Ellen spent most of her morning in abject surrender, carrying out her instructions without hesitation. Already used to dealing with grease and all manners of disgusting things, her callous hands made the kitchen shine once again, and then she moved on to the garden. Of all the chores she could have been assigned, this was her least favorite. The wet dirt was the breeding ground for many a creepy crawling creature, some of which enjoyed climbing her arms and legs far too much. One day, a centipede had found its way into her hair, nesting there and refusing to leave. It was one of the most horrific memories of hers.

When the garden was taken care of, Ellen was allowed a ten-minute break to grab something to eat. While Mistress Tatiana had no qualms in saying the food was often wasted on her, a starving servant would be of no use in the long run. Her meal comprised a small bowl of old chicken broth and some dried breadcrumbs. Accompanying her during that moment of respite was the one she had dubbed “Skinny”.

“Skinny” was a stray black cat with a single patch of white on his left front paw that roamed the neighborhood every single day. The first time she saw him, he was almost all skin and bones hence the not-so-flattering nickname. She thought he had approached her only to die at her feet, but the young animal was far more resilient than people gave it credit for. Surviving was not just an option but an utmost necessity, and so he did, relying not only on his natural hunting instincts but also on the kindness of strangers for whom saving his poor soul was almost equivalent to saving themselves. Ellen let him lick the bottom of the bowl and then smiled as he wandered off to someplace unknown to spend the rest of the day.

Returning home, she was hounded by Prudence and Drusilla right at the doorstep reminding her of her unattended duties. With the Mistress of the house gone for the afternoon and no more room left to argue, Ellen did the most diplomatic thing possible and locked the two sisters and their dresses in the same bedroom, after which she helped them dress and undress at whim, enjoying the touch of the colorful fabrics and extravagant patterns she could never wear. The two sisters spent the rest of the day insulting one another, something they excelled at far more than anything else. Neither was pleased with the trials though they ended up agreeing on something by the end: they needed to buy something new as soon as possible or the prince would never look at them.

The sun was already going down when Ellen could finally breathe again. She descended into the basement, sat under the stairs, and cried. If anyone asked her the reason for such, she could not say. Tears were becoming more frequent and more painful as well. Each one that rolled down her cheeks was like a droplet of acid burning her skin. The world was on fire and she was at the center of the conflagration. In silence, she receded into the world of brainwashing mantras again until her eyes dried up.

The night fell, and her thoughts followed. Dinner was the same as lunch, but with fewer crumbs and no feline company to put a smile on her lips. After helping their owners disrobe one last time, she lay on the hardened bed, closed her eyes, and fell asleep, wondering if the next day would be as forgetful as all the rest.

It wasn’t long before she found herself floating in a dream of satin and organza, a world where orchestral music swept her off her feet and curious eyes couldn’t get enough of her sensual movements. She was at the Royal Ball, taking on the dance floor with a dress containing all the colors known to man and hundreds more yet to discover, alone yet proud, Mistress of her own destiny. Time froze as she whirled and twirled, and the beams of light reflected from the crystal chandeliers above her head enveloped her in a radiant aura no angel or any beautiful creature of myth could hope to match. She was free.

“Do you like it here?” A voice came to her like a gentle breeze on a warm Spring day, filling her ears with a blissful buzz.

“I like it a lot,” Ellen replied, continuing to dance on her own while everyone else stared.

“That’s good. You’re meant to like it. There is still hope for you, my dear.”

“What do you mean? And who are you?”

“A friend.”

“Real or imaginary?”

“In here, a bit of both. I’ve been trying to reach you for a while now.”

“Reach me?”

“Make myself heard, and have you pay attention to the signs. The world you believe in has never been true. You know it. You feel it. You just don’t want to look away long enough to see the truth. Or you didn’t, at least. The change has already started. That is why you’re here tonight.”

“Here where? Isn’t this all just a figment of my imagination?”

“No. It’s more than that, just like you’re more than what others try to make of you. This realm we’re in right now is a projection, an aspiration of a future to be. It’s your innermost wish, given a form to express itself. You could almost say it’s the real you.”

“But I know the real me.” Ellen’s knees trembled. “I’m a slave. Mistress Tatiana owns all of me, forever obedient I shall be.”

“That is not you, those are the words you’ve been indoctrinated with. When you repeat them, it’s not your voice, it’s not your soul. You need to shatter that illusion for all of this to be yours.”

“You speak of nonsense that could get me in real trouble. I’m not allowed to question my owner. Doing so is a crime.”

“Why is it a crime? Do you know?”

“Her will is my will. Her will is law. Hers and her daughters. I exist to serve them. That is the only role fit for me.”

“It is the role you’re playing, but it fits you even less than Drusilla’s dresses. There’s no room for your ‘Mistress’ and her kin here. Do you see them anywhere?”

Ellen stopped dancing, drawing longing sighs from the oniric crowd. There were no familiar faces among them, no shred of her common, mortal existence. Everything surrounding her was new and vibrant, a promise of a better tomorrow.

“No. Where are they?”

“Who cares? They’re nothing to you. They never were. If you don’t think of them and surrender to their whims, they don’t exist. No one else matters except you, Ellen. The sooner you accept this, the better you’ll feel.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I know everything about the ones under my care. I was like you once. In a way, I still am.”

“More gibberish that makes no sense. If you’re real, show yourself. I don’t wish to talk to a phantom anymore.”

“Seeing me is only up to you. Is that what you really want? Are you open to it?”

“Yes. Come forth, mysterious voice. Show me who or what you are.”

“Very well.”

The ballroom was lit up by a blinding flash of light raining down from the stained glass ceiling. It touched the beautiful marble halls and expanded into a concentric circle from which the most dazzling of sights emerged. It was a woman that appeared to be no older than thirty, yet whose aqua eyes had seen eons worth of existence not just in her world but countless others running in parallel. Standing at six feet five, her dark booted feet not touching the ground, she was a statuesque Amazon draped in tight, metallic blue rubber, a clean-cut plus size dress that showed all her curves without a single hint of cleavage. She too had blonde hair, though hers was darker, stopping at mid-shoulder. Her face was perfectly symmetrical, an effigy of stillness and otherworldly power. Golden bracelets adorned her wrists, three circles intertwined on each. In her right hand, she held a crown-topped riding crop that sparkled almost as much as she did.

“Thank you, Ellen.” The strange woman said, extending her free hand to touch the younger woman’s right cheek. “It’s good to be seen. Better late than never.”

“Are you some kind of Goddess?” Ellen asked while admiring her resplendent figure and impossible attire to go with it. “Your clothes... they’re so strange.”

“Yes, I suppose they are. Goddess? Oh no, there’s only one of those, and she’s neither for mortals nor for those like myself to lay eyes upon.”

“What are you then?”

“I already told you: a friend. However, if you need more than that, I guess you can call me your Fairy Godmother.”

Ellen chuckled as if she had heard the most preposterous thing ever. “Come on, everybody knows there’s no such a thing! Children’s tales aren’t real.”

“It’s amazing what ‘everybody knows’ one day only to be disproven in the next. It’s just a title, dear. Worry not about it. We have more important things to discuss.”

“Like what?”

“Like what you’re planning to do with those yearnings of yours. Do you want to be in this place for real or not?”

“Even if I did, someone like me has no place in the court.” Ellen lowered her gaze to the ground and saw the ragged, penurious, and subservient self agreeing with her. “Born a slave, always a slave. Wishing for anything else is folly.”

“If that were true, we wouldn’t be standing here. I’ve been waiting for the opportunity to talk to you face to face ever since your parents died. I knew it would come when the moment was right. This is it. This is how it begins.”

A veil of sadness covered Ellen’s eyes, and even the guests at the ball embraced the solemn silence. “What do you know about my parents?”

“That they both loved you dearly and were taken away from you before their time because generosity was betrayed by ill intent. Your ‘Mistress’ is a murderer. Her heart is as wicked as her hands and the brews in her kettle, and the only reason you think otherwise is because you’ve been programmed to do so.”

“That’s absurd!”

“That’s exactly what she wants you to think. Her rituals bind you to her truth, make you dull and complaint. No one is actually born a slave, but everyone can be broken into thinking that’s true. Tatiana has reshaped your world in her image inside your mind, though her control is far from perfect. There are fissures in the illusion that grow the more you think about them. It was them that brought you here. Your brain is tired of living in the shadows for so long.”

“The voice has a face now, yet everything she says continues to not make any sense. Why should I believe a complete stranger over the one that has always taken care of me?”

“Taken care of you? Is what you call forcing you to live in the basement, exhausting your body with menial tasks, and stripping away your dignity at every opportunity? You’re not being taken care of. You’re being used. Your body has been reduced to a tool, your independence put in shackles. You’re a prisoner in your own house and, worse, a prisoner in your subconscious, conditioned for her amusement and nothing else. You’re what I was hundreds of years ago, Ellen. All of you are.”

“Explain yourself, starting with your real name.”

“I don’t have one. Not any more. I gave it up when I agreed to take on this mantle to track down and rescue all the souls that don’t believe in themselves. However, I was once called... Cinderella.”

“Cinderella? Why does that name sound so familiar?”

“Perhaps because the memory of what truly matters is universal. The basic stories of the world are known to everyone and go beyond life and death. History always repeats itself. Even when born anew in different bodies, it’s all the same. We are the same.”

“I don’t understand. We’re nothing alike. How can we be the same?”

“We simply are. I’ve been where you are and, perhaps, one day, you’ll be where I am, but there’s only one way to get there and that is to accept what you’re seeing. You make the rules of your existence. Slave is what you’ve been called, but you are simply Ellen and you are free to live, love, and sin on your own terms.”

“If only it were that easy...”

“It is. You’ve already taken the first step. You just need to be ready for the ones to come. It was nice talking to you, Ellen, but this is where we must part for now.” The Fairy Godmother waved the jeweled crop and drew a tear in the fabric of the fantasy world. “Find me for real when you decide to follow your heart.”

“Wait! I have more questions.”

“And I have no more answers besides the ones you have within. Your strength, your story. Write it! Not for me, not for anyone else, but for yourself!”

Ellen blinked as the light exploded into nothingness, her counterpart phasing away. The ballroom now stood empty, a single spot free from a wave of encroaching darkness. There was nothing there for her anymore. All that was left was to...

“... wake up!” Mistress Tatiana screamed from the top of her lungs, towering over her like a mad Queen in a relentless game of chess. She wore an orange and red robe that reminded her of the flames of Hell. “Slacking off, you wretched little girl? Have you no ounce of shame?”

“Morning already?” Ellen thought. The dream was over even before it started, the harsh reality now kicking her in the naked feet.

“Mistress? What is going on?” She slurred.

“That’s what I would like to know!” Tatiana growled. “You were supposed to be up an hour ago to get breakfast ready and I find you sleeping on the job again? That’s two days in a row! You are testing my patience and my goodwill, Ellen, none of which wish to be tested by a miserable lowlife such as you!”

“I... I’m sorry, Mistress, I don’t know what came over me...” 

“Excuses and even more excuses! Keep them to yourself because I don’t want them! Do your job properly or go die in the streets for all I care. I will not have my reputation tarnished by your inability to behave!”

“Please, don’t send me away, Mistress! Anything but that! I’ll work harder, I promise.”

“Promises are worth nothing without the actions to back them up, and you’re so daft you don’t even know how to beg. If you really meant it, you’d be licking my feet right now!”

Ellen rolled over her stomach and crawled to bury her tongue between her sweaty toes, slurping and savoring the bitter aftertaste. She was only allowed one minute of worship before Mistress soles crushed her head against the hard floor.

“Better, but still not good enough. Three cups of tea for you today and triple the mantras, too. You’re getting awfully distracted from your purpose. Fail me again and you’ll not get another chance to make amends. Understood?”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.”

“You may begin.” Tatiana handed her the mind-numbing kettle. Her long-lasting plans wouldn’t go to waste, the girl would never be free again. Ellen drank the first cup and nodded mindlessly, the memories of her inexplicable dream slowly fading away.