Clara's Story

The Ducati Dreamer said that this piece was proof that I have no talent – but what the heck, it was written with little thought and I enjoyed writing it!

Clara’s Story

Once upon a time, in a land not far from ours, there lived a girl called Clara. Now Clara was not the typical heroine of a fairy story – she was rather plain looking and had lank, limp hair. Clara was plump, most people were rude enough to call her ‘fat’. She also had lots of zits – especially in her oily T-zone area.

Now Clara had the most beautiful sister – Cinderella. Not only was Cinderella fair of face with cascading golden curls, she was also sweet of nature and had a kind heart.

Clara’s heart would fill with jealousy as she saw sweet Cinderella, looking ethereally beautiful in her plain clothes, go about cleaning the floors and the toilet bowls with a sweet song on her smiling lips and a dreamy look in her eyes. For Cinderella always dreamt of her Prince Charming.

At times Clara could not stand it. She would kick Cinderella meanly while she was moping and make her fall down and graze her chin. She would hurry away before Cinderella got up, but would grin nastily at her yelp of pain. Fortunately for Clara, Cinderella was not her real sister but her step-sister, so her behaviour was not only condoned, but encouraged. Her mother and other sister treated Cinderella like a servant – pushing her around, screaming at her, not giving her enough to eat. And Clara joined in – she would abuse Cinderella and pull her hair and box her till her teeth were bloody. But surprisingly, Clara noticed that the more she abused Cinderella, the prettier and more fragile she seemed to become. Whereas, her own face in the mirror began to harden, her mouth looked mean, and her eyes looked smaller, the wrinkles seemed more deeply etched than yesterday.

One day there was a GRANDE ANNOUNCEMENT in the town hall. The Prince was throwing a ball – and all young ladies of the kingdom – whether skinny or fat were invited. Of course this caused a lot of excitement in the young girls’ household – sashes were bought and lace sewed on to silk dresses. Clara was terribly nervous – she had never been to a ‘ball’ before. She looked enviously at Cinderella’s thin waist and ordered her to pull her corset tighter. She felt quite out of breath, and when she looked at herself in the mirror she didn’t quite recognize herself – who was this creature all dolled and made up? It didn’t look like her. It didn’t feel like her. She longed to slip out of the high-heels into her comfy loafers but her sister and her mother were already pushing her out of the door.

At the ball Clara couldn’t stop fidgeting. She half upset her rum punch out of nervousness and constantly stared at her red toes. Suddenly she saw a pair of black shoes stop in front of her. ‘Hello’ someone said. She looked up to see the face of a bored young gent offering her his hand for a dance – it was obvious that he had only asked her because all the other ladies had been taken.

Clara blushed and put her hand in his. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, she had always refused invitations to dance before. Clara stepped on to the dance floor, and as she did, she felt her frustration and antagonism rise like a ball inside her. But all of a sudden she was dancing. Miracle of miracles – she was dancing! She felt light-footed as the boy swung her around. She felt her corset snap and the tightly wound ball inside her began to dissipate. She smiled, and as she did, she felt the hardness leave her face. She heard the clock strike twelve, and from the corner of her eye saw the beautiful Cinderella scurry up the staircase with the Prince behind her – and she was twirling again and noticed that all the other dancers were standing to the sides of the room looking at her and her partner, smiling appreciatively.

A week later, as Clara was discussing the plans for opening her dance school with the loan officer, she heard a squeal of delight from the next room. She went in and saw two of the Prince’s men, one kneeling down as he had just fitted a glass slipper on Cinderella’s foot. And as Cinderella sat there, pointing her glass-slippered foot daintily, Clara found herself squeezing her step-sister’s shoulders and kissing her cheek. And to her surprise, there was a gladdening in her heart.

~ The End ~