“Yes,” Cinderella said, panicked. “I’m sorry!” She kissed him quickly, squeezing his hands, then darted away. “I’ll call you!” And then she was off, dashing around the other partygoers who looked on in surprise and bewilderment as Cinderella hurried through the crowd. She ignored them as she entered the ballroom and ran through it in her haste to get to the front door and down the long driveway to her waiting limousine.
Rushing and nervous, she was dimly aware of the left slipper falling off her foot as she ran down the long driveway to the waiting limo. There was no time to stop to retrieve it – every second counted. She saw her driver, standing tall and straight. He quickly opened the door for her as she dived in the back. Before she knew it the door was shut firmly and he was behind the wheel, piloting them back to the house.
Cinderella checked her watch, her pulse racing. Eight more minutes…
Three minutes later, the Whateley home was in sight. Elizabeth’s car was in the driveway. How was she going to get in without being noticed or seen?
Her vision seemed to go blurry. She felt her stomach flip, as if it was being turned inside out in her abdomen and for a moment she didn’t know where she was.
Then she realized it was her basement room.
Cinderella blinked and looked down at herself. The black dress, the fishnet stockings, the lacy bra, the black glass slipper, they were gone. She was wearing her usual threadbare clothes – baggy jeans, and a stained t-shirt. She glanced at herself in the mirror – the makeup was gone, revealing her plain old self. Her blonde hair was frizzled, dirty and limp.
Cinderella sighed. She was back in the nick of time.
She could hardly contain her enthusiasm. She had to see Old Whateley. She waited until well after her stepsisters arrived home, complaining to their mother about the dark-haired Goth chick that had showed up to the ball and spoiled it for them. “William didn’t even look at us!” Faye exclaimed. “He spent all his time slobbering over that whore!”
Cinderella allowed herself a brief smile as she sat in her dark basement room.
At three a.m., Cinderella stole quietly upstairs to Old Whateley’s attic room and let herself in. She paused, letting her eyes grow accustomed to the dark. There was a presence here, something she hadn’t felt before. And then she saw it.
The Necronomicon lay open on the floor, its pages turned to a horrible looking passage. The etched design matched the same image that had been drawn on Old Whateley’s floor years ago. There was the scent of animal fat and blood in the air along with something else. Something dead.
Whatever it was, it was still in the attic room. Cinderella couldn’t see it, but she sensed it watching her, waiting for her to make a move.
There was no sign of Grandfather Whateley anywhere.
And then…very faintly…she heard a noise. Whispering.
“I’m going to let you stay here,” she said softly to the thing whispering in the darkness. “My grandfather called you up for a reason. He knew what was best for me, for my family. I have to trust that. He gave me a wonderful time tonight. I am going to honor his wishes.”
She returned to her basement room and tried to get some sleep. Amazingly, she did.
The next morning she did her best to ignore her stepsisters, who were still smarting over their perceived treatment from William Bishop and the unknown Goth chick that had dared to steal their spotlight. Elizabeth made a crack at her expense: “At least Cinderella has no idea who you’re talking about because the Bishop’s did not see her fit to attend their party.” That seemed to make the sisters happy, and Cinderella gave them this petty victory. She went about her chores – dusting, sweeping out the rugs, clearing the breakfast table and doing the dishes – with her usual perfunctory attitude. By noon, the stepsisters were off the Whateley grounds, embroiled in some other drama, and Cinderella finally had a moment to collect her thoughts.
The following day she overheard a rumor from Faye, who was talking to her sister outside. It seemed that William was obsessed with the Goth girl from his party and was looking for her. “I don’t know why he’s so taken with her,” Faye remarked. “Bitch left him right before midnight and never came back. She even left one of her shoes behind!”
“Really?” Zelma said.
“Yes, really,” Faye said. “William seems convinced she lives around here. You aren’t going to believe what he’s doing.”
“What?” From the sound of it, her stepsisters were smoking cigarettes in the back garden while their mother was shopping in town, most likely spending more of her father’s money.
“That shoe she left behind? William is going around to all the single girls in town and trying to see if it fits.”
There was silence from Zelma on this. Cinderella listened, keenly attuned to what her stepsisters were most likely thinking about. This was confirmed a moment later. “What is he going to do when he finds her?”
“You saw how he was with her,” Faye said. “He was completely smitten. Gloria Henderson said he fell in love with her and she’s all he’s been talking about since. If you ask me, he wants to find her. I wouldn’t be surprised if he asked her to marry him.”
The sisters laughed at this but Cinderella felt a flush of excitement in her. She felt her heart swell. The connection she’d felt with William was more than just genuine – it was solid, as if they were connecting on a deeper level. After hearing this, she was determined to meet up with William when he came around. After all, it was her foot that fit inside the slipper.
She tried not to let her excitement show as the day wore on. That afternoon, Elizabeth arrived home with groceries and the stepsisters told their mother what they’d heard. Elizabeth was completely supportive of her daughters and had heard the same story in town. “He’ll be in this part of Dunwich tonight,” she told them. “We need to make sure one of you can fit into that slipper.”
“I can fit into it!” Faye exclaimed.
“No, me!” Zelma shot back.
The competitive tension between the sisters was obvious. Cinderella was clearing the dinner table as this was happening and it was at that moment when the sound of a car rolled up to the driveway. They all looked up and out the window – a large, white limo was parked just beside Elizabeth’s vehicle and a portly chauffeur was opening the rear door for the passenger. Cinderella felt her heart stop as William stepped out of the vehicle.
While William was no longer dressed in his black formal attire, he still struck a glorious pose. His eyes watched the house as Faye and Zelma raced out of the house, their mother trailing after them. Cinderella started toward the door after them and Elizabeth whirled around, hand held out to stop her. “No! You stay here! This is only for girls who were at the Bishop’s ball the other night!”
Cinderella wanted to say, “But I was at the ball,” but hesitated. To blurt this out now would only invite sudden anger and possible violence from Elizabeth. Instead, she hung back and approached the screen door as Elizabeth trotted after her daughters, who had already met William at the end of the driveway.
“You were at my party the other night?” William asked Zelma, his features curious.
“Oh yes!” Zelma exclaimed. “Yes, I was.”
William gave her a quick once over and from this distance, Cinderella thought there was slight disapproval on his features. “I don’t think you’re the girl who was wearing this slipper.” Cinderella saw that he was holding the slipper in his right hand protectively, keeping it close to his body. “The girl who was wearing it was smaller and more – ”
Suddenly, Elizabeth was there, once again taking command of the situation. “Why don’t you let her try the slipper on, William?”
William regarded Elizabeth for a moment, shrugged, then held the slipper out. “Okay,” he said.
As William crouched down to help Zelma put the slipper on, Cinderella silently stepped outside. She closed the screen door softly, then began heading down the driveway, watching the proceeding with bated brea
th.
Zelma was having a hard time fitting into the slipper. She pushed her right foot into the slipper but it wouldn’t fit – her pinkie toe and the toe next to it wouldn’t squeeze into it. Zelma grunted in frustration as she tried to wedge her foot in another way.
“I’m sorry,” William said. He took the slipper away and then turned to Faye. He glanced up at her, apprehension on his features. “You’re about the same size as her,” he said. “I don’t think it’s going to – ”
“Let her try it,” Elizabeth said. “It’ll fit. Trust me.”
Faye tried working her foot in a more careful way and met the same resistance.
William frowned. “I don’t know…” he began.
And then Cinderella found herself in the throng. “Let me try it on,” she said.
Elizabeth, Zelma, and Faye turned to her, looks of shock and bewilderment on their features. Elizabeth also looked angry and annoyed. “What are you doing here? I told you to stay in the house. This is only for girls who were at the ball!”
Cinderella ignored Elizabeth and stepped up to William. “Here,” she said. She held her left foot out to him. “Try it on.”
There was a glimmer of recognition on William’s face. He bent down and took Cinderella’s foot in his hands. Her foot slid inside the slipper deftly; it was a perfect fit.
There were gasped shocks from the stepsisters and Elizabeth. Cinderella’s heart swelled and she felt a surge of power rush through her. She looked at William and for a moment their eyes.
“It was you,” he whispered.
Cinderella wanted to rush into his arms but she maintained her composure. “Yes, it was me,” she said. Then she turned to Elizabeth and her stepsisters and regarded them with a sense of triumph. “Elizabeth, you said this was for girls who went to the ball that night. Well…I was at the ball! I was the girl William fell for – and I fell for him, too. I lost my slipper in my haste to return home before midnight, as Old Whateley bade me to.”
At the mention of the old man, Elizabeth gave a startled gasp. “Old Whateley! That old…”
“He’s gone beyond time and space now,” Cinderella said, this knowledge coming to her as if it was being fed to her from another dimension. “And the spell he used to reach it is still growing. It’s going to finish what was started in 1928, when my great-grandfather first conjured it. And it’s going to tear the three of you inside out and cast you into the veil!” A thought bubbled to the surface of her mind unbidden - N’gai, Yog-Sothoth! Ia! Ia! Gyaggin – but she did not utter it aloud.
Elizabeth and the sisters cringed in fear. Strangely, William and his chauffeur didn’t seem bothered by this.
Cinderella turned to William and smiled. “You’ve found me,” she said. “And now that you’ve found me, you shall have me!”
William smiled and embraced her. Cinderella hugged him back, not caring that Elizabeth and her stepsisters were speechless by this spectacle. And with that, she followed William into the limo. The vehicle sped away, leaving a dismayed Elizabeth and her daughters, reeling from the sudden turn of events.
V
Like all fairy tales, this one has a happy ending.
Of course, that depends on your definition of the term “happy”.
Naturally, Cinderella was the girl William Bishop was searching for. After this bit of verification, Cinderella rode with him to the Bishop estate, where they rekindled their budding romance and, very shortly after, consummated their relationship. This pleased the elder gods.
Of course, you probably want to know what became of Elizabeth Whateley and her daughters. Very well. But I must warn you…their ending was most definitely not happy.
When the Bishop’s vehicle retreated in the dusty gloom, Elizabeth and her daughters went inside the Whateley home. They still could not get over this sudden and huge disappointment. Elizabeth blamed her daughters of course, and they denied knowing the dark, mysterious Goth girl at the party was Cinderella. Elizabeth was so angry she broke all the dishes in the kitchen and began smashing the furniture – most of it valuable antiques. She was so worked up, and Zelma and Faye were so fearful of their mother, that neither noticed the growing presence that was now being felt throughout Miskatonic Valley.
It started up in the attic the night before, when Old Whateley completed his part of a spell that had been started by his infamous relative over eighty years before. That spell sucked him through a portal into another dimension. It had granted Cinderella the power she needed to ensnare William, and it had also let something else in.
That something had been growing in size and power ever since. It had hid among the angles of our dimension, always just out of sight. It grew until it occupied the entire top floor of the home.
While Cinderella and William consummated their long, happy life together, the majority of residents of this little section of Miskatonic Valley stayed in their homes. They felt a certain malevolence in the air. The old timers, perhaps remembering the stories their parents and grandparents told them when they were children, warned their own children and grandchildren not to go outside. They forked the sign against the evil eye and hung up signs and trinkets around their doors and windows.
And the arguing and fighting at the Whatley house suddenly ceased.
That night there was a terrible explosion from the Whateley home. Dozens of residents reported feeling – and even seeing – a large, black thing with great wings and appendages that resembled tentacles flying through the air toward the moon. By the time the volunteer fire department arrived, the fire had largely burned out at the house. Nevertheless, the state fire inspector and the state police were on hand. The local police kept residents away and when morning came they got a better idea of what had happened.
No trace of Elizabeth or her stepdaughters were found in the fire. The house and everything in it was in ruins except for one thing, found in the attic…the perfectly preserved copy of a very old book. A call was made to Miskatonic University who sent their head librarian. Upon viewing the book, the librarian took possession of it and whisked it back to the University, presumably to join its Latin-translated version under lock and key in the library’s Forbidden Book section.
Cinderella and William watched all this from William’s second floor bedroom window. He stood behind her, his arms around Cinderella’s waist. She pressed her backside up against him as they watched the activity in the valley far below. She smiled, feeling content.
A lot of people were going to think that with Old Whateley finally dead that the Whateley line was gone for good. Of course they had not seen Cinderella since shortly after her father died, believing the rumors Elizabeth had spread that the girl had run off. They had no idea that Cinderella Whateley had remained in town after all.
That’s okay. Cinderella smiled with satisfaction. That is just what I want them to think.
She turned to William, who smiled down at her. He embraced her, kissed her neck. She kissed him back. They stood at the window, perfectly content with each other.
Within the next day, she would feel her baby begin to kick.
End
Author Biographies
Christine Morgan's previous works have appeared in several anthologies and magazines. as well as about a dozen novels in print, some self-published and the rest via various small presses; the next, His Blood, is due out from Belfire any time now. Recently she's had stories accepted for Steampunk Cthulhu, Atomic Age Cthulhu. Dark Rites of Cthulhu, World War Cthulhu, In The Court of the Yellow King, The Conqueror Womb, and Cthulhurotica II.
Jayaprakash Satyamurthy is a writer, musician and indentured servant to a vast feline horde. He has previously been published by the Lovecraft eZine, Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, Pratilipi, The Affair and Dynatox Ministeries. A chapbook of his short stories entitled 'Weird Tales of a Bangalorean' may or may not be published by Dunhams Manor Press by the time you read this.
Michael Wentela is the author of Fallen Is Babylon, a post-apocalyptic
science fiction horror novel. His writing ranges from novels to short stories in science fiction, horror, crime fiction, mystery, thriller, or whatever idea sparks his creativity. He is currently a technical product support specialist for an international company. In previous adventures, he has been an award-winning journalist, a communication specialist, and an economic development professional. Among his other life lessons he lists the time he spent clearing brush from a mosquito-infested swamp, helping to build wooden steps to a bluff-top overlook and digging graves in a cemetery. Born and raised in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, Michael and his wife, Stephanie, now live in a century-old house in southwest Wisconsin with a purebred Irish setter and a cat. They have two adult children. More information about Michael and his writing can be found at www.michaelwentela.com.
E. Catherine Tobler is a Sturgeon Award finalist and the senior editor at Shimmer Magazine. Among others, her fiction has appeared in Clarkesworld, Lady Churchill's Rosebud Wristlet, and Beneath Ceaseless Skies. Her first novel is now available. Follow her on Twitter @ECthetwit or her website, http://www.ecatherine.com.
John Claude Smith originally wanted to be a horror writer; now he's not sure what it is he writes, he just knows it is dark, and he's the one holding a flashlight, shining light on those places most people want to avoid, scribbling notes. He's had over 60 short stories and 15 poems published, as well as a debut collection of 'not your average horror,' The Dark Is Light Enough For Me. His second collection, Autumn in the Abyss, was published by Omnium Gatherum in March of 2014, and is garnering much positive response and reviews. He is presently writing his third novel, while shopping around the other two and putting together a follow-up collection. Busy is good. He splits his time between the East Bay of northern California, across from San Francisco, and Rome, Italy, where his heart resides always.
Michael Griffin’s short fiction has appeared in the anthologies The Grimscribe's Puppets and Mighty in Sorrow, and such periodicals as Apex Magazine, Black Static, Lovecraft eZine. His novella 'Far From Streets' is forthcoming from Dunhams Manor Press, and his story 'Firedancing' will appear in the Laird Barron tribute, Children of Old Leech. Michael blogs about books and writing at griffinwords.com, and his Twitter feed is @griffinwords. He's also an electronic ambient musician and founder of Hypnos Recordings, an ambient music record label he operates with his wife in Portland, Oregon.
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