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Saying Goodbye to Cinderella
10/30/2020Saying Goodbye to Cinderella
Say goodbye to Cinderella
Hello to Snow White
Calm your bones
still your tone
Match the mood
of stars at night
Hats alone do not make witches
Pumpkins light for Jack
Say goodbye to Cinderella
Winter's coming back
Mistaken Identity
Mistaken Identity
It was not even me. He married the girl in the mask, the one whose conversation intrigued him almost as much as her appearance. I danced on the first night and I danced on the last night, but that fateful night the mask was worn by another. Pity her, pity me, you decide, but know this; I was apparently unrecognizable until the shoe fit. Do you call that love?
It was not even me. He married the girl in the mask, the one whose conversation intrigued him almost as much as her appearance. I danced on the first night and I danced on the last night, but that fateful night the mask was worn by another. Pity her, pity me, you decide, but know this; I was apparently unrecognizable until the shoe fit. Do you call that love?
From Head to Toe
From Head to Toe
We tried to fool him, all of us. Lambs blood in shoes and stockings, a trip of a cane here, the batting of eyelashes there. We pretended to be injured and bitter like the shrews he believed us to be. All for naught.
We tried to fool him, all of us. Lambs blood in shoes and stockings, a trip of a cane here, the batting of eyelashes there. We pretended to be injured and bitter like the shrews he believed us to be. All for naught.
Locked in the attic, she should have been safe. His anger and frustration spread tendrils of dark magic to the attic window and opened it just that little crack, just enough to hear her grateful victory song. She was so happy to be free of his cat and mouse game at last; The smell of pitch still burned in her nose from the castle steps on the night of the last ball.
Locked in the attic, she should have been safe. His anger and frustration spread tendrils of dark magic to the attic window and opened it just that little crack, just enough to hear her grateful victory song. She was so happy to be free of his cat and mouse game at last; The smell of pitch still burned in her nose from the castle steps on the night of the last ball.
Too soon, beautiful bird. You sung too soon. We will try to rescue you from your cage of glass and gold because we love you. We love you from head to toe.
Too soon, beautiful bird. You sung too soon. We will try to rescue you from your cage of glass and gold because we love you. We love you from head to toe.
Get Ready for an Evening of Intrigue!
Get Ready for an Evening of Intrigue!
Discover how it all began with the story behind the story as you wine and dine at the palace for a reenactment of the King's Ball. Behind the place gates is a nobleman's house perfectly preserved to replicate the scene of Cinderella / Ashyputtle and her mistreatment by parental figures and new siblings. Engage in a great debate about the role of those transformatory figures and the presence or absence of magic in a young woman's life.
See the hazel tree, pigeons, doves, pumpkins, mice, lentils, silver, gold, and glass that may or may not have played a part in Cinderella's tale. Question the encounter with the prince as you relive and reflect on the chase and conquest from a range of gender perspectives. On the Eastern Promenade you get to decide which of your party's entourage will get to be the royal highness's dancing partner! Or, attend a more modern rendition on the Western Promenade as various young gentlemen try to win your affections!
Finally, settle in for a dinner fit for the royals of old while you are pulled away in pairs to hunt through the castle and the nobleman's manor for clues to the greatest mystery of all. Was Cinderella a long con, a scam over an extended period of time? Who was in on it? Who switched sides or was a double agent? Find out, in this epic espionage reimagining of Cinderella!
In this retelling, Cinderella knows what her end goal is and she endures everything to achieve a quest set by her mother - besides just the promise to be good and kind. To carry out her mother's wishes, she first has to fool the stepfamily and get into the good graces of the prince. The stepsisters switch alliances part way through and they fool the stepmother into thinking they mutilated their feet with berry juice. However, the oldest stepsister turns out to be a double agent. She goes rogue and marries the prince to save Cinderella from hanging for treason.
In this retelling, Cinderella knows what her end goal is and she endures everything to achieve a quest set by her mother - besides just the promise to be good and kind. To carry out her mother's wishes, she first has to fool the stepfamily and get into the good graces of the prince. The stepsisters switch alliances part way through and they fool the stepmother into thinking they mutilated their feet with berry juice. However, the oldest stepsister turns out to be a double agent. She goes rogue and marries the prince to save Cinderella from hanging for treason.
Another Perspective
Another Perspective
Now I know why Cinderella's stepmother locked her in her room. She would not shut up about her wonderful parents and the woman just could not take it anymore.
Now I know why Cinderella's stepmother locked her in her room. She would not shut up about her wonderful parents and the woman just could not take it anymore.
Putting C out on the street would be cruel. This was just a time out for stepmommy to recoup. To calm down, take deep breaths, count to ten, have a glass of wine, paint her nails, and mourn the loss of her brief marriage to her belated husband. She would let her out eventually. The girl didn't even know the door was locked yet. Minutes may pass before she noticed, wrapped up as she was in her animals. Who knows, in that time I might have regained composure, quashed her resentment and reaffirmed her compassion toward the human race. Anything was possible if you believed, right?
Putting C out on the street would be cruel. This was just a time out for stepmommy to recoup. To calm down, take deep breaths, count to ten, have a glass of wine, paint her nails, and mourn the loss of her brief marriage to her belated husband. She would let her out eventually. The girl didn't even know the door was locked yet. Minutes may pass before she noticed, wrapped up as she was in her animals. Who knows, in that time I might have regained composure, quashed her resentment and reaffirmed her compassion toward the human race. Anything was possible if you believed, right?
Perhaps a magical nudge was necessary. No one could ever know and I would have to take all the blame. Psshh... the girls won't care. They are used to my games by now. Now, where is that wand?
Perhaps a magical nudge was necessary. No one could ever know and I would have to take all the blame. Psshh... the girls won't care. They are used to my games by now. Now, where is that wand?
Ten seconds between chimes
Ten seconds between chimes
As the clock decides the hour
So the maker cedes her power
Moments large in midnight cadence
Ruin poor maids' reputation
Dance with her and get no name
Follow her and soon be shamed
Search for her and find her mother
Sisters hovering, absent brother
Spells and wishes rush delivered
Leave the clock chimes ten beats withered
Photo taken by Lauren Goldman at the Mystic Seaport Museum in Mystic, CT. To learn more, go to https://www.mysticseaport.org/
Cinderella Blue
Cinderella Blue
My dress is blue tonight because the pale ice shell masks the fire within. I am the phoenix of the family and from the ashes of our situation, I will rise. The shoes were made of gold, the fairy godmother said, for glass would shatter quicker. First, gold is grown, and then it's spun, the metal melting thicker guns than those that will be used to hunt me when I flee.
Saving Butterflies from the Wind
Saving Butterflies from the Wind
Originally written 6/10/19
Wings flutter, but I don't touch
Let them drift as they may
Nature takes its course and we
are not meant to intervene
A net, a cage, a jar, a fence
None of these save the butterflies
from the wind
We can only watch
Should one crash into us, we will not
make it into an art exhibit
Capturing beautiful creatures
is as futile
as saving butterflies from the wind
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