Ah….one of my stories I actually like! I wasn't sure what Cinderella's sister's names were though…can anyone out there tell me?

Cinderella Lied

Don't listen to a thing Cinderella says; she's a compulsive liar, as well as a kleptomaniac. But that's beside the point. My name is Griselda. My sister, Beatrice and I received quite the surprise when our mother came home one night to tell us she was getting re-married. Quite a fiasco, I must say, as our dear father died only one month beforehand. My sister and I cried and begged out mother not to remarry, but she went against our wishes, and the ceremony took place on a hot day on June.

We could tell right away Cinderella (for that is truly her given name. It's not our fault her mother was a bit weird), was going to be a problem. Just because she had more money than us made her think she was better. She turned up her nose at every chance she got. She was Daddy's Little Angel though, so we couldn't do anything about it.

After the wedding my mother, Beatrice, and I moved into a large castle with Cinderella and her father. My poor mother was sorely taken advantage of, for Cinderella's father was often gone for months on end in pursuit of more money and business while my mother, Beatrice, and I did all the housework, whilst attending to Cinderella's every beck and call, fearing harsh consequences if we did not. Moreover, Cinderella was the most demanding teenage girl I have ever met. If she broke a nail, one of us would have to hither to her command and file it down perfectly for her. She even went as far as making us clean out her chamber pot.

Then one day a notice arrived at our house, stating that a Grand Ball would be held in honour of the king's son. Beatrice and I were very excited, for the king's son was quite a handsome lad and he would be deciding his wife that night.

After we had finished with Cinderella's errands, we spent long hours into the night and early morning, sewing dresses for ourselves. We tried to make them as beautiful as possible, though we had only course working cloth.

The day of the ball dawned bright and sunny. Beatrice and I rushed to complete our chores. Alas, just as we were finishing, Cinderella swept into the room beclothed in a gorgeous gown of silk. The pink colour complimented her golden hair and pale complexion, rendering Beatrice and I awestruck. Suddenly, we felt dowdy, with our mousy brown hair and unflattering, rough dresses.

"Do my hair!" Cinderella demanded.

After an hour of her shrieking that we were doing it wrong and should be burned alive, she was finally satisfied. She went in a gold-plated carriage, with an ivory coloured horse, and an uppity driver at the helm. We were left to wonder how we were to arrive at the ball. We decided we would not miss it, no matter what, and set out on foot; a long, dusty walk.

Forty-five minutes and many blisters later, we arrived at a large castle. I prayed nobody could tell the condition of my feet through my grandmother's heirloom glass slippers.

The party was in full swing. A line of girls swarmed the dance floor, where the handsome prince was dancing with none other than our evil stepsister, Cinderella. I sidled up to one of my friends from the village.

"She won't let him dance with anyone else," She told me. I looked sadly to the dance floor. All hope seemed lost. The band stopped playing for a second and Cinderella excused herself to go find relief in the royal bathrooms.

Before she returned, another song struck up. My dearly departed father had always told me to take life by the horns, so I made my way onto the dance floor and asked for a dance with the Prince.

Never in my life had I felt anything so enjoyable; the prince was even more handsome up close, and I could feel his strong muscles as he held me close. The night seemed to melt away around us, leaving me to believe that I could truly be his wife.

Suddenly, horror replaced my euphoria. Cinderella's hands were at my throat, and she was screaming curses like a sailor. I was pulled away from my prince charming and hit about the head a few times.

I panicked and ran, as far and as fast as I could, not realizing that I had lost my precious glass slipper on the stairs.

The next day an announcement was broadcasted that the Prince would be touring the village, looking for the girl who lost the glass slipper, for she would become his wife. It was hard to contain my excitement that not only would I be returned my slipper, but I would marry the handsome prince as well.

He arrived at our house late in the day. A footman gathered Beatrice, Cinderella and I together and produced my lovely slipper from a wooden box with purple velvet inlay.

"That's mine," I informed him as politely as I could, my eyes meeting the princes and exchanging sparks.

"Wait until everyone tries it on, and we'll see," The Prince replied. I was crushed. Surely, he would remember me? However, I was willing to wait so I could show him the proof.

Beatrice was the first to try it on. It was far too small for her feet, and she thrust it back into the footman's hand; outraged.

Then it was my turn. I slid my foot gently into the glass slipper. However, overnight my foot had swelled from the long trek, and many blisters had formed. My foot was far too big for the slipper. I protested this fact, trying to point out to them why it wouldn't fit, but they didn't believe me, and let Cinderella try it on. Of course, it fit her perfectly, and the Prince remembered her from the previous night, because of all the attention she had hogged of him.

So now, Cinderella is living in the palace with the Prince, selling her "happily ever after/cruel step family stories and making millions, while I'm locked away in a dirty jail for lying to the Prince.

Choose whichever story you wish to believe, but I'm telling you. Cinderella lied, and this is the story of what really happened.