Ceren Penrose

Ceren had been preparing his dress for days now, ever since the news had come. It was his mother’s old dress, a nice light pink with ruffles on the shoulders. He had cut it up a bit, tailoring it to his more masculine frame, and was finishing with adding the buttons and whatnot today.

The ball, as well, was tonight.

When Ceren finished, he dressed himself and fixed his hair in the mirror. “...Cute. It’s cute!” he assured himself, smiling as he looked at his outfit. He heard his sisters preparing to leave and hurried down from the attic to the main room.

They looked at him like he was crazy as he descended the steps. He stared back, his smile slowly falling. “Um? What is it?”

“Oh, it’s just...” Alice started, scratching her jaw.

“Well...” Mary added helpfully.

“It appears you have a rip on it.” Ceren’s stepmother interrupted, gesturing to his shoulder. She stepped closer, heels clacking, and ripped his blouse. He gasped, chin quivering.

“Why did you—ah?!” His mother’s dress was ripped, destroyed while he wore it, and he was cut by their sharp nails in the process. They left laughing while he sat sobbing on the stairs.

Ceren bolted after them, watching their carriage leave, then he turned and slumped into the ground, pressing his face to the cold stone of the fountain. “I hate this. I hate it. Mother, mother, please forgive me, please. They destroyed it, they ruined everything, I’m really sorry...!”

“Ah?”

Ceren whipped around at the sound. A woman stood in a sparkling blue dress, a wand in her hand, and she looked pitifully at Ceren. “Poor boy.” she said, pursing her lips. She was beautiful—young, with subtle makeup and a face that was timeless. Ceren stared in awe, sniffling and blinking.

“Are... a-are you my fairy godmother?” he asked.

“Bingo!” she exclaimed. “And, no offense, my dear, but you look terrible right now. You poor thing. Stand, stand! Let’s get you looking pretty for your prince, hm?” she said, grinning wide.

Ceren staggered up. “What? But... I’m not allowed to go. How would I, even? I have no horse, no carriage...”

“Don’t worry about it! I’m your fairy godmother, boy. I can do practically anything, if you wish it.” she said, waving her wand. “I’ll keep your mother’s dress intact, but it’ll look much more elegant.”

He spun. The dress changed into a beautiful blue and white outfit, and he gasped softly. “Oh. Oh, she would love this.” he giggled. She then went on a spree—she changed mice into horses, lizards into coachmen, a pumpkin into a carriage.

He stared in bigger awe, and she nudged him to the carriage. “Hurry! You’ll be late to the party at this rate!” she said, then paused. “My god. What are those?”

She crouched and looked at his shoes, then shook her head in disgust. “...absolutely not! Even if they’re unseen... no. Stay still.” she sighed. She waved her wand, and his ratty shoes became beautiful glass slippers.

“Thank you! Thank you so much.” he said as he was ushered into the golden carriage.

“Those wear out by midnight. Everything does! Hurry home before then, please!” Ceren’s fairy godmother exclaimed as the horse pulled the carriage away.

He arrived at the castle long after everyone else did, rushing up the long staircase into the opulent building. He rushed through the halls, then found himself on a balcony overlooking everybody. Hundreds of beautiful noble ladies and gentlemen stood below, dressed in various colors, and they all looked up when he arrived. He panted softly, cheeks pink.

Then he stood up straighter and descended the steps, his head held high, right towards where the prince stood mesmerized at the foot of the staircase.

Ceren’s tears had subsided by the time he heard the voices outside. He sniffled and wiped his wet cheeks, crouching on the rotten floor of the attic.

His stepmother had found out. She’d realized that Ceren had snuck out to the ball and that he had danced and talked with the royal prince, and she was not happy. For an hour, she scolded him. She hit him on his arms and his cheeks and then dragged him upstairs and shoved him into his room and locked him in. He’d scratched and pounded on the door, sobbing and crying out for help, but nobody let him free.

The three little mice that followed Ceren around came scurrying when they saw his distress, biting at his pants and nuzzling at his ankles. He wiped his nose and pet the fattest one. “...Hi guys,” he sniffled, laughing softly. “Are you coming to comfort me? So sweet.”

The voices outside continued speaking before abruptly stopping. Ceren stood and walked to the window, sitting on the windowsill and pulling the mice up onto his lap. “Sorry, my pants are dirty.” he mumbled, leaning his head back.

He closed his eyes and caught his breath, calming himself. “Maybe if I stay in here and be quiet, she’ll let me out sooner...” he pondered aloud. “Right? She can’t be so cruel as to keep me in here until I die.”

The voices grew louder, as if they were inside. Now, Ceren could hear his sisters’ shrill voices joining the rumbling male’s voice. He nibbled on his lip, blinking back more tears. “It’s alright. It’s alright.” he said, scratching the chin of an eager little mouse. He knew what they must be doing—trying on his shoe. He’d left his slipper behind in a rush to leave the castle after the ball nights ago and it was said the prince was searching for the holder now.

Ceren rested his temple against the window, watching birds fly across the bright sun. He swallowed hard, then let himself sing. The ditty was one his mother sang to put her son to sleep way back when, and he remembered the lyrics by heart. So he sang from it, letting his voice grow slightly, accompanied by occasional sniffles.

The mice banded together to open up the window, nudging the glass with their noses until his voice carried into the afternoon air.

He did not know that below, the prince could hear every word.

[MAKE YOUR OWN]