Once upon a time, deep within an enchanted forest, there lived a young maiden who was made entirely of wood. She lived alone, unsure of where she came from or how she even came to be. The young maiden lived in a hollowed oak tree, the outside filled with birds who sang and played to their hearts content. She loved to hear the birds sing, but try as she might, they would not sing with her. This made the young maiden lonely, so she set off to find someone, just like the birds.

  The young maiden searched throughout the forest, wandering through the deep forest, and marching through the mossy grass below, but try as she might, she could not find anyone that would sing with her.

  One day, the young maiden traveled to a town at the edge of the forest in which she had never seen before. Large objects made of wood and stone filled the town as beings hurried along stone paths, occupied by whatever they were holding or screaming about. The young maiden tried to sing with the beings, but no one would stop to sing with her.

  This did not stop the young maiden, finally spotting a group of young children playing around a large water fountain. Laughter rang as the children played, reminding her of the birds she loved so dearly. She ran towards the children, hope filling her as she stopped and asked if they would sing with her.

  The children stared at her, their laughter fading into quiet whispers. Some pointed at her and giggled, not accepting her request.

  “Why are you made of wood?” One of the children asked her, his voice laden with mockery.

  The maiden hesitated.

  “I was just created this way,” she replied softly.

  “Does your wood burn?” Another asked, but the maiden did not know. Dusk was arriving and it was time for the young children to return home.

  “Will you come sing with us tomorrow?” They asked.

  “Yes!” The young maiden promised.

  The next day, the young maiden returned to the water fountain, but did not see any of the children outside. She decided to sit on a bench nearby to wait for them. Suddenly, the children jumped out from their hiding places, throwing burning candles from their small hands, igniting her wooden body and sending flecks of ash and ember into the air. The young maiden cried as a new feeling erupted from inside of her. Pain.

  The young maiden threw herself into the fountain as the children laughed. She felt the soothing relief of the water. As she got out, her body warped into something she didn’t recognize and started to flake. The children all ran away, leaving her alone and afraid. In her agony, the young maiden decided to do what made her happy. She started to sing:

  There once was a young wooden maiden,

  whose body was covered in ash,

  and although she tried

  the young maiden could not

  wash the dirt off her hands.

  So, we say hey ho, hey ho dilly dilly,

  the young maidens, hands full of ash.

  If only, if only the young maiden,

  could wash all the ash off her hands.

  After she sang the last breath of her song, a soft white light emerged from the still air. and a small green fairy with wings and eyes made of pure gold appeared.

  The fairy’s voice was as gentle as the wind. “I heard the song of your heart,” The fairy said, “And I have come to grant your wish. Do you want to sing with the birds?”

  “Yes,” the young maiden whispered.

  The fairy smiled, then raised her wand, tapping her gently on the forehead. “Then I shall do just that.”

  The young maiden’s body flashed then transformed, sprouting blazing wings of fire. Her eyes beamed like bright rubies and she held a crown of golden flames on her head. The young maiden beamed as her voice changed into a beautiful melody, just like the birds.

  “Never again will you have to be alone, young maiden, and you can now sing with the birds—”

  “Give that back Isabella!” Mia gasped as her younger stepsister snatched the book from her hands. Isabella’s pale yellow hair wisped in the cool breeze as her deep blue eyes held a mischievous shine. Isabella stood a foot taller than her, holding the book out of her reach.

  “But I want to read it, it looks so interesting,” Isabella sneered, dodging Mia and leading her in circles around the large oak tree in front of their manor.

  “Give it back!”

  “Oh, Isabella, would you stop teasing Mia.” Her father’s kind, but firm tone froze them in place. Isabella sighed and shoved the book roughly towards Mia.

  “But I was just playing with her…” Isabella complained.

  “Come on, let’s go inside, I believe supper is almost ready anyway.” He beckoned to them.

  “Fine.” Isabella sulked, then ran inside their manor, the smell of fresh bread wafting on the wind as she opened the front door.

  “Come on, you.” He said, turning towards Mia and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  “Ba, why are Isabella and Driscilla so mean to me?” Mia asked, clinching the book to her chest. “I’m always kind to them.”

  “They’re still getting to know us, Mia. They’re new at this whole stepsister thing too. Give them some time to warm up. I’m sure they will be just as kind as you are.”

  “I hope so.” She said, unconvinced.

  He laughed and ruffled her silver hair. “You’ll be peas in a pod in no time.”

  Mia huffed. “I hate peas.”

  This made her father laugh even more.

  Mia couldn’t help but smile. “Ba, can you read with me after supper tonight?”

  He put his finger up, remembering something. “Actually, I was going to teach you a defensive move that will let you get around any opponent. I think you’ll like it.”

  “Oh, Ba, can’t we just read tonight? I don’t want to train…”

  He looked at her then shrugged. “Fine, but tomorrow we’re training blindfolded.” He said, giving her a huge grin.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Mia shook her head, sticking her tongue out as she went into the house with her father. “Oh, Ba, you like training too much.”

  ***

  “Mia wake up! I told you to stay out of this room!”

  The sting of her stepmother’s whip hit her hard. It was just after dawn, and she had overslept again. Her stepmother, being notorious for making sure she was on time for her chores, took every opportunity to punish her for every perceived offense.

  Mia scrambled to get up, her grogginess and exhaustion slowing her down, but the whip struck her hard again.

  “Y-yes, Stepmother.” She said, preparing herself for the next strike.

  Wham!

  Her stepmother’s whip instantly raised welts on her legs and sides, but she didn’t dare move a muscle. That only made the beatings worse. Her favorite book tumbled out of her hands, as another hit on her arms made her flinch. She didn’t cry out, though, she was used to the whippings by now. Mia kept her face solid and immovable as the hard slabs underfoot.

  Wham!

  “Do your chores and Stay. Out. Of. This. Room.” Each word was punctuated by the whip cracking against her back, which she instinctively presented to protect the rest of her body.

  “Yes, Stepmother.” The last hit on her back made her wince, and she was rewarded with an extra lashing, this one cutting into her left leg.

  Her knees buckled as the last crack against her legs reopened a fresh laceration from the previous day, and she felt warm blood trickle down. Her stepmother smiled at the sight of her blood.

  “Your father is long dead, and this is my house. You will do as I say, or I will throw you out.”

  “I told you she was in here, Isabella, now pay up.” Driscilla, her same-aged stepsister, sneered in triumph. While Isabella was tall and lean, Driscilla was short and pudgy. Her brown hair and black eyes looked lifeless as she held out her hand to Isabella.

  “That’s cheating! She’s always in here.” Isabella slapped Driscilla’s hand away and scowled.

  “Then you shouldn’t have bet—a deal’s a deal!”

  “I didn’t bet you anything.” Isabella gave Mia a withering look before she turned around to go out of the room.

  Driscilla followed closely, hissing, “Yes, you did, Isabella!”

  “No, I didn’t, Driscilla!” The two teens shrieked and screamed like toddlers, neither backing down.

  Their mother had enough and pulled them away from each other. “Come on girls, let’s freshen up before breakfast. It’s almost time for your lessons.”

  Isabella started to follow her mother, but noticed Mia in the corner, and stopped short, mischief playing in her eyes. “Mother…” she stamped her foot, “Mia is being a little creep again with her judgy purple eyes. Make her stop looking at me!”

  “Mia, you know better,” Her stepmother warned, “Do you need another whipping as a reminder, you stubborn girl?”

  “I beg your pardon,” Mia said, quickly staring at the floor. “Actually, Stepmother, I…I was wondering if I could join you today for breakfast?”

  Isabella, Driscilla, and her stepmother looked at each other before bursting into laughter. They walked on to the hall, still laughing about her preposterous request all the way to her father’s old bed chamber.

  Mia smiled. It was incredibly easy to get rid of them when she wanted.

  At last, she was left in peace. She trudged to the kitchen gingerly, her wounds still stinging. She turned her thoughts to happy times when her Ba lived, when the house was full of life, and they had helpers for the farm. Now, there was only Kitty, the cook, and a handful of loyal farmhands.

  Mia winced from the painful welts as she scurried down the stairs and into the kitchen. It was hard not to cry, but there wasn’t any point to it. Not anymore. It had been eight years since her father died. Eight long excruciating years with her stepmother and stepsisters.

  Mia brushed herself off, the dirt and grime from yesterday still lingering on her clothes. Tomorrow was her eighteenth birthday, and she was looking forward to it. Her stepmother and stepsisters usually took off for town to shop on her birthday, leaving her alone to do her chores in peace. She knew that was their way of being cruel, but she welcomed it. Mia shook off her melancholy then hurried to grab the chicken feed and get outside, before her stepmother or stepsisters made their way down for breakfast.

  The morning was exuberantly cold for a day during the Harvest season. Usually during this time of year, the leaves on the trees in her Ba’s farm were bursting with color, full of life and vigor. This season, the leaves fell early, lying in heaps on the ground. Mia sighed.

  The crops hadn’t produced well since her father died, and it only got worse when her stepmother let go of most of the workers and underpaid the few who stayed. The rest of the needed work was passed on to Mia. She tried her best, but in spite of her hard work, many of the crops still didn’t produce well or withered completely.

  She took a deep breath as soon as she got out of the manor: dropping her shoulders and standing a bit taller as she walked toward the chicken coop. She picked up the pace as she got closer to the coop, wondering why the noise coming from it was louder than normal.

  “What in the world.” Mia said but was caught off guard as two roosters locked in battle flapped their wings ferociously, jumping in her path. She couldn’t get out of the way fast enough as their battle erupted just in time to catch her in the leg, sending her toppling over. The bucket of feed went flying into the air and over the gate as the chickens got out of the coop, rushing to eat.

  “You clumsy little twit!” Her stepmother screamed.

  Wham.

  “What are we supposed to do for breakfast now?” She said, gesturing to the manor, “All the chickens are gone.”

  Mia tried to hide her face but struggled against the ropes that were keeping her dangled in the air. She was tied to the large oak tree in front of the house, the same place where her Ba had collapsed and died years before. This was the spot her stepmother always brought her when she wanted to teach her a lesson. Mia didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of hearing her scream, so she only allowed silent tears to stream down her face. Her stepmother screeched with rage as her stepsisters looked on in sick fascination.

  Wham!

  “You know what,” Her stepmother said through her strikes, “You’re turning eighteen tomorrow, and I know just what to do with you.”

  With that, her stepmother unleashed a last crack of the whip for good measure, making her yelp against her will. With a satisfied grin, her stepmother left her dangling there, blood trickling down her back, until well past dusk. It wasn’t until after her stepmother turned in for bed that Kitty dared to bring her down.

  “You should get away from here, Miss, it’s not a safe place.” Kitty said, untying the ropes from around her scarred wrists.

  “You keep saying that, and I keep telling you the same thing.” Mia said, rubbing away some of the dried blood from her body.

  “Sweet girl, your Ba is long gone. You need to go live your life. Away from here.”

  “I can’t Kitty, this is my home.”

  ***

  The next day, Mia rounded the corner, finally finished with her chores. It was her birthday, and like always, her step family were nowhere to be found. It was almost dusk, the sun casting a long shadow against the trees as she made her way back to the front of the house. She was still sore from the beating her stepmother gave her the day before. Brushing it out of her mind, Mia looked forward to finding a quiet corner and reading from her favorite book. She wanted to avoid any more lashes than necessary, thinking of another spot to cozy up to other than by the fireplace.

  Her peace was short-lived. A large carriage pulled up to the manor with two large men dressed in black leather armor and long black cloaks got out, heading towards the front door. They were tall, each had short, chestnut brown hair and carried a sword on their hip. One of them with blue eyes, turned in her direction, then frowned.

  “Mia Bridgewater?” He asked, looking at her firmly.

  “Yes?” She hesitantly replied. She had a sinking feeling as her stomach turned into knots.

  “Mia Bridgewater, you have been enlisted into the Kings Guard, please gather one bag with your essential belongings and come with us.”

  “What?”

  “Oh good, we’re just in time!” Isabella jumped out of their carriage just as the two men nudged her into action by placing hands on their swords.

  “Happy Birthday, Cinderella!”

  “That’s sweet of you Isabella, now go inside and wash for supper.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Isabella said with glee.

  Driscilla turned to give Mia a withering look before heading inside after Isabella.

  “Here.” Her stepmother approached her slowly with a gleeful look dancing in her eyes. “I already have your things...”

  Her stepmother held the book for her to take, but refused to let go when Mia grabbed it.

  “This trash doesn’t belong in my house. And neither do you.”

  Mia grasped the book close to her chest as her stepmother shoved it, then turned away as her stepmother went inside the manor and quickly slammed the door. She heard the familiar click of the door lock as the sinking feeling got worse.

  “Let’s go Miss.” The guard with brown eyes sternly guided her towards the carriage, nudging her forward begrudgingly.

  It was only then that she could bear to take one last look at her Ba’s house, as she vowed to return to it someday.