A Preview to: The Ballet Cinderella

 Hey Girle's'!!
It's Bellise. Back to normal. :) Okay, this is just a rough idea thing. I'm might change it late, but I don't know. So, read my idea! Check it out!! It's a story about a girl who lived in 1905    

                The Ballet Cinderella

             By: BelliseMarianna

“Take the shoes, darling. You know how bad you want to,” Mrs. Sherbet, the owner of the ballet shoe store, said acting like one of those creepy people you see on television. When people start talking like that, you obviously know something bad is going to happen. The only thing she was missing, to top off the whole creepy look, was a Maleficent costume or an Ursula costume. Before I go on and spoil most of the story, let me tell you how it all began.

It all started about two weeks ago. I found out that my mom had made plans for me to go to my aunt’s house for a quick stay. I was so excited to go until I found out it was my aunt on my mom’s side. She is so mean! Every time I go to her house, her and her daughters always push me around. I have to wake up at four A.M. and do chores and I have to vacuum the driveway and use a toothbrush instead of a sponge to clean the leftover dirty dishes. I keep telling my mom that my stays at my aunt’s house are never pleasant, but she doesn’t listen. She says, “It’s always nice to visit family. Even if they are the strangest and most annoying family members!” Aside from that, I was a little excited. The town my aunt lives in is the home of one of the greatest dance studios on the planet! Inner Star Dance Academy. My favorite part of the studio is the big shoe store in the back. That’s owned by Mrs. Sherbet. She’s a weird old lady. Her cats come to the store and she mingles with them. She watches the weirdest show on the planet called, ‘Midlife Crisis.’ The show says the same thing throughout the entire show, “My midlife crisis is,” and then they say their midlife crisis. It’s weird. Her last name really works, too. Her hair is the color of sherbet! I never thought that an eighty-year-old women would choose rainbow as her go to hairstyle. Whenever someone mentions her, I always have a vision of her in a bowl and me eating her.    

Ever since my first visit to my aunt’s house (my first visit was when I was three. My whole family went on that trip!), I loved dancing in that studio. I went from Baby Ballet class to Level Four Pointe class. I’m in Level Four pointe class now. I’m lucky that my house is close to the dance studio. I live thirty minutes from the studio. My aunt actually lives across the street from it.

Everybody knows me in the studio. I guess you could say that I’m popular. My step cousins take ballet, too. They’re pretty good but, I’ve been working way harder than they have at it. Our teacher says to go home and practice our dance routine and I go home and take three hours out of my night and just twirl around and practice the routine. They go home and text their friends all night long. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they’re out to get me. Once, I was in the studio practicing and they walked by and tripped me. It was super embarrassing.

    Enough about how good I am at ballet. Let’s go on with the story. So, it was two weeks ago that I ended up at the Wicked Witch of the West’s home. I brought two toothbrushes. One for me and one for the dishes. What I didn’t know was that this was no ordinary visit to my aunt’s house.

    I arrived at the house with no welcome. Actually, they did welcome me. They walked up to me and handed me the vacuum. That meant that they wanted me to work right away. So, I did. I vacuumed the driveway, cleaned the dishes with nothing but a toothbrush. I polished my aunt’s feet, I cleaned my cousins’ jewelry, I cleaned out the toilets, folded the laundry, put the laundry away, and soon was about to collapse when my aunt called.

    “Ella, darling. Come here,” my aunt said.

    “Yes, Aunt Elizabeth,” I said with a tear making it’s way down my face.

“Come here, darling,” she said again as I walked toward her sitting in a turquoise lounge chair. Her dress was all spread out and she was sitting with her cat, Lucifer.  

“Why the sobbing face, child?” She said looking at me crying.

“What sobbing face?” I said as I wiped all the tears away.

“Oh no, no, no...there is nothing to cry over. Now, how about you go make me some tea and you come and clean the fireplace while I sip it,” she said. I didn’t know how to deal with that.

How is it? Good bad?





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