Sometime that morning, the fairy crocodile had wandered into a storm.
She was not large. She was about as big as a squirrel, and sometimes she slept all night in a bird’s nest. So she was easily swept along, and had been blown right out to sea. Fortunately, she still had her magic wand with the glowing heart; but it was heavy, and she was tired of carrying it. She wished she had brought one of her pretend wands instead. For though she had only one real wand, she pretended to have several.
A few of her pretend wands (the ones she didn’t have) were at home in a matchbox. And a few were tucked into the pocket of her invisible raincoat, in case the un-pretend wand got bent by a bat bouncing off of it, or bitten by a rabid dog. But she had not thought to put on her invisible raincoat before going out into the storm. Alas, it would have come in handy! Now her wings were soaked.
She had been hurtled all day like a sopping leaf around ships and birds. She had skittered among dolphins, and alongside someone in a rowboat. He had been bellowing songs at the storm, and the storm had been tearing his songs to shreds: the fairy crocodile wished with all her glowing red heart that he would row safely home.
Then the wind hurled her on – right back out over land – and roared off.
When the fairy crocodile had collected herself, and looked around – she saw that she was lost. Even the trees looked different, and the houses over which she flew had strange roofs, with chimneys. It was snowing, and the streets were full of rushing carriages. It never snowed where she was from. The fairy crocodile shivered, and flew faster.
The carriages were full of beautiful girls, wearing their best gowns; and they whirled down the streets toward a palace with spires and domes. For it was the prince’s twenty-fourth-and-a-half birthday, and every marriageable maiden in the kingdom had been summoned to a ball. The prince was going to chose the most beautiful to be his bride.
But for one particular girl, the carriages were desolately empty. She sat in a dark courtyard, in a torn dress, surrounded by mice, and wept…
The crocodile fairy had been feeling aimless and unhappy; but confronted with tears, she knew just what to do. We are all here for a purpose, and the fairy crocodile was here to comfort the afflicted. She flew right down to the courtyard, and asked the poor girl what was wrong.
“I tried to be so good to them,” the girl sobbed. “I mended their clothes, did their hair, polished their shoes. I handmade my own dress, too, but they still said I couldn’t go to the ball.”
Then the whole tale came out, bit by bit. The girl’s father had died long ago, and she lived with a wicked stepmother and two cruel stepsisters. They made her cook, and fetch, and carry, and clean the house. But she still dreamed by the fireplace after they went to bed, and the logs had burned to cinders; and she had dreamed of going to a ball since forever.
By now, you have probably guessed that the storm had blown the fairy crocodile clean over the equator and right into the wrong story.
“They tore her dress,” one of the mice chattered, holding up a scrap, “even though she lets us sleep in her room.”
Another mouse added. “Those mean stepsisters throw shoes at us.”
“Well,” the fairy crocodile huffed. And her breath came out misty-silver in the cold. “We shall just have to see what we can do.”
She pulled at a tatter of Cinderella’s dress. “We must think of something. And it must be warm. I won’t have you catching your death of cold merely to meet a prince and become fabulously wealthy and admired. Sensible clothes and shoes, I always say, the kind that will last for years and always come back into style.”
She tapped the red heart of her wand on her scaly back.
“Stand,” she instructed. Cinderella and the mice stood.
“Turn…” They turned, slowly.
The fairy crocodile waved her wand. The glowing heart twirled: a small whirlwind appeared in the courtyard. It grew in speed, sound, and dimension. Cinderella caught glimpses of huge, bright flowers and fruit… the mice saw visions of fish and seagoing birds. The whirlwind rose over their heads, glowing like moonlight – then fell with a thunderclap. They all screamed. When they peered around them, Cinderella stood draped in what felt to her like a large, floral tent. Under this, she wore a warm wool dress, and fleece leggings. Her hair had been twisted up to resemble a baobab tree: it tapered upwards till the ends hung over like whispering leaves. They were decorated with flower shaped jewels. On her tiny feet, she wore socks and snow boots.
The fairy crocodile nodded approvingly. “Timeless.” Then she snapped her jaws. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she added. “How rude of me!”
But she couldn’t help snapping again, for the mice had been changed into wildebeest, and crocodiles are helplessly fond of wildebeest. The huge animals milled around the courtyard, pawing the ground. Their migratory instinct was strong: any instant they must be off on a journey of thousands of miles.
“Climb onto one of their backs, my dear,” the fairy crocodile encouraged Cinderella. “They will drop you off at the palace on their way to the savannas.” Her jaws helplessly snapped again at the nearest hind leg. “And remember, you must leave the ball before midnight, or your clothes will turn back to tatters in this dreadful cold.”
“But how will I get home?” Cinderella asked. For the wildebeest would not return before midnight. Their migratory instincts would not bring them back for months.
“I’ll think of something!” the fairy crocodile promised. “Just be sure to leave in good time!” Then the gate opened, and the herd rushed out, and the little leaves of Cinderella’s hair floated on the wind.
Cinderella and the Fairy Crocodile, part 2
Cinderella and the Fairy Crocodile, part 3
The Joseph Tree, a collection of poems, is available from Wiseblood. For a preview of West of Moonlight, East of Dawn, her retelling of an old fairy tale, visit westofmoonlight.art.
- Cinderella and the Fairy Crocodile, part 2: The Middle - January 15, 2025
- Cinderella and the Fairy Crocodile, part 1: The Beginning - January 8, 2025
- A Cinderella Heart - September 9, 2024
Wonderful story! Fascinatingly imaginative and extremely well- written. Can\’t wait for the next chapter!