Sinderella

Once upon a time, not very long ago and not so far away, there lived a girl named Sinderella. Her home was a five-steepled castle that was once a church of a long forgotten religion. It sat on an island that divided a river running with winter's melting snow. All secluded, she lived there with her mother and two sisters. . . . . so she thought. The supposed siblings and mock matriarch were really re-born evangelists who discovered the baby Sin all alone in the white marbled temple, encrusted with flowering ivy. Years ago, as they went door to door, interrupting meals and passing out brochures on chastity, there was a terrible drought and the rivers flow was low. The three crossed over to grand estate, through myriad gardens and rose encrusted arches. They knocked, rang and hooted at the portal but not thwarted at the no-one-is-home ploy, they broke in. Echoes were their only reply in the vast, empty chambers of the castle. Determined to recruit, they searched each room and checked every closet, marveling at the treasures they discovered. Way up in the tippy top attic of the tallest turret, they came upon the abandoned babe. Happy that they found an audience, they thumped, preached and pouted but to no avail, Sin just gurgled in response. Since the accommodations were so appealing, they decided to wait till she was old enough to make them tea and read their pamphlets.

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