Dreams Of Fallen Ashes

He didn't ask.

He just slid on the shoe, and that was that.

Granted, it was all a huge improvement from my previous position – a dizzying improvement. I had to keep reminding myself that everything was real, everything was fine, that I truly was in a fairy tale. And granted, I had asked – no, begged – to go to that dance in the first place. If I hadn't –

If I hadn't, I would still be wearing sturdy leather shoes, sleeping in warm ashes, and dreaming.

Not here, undreaming, with ankles caught in sharp chains of diamond and gold, watching others dance.

From Guest Contributor Mari Ness