The Trouble With Glass Slippers
The door swung open releasing me into the night. A sharp edge on my slipper catches on the fine carpet of the stairs. The jolt sends me into the marble bannister, searing my blood soaked dress to my skin.
My step-mother constantly informs me I am too impatient, she wants me to learn control. Washing floors and cleaning house are not my idea of control. If anything it bred within me the need to prove my skills. She has no faith in me, preferring her offspring over me.
This assignment wasn’t supposed to be so messy. The mess has been trained out of me, all I know is slick and silent ways to kill. I know how to sneak up on targets and divest them of life before they are any the wiser.
Boots pound on the terrace above me. I don’t suppose I could hope for a clean escape after that escapade. Who knew a body could hold so much blood or fight back when it had lost so much of it?
I yank at my foot but the chipped glass is caught fast. I slip off the offending slipper and sprint for freedom.
Wells readers that's it...you can tell me what you think or just read for enjoyment. (And if you'd like to vote/like it I'm number 126) I'm looking forward to popping around to all of the other blogs.