My Cinderella Story

This is a short story I wrote two years ago. It’s a short story with really short episodes, lol. I just unearthed it to keep you guys entertained while I’m busy typing and editing. Has been scheduled to post Monday, Wednesday and Friday every week till the end. Enjoy *wink*


No moaning about it being short! Lol.

My Cinderella Story



Meeting Daniella.


This is my Cinderella Story.

Ha, that got you thinking about the fairytale, midnight dance and missing shoe Cinderella, right? Darn, people are so predictable, huh? Well, while we all love that and-they-lived-happily-ever-after story, this is not about it at all.

Burst your bubble, did I? Oh no, how wicked of me. LOL. Okay, forget the lol. I did laugh but not that out loud. It’s a little impossible, being all huddled down here, in what is now my prison cell for the next four weeks. God, as I look around this six by eight hellhole, I wonder how the hell did that ever-smiling, annoying Daniella manage it.

Oh damn it, I’m digressing. And possibly making you believe that I’m just here to waste your time. Which is not true at all. I do have a tale for you, though not a fairytale one, but a tale nonetheless.

It’s just not about Cinderella or the likes of her. They are simply unbearable, right? I mean all that righteous, do-good jolly nature, yuck!

Well, this story here is actually about me, and as I’m sure you’ve already figured out by now—I AM NO CINDERELLA.

No I am not Cinderella, more like wicked Stepsister if you like. But all the same this is my Cinderella story from my own point of view, and for the next few weeks you are going to be hearing it. So do stay tuned.

My name is Adaeze Onuorah. And I’m the only daughter of Chief Igwe Onuorah. A spare parts business tycoon with several shops at Alaba and a few others at Onitsha. I say I’m an only daughter because I hardly think that stepdaughters count as real children. Anyway, I do have a stepmother and a stepsister… all thanks to my grandmother’s brilliant idea that my father needed another wife after the death of my own dear mother. Not only to provide the much desired heir apparent but also to provide me with a new mother.

Like I needed one.

So you can say that I’m the only biological daughter of a millionaire Spare parts dealer. I have a half-brother, who at the moment is globe-trotting somewhere in the United States of America, all in the name of studying abroad of course. As if there are no secondary schools anymore in Nigeria. Nonsense!

Anyways, I am condemned to this prison for the next four weeks—not enough time to tell, in detail, the misery I’ve had to live through since my misguided father followed his mother’s advice and brought to our grand looking home a tiresomely pretty and sweet woman with her equally annoying daughter sixteen years ago. So am just going to regale you with only vital happenings over the years.

Let’s begin with that unfortunate evening sixteen years ago when daddy brought home that witch and her witch of a daughter.

I was in my exquisitely furnished bedroom listening to the music of Mariah Carey via my iPod when the maid knocked on the door and waited, as I had instructed her to do, for my permission before entering.

“And what is it now, Chidera?” I asked the scrawny looking thing as she stood ten yards from my bed. Another instruction I had given her. You never can tell how clean these housemaids are, right?

“Small madam, na only sai Chief dey call you for parlour.” She responded hurriedly in her squeaky, miserable voice.

I swept to my feet immediately and eyed her disdainfully, not quite comprehending where in God’s name my grandmother found such an illiterate ugly urchin. “Chidera, have I not told you to stop calling me small madam, eh?” Somehow the hand fan flew out of my hand and hit her on the head.

I did not hit her willingly, mind you. These things happen when you are surrounded by a bunch of hopelessly, unreliable illiterates.

Ewo! My head o.” Chidera shrieked like that mild knock was enough to break her rock hard skull. “Sorry small madam… I mean to say Princess… na forget I dey forget.”

I simply eyed her as she stood there rubbing her miserable forehead. “So my father is back already. Did he come with anyone else?” I had to ask since my father had made it a habit for the past three months to be coming home with this rather nice lady, who I frankly didn’t like very much.

“That aunty follow am come.”

“Again?” Why can’t that woman stay in her own house for God’s sake I wondered, frowning. “Ehen, and what are you still waiting for, silly? Are you going to carry me downstairs?”

“No be so, small… em Princess… na sai one very fine gal follow am come today.” Chidera scratched her head edging towards the door as she no doubt saw the angry look in my eyes.

“What!” I snapped out. “And you are just telling me, you big fool.” I felt like smashing her head now. “Get out!” I roared.

Chidera didn’t need me repeating myself. She scuttled through the door like the devil was on her tail. I threw the hand fan at the door, wishing it had hit her senseless big head instead. Very fine gal indeed.

But who can that be again? I wondered.

It took me almost thirty minutes to dress up. After all, I very well cannot see visitors in simple home wears, can I?

As I entered our lavishly decorated sitting room, I noticed a very beautiful fair complexioned girl. Ha, so that stupid Chidera was right, she’s a very fine gal for real. And she was smiling widely and brightly as my father spoke to her and… was sitting on my favorite seat. What!

“Ada. What took you so long?” My father asked sternly the second he saw me.

I looked at him sullenly. Can you imagine the embarrassment? Reprimanding me already in front of his stupid girlfriend and this smiling yellow pawpaw, eh?

“I’m sorry daddy but I was sleeping when Chidera came to wake me up that you were calling me.” I lied easily, it was one thing I was very good at. “So, I had to quickly dress up and rush down.”

“And your dress is really beautiful.” Aunty, as I called her at my father’s order, complimented. She was smiling widely in her usual friendly manner. And it just struck me then that the seat-grabbing yellow pawpaw looked a lot like her.

“Thank you, Aunty.” I responded managing a smile of my own.

“Sit down.” My father instructed me pointing to the seat beside his. “We have something to tell you.”

We? As in him and Aunty? Or all three of them? I reluctantly sat down, wondering why daddy hadn’t offered this seat to yellow pawpaw over there instead of allowing her steal my favorite seat. I preferred that seat because it was closer to the television and also to the side French door—in case I needed a quick escape.

“But first of all,” my father continued in his heavy accent Igbo man voice, “let me introduce you to Aunty’s daughter, Daniella.”

Yellow pawpaw was now beaming. Daniella ké? I smiled cautiously, refusing to be deceived by that over-smiling yellow pawpaw. What kind of oyibo name is Daniella?

“Daniella, this is my daughter, Adaeze.” My father finished. Looking expectantly at both of us.

“Adaeze, what a beautiful name.” Daniella beamed at me. “It means the daughter of a king.” ITK—I too know. As if I didn’t know the meaning of my own name. “I love that name.”

You see what I mean now by not being deceived? Who has a name like Daniella and says that Adaeze is a beautiful name, eh? I sincerely hope you people are taking note already. Hian!

But of course I played my part very well. Yellow pawpaw wass not the only one who could play good girl. “Oh, thank you. Your name is beautiful too.” I smiled. A friendly smile that did not go beyond my mouth.

My father nodded his big balding head. The outcome had satisfied him. Points for me. “Am glad you two are getting along already. And you will even get along more when I tell you that you are both same age”

Getting along, ké? We just met five minutes ago, for Christ’s sakes. I wondered if my father was starting to lose his mind.

“Really?” The already annoying Daniella gave a soft laugh. “You are twelve just like me, can you believe it?”

And what is there not to believe there, I wondered in my mind, my good girl’s smile still in place. There must be at least a million twelve year olds in Nigeria alone. Mtcheew!

“Now to the good news.” My father was smiling broadly now. His off-white teeth sparkling in his big ebony face. “Ada, Aunty and Daniella will be moving in here next month.”

I nearly screamed what! But I remembered that my father would totally disapprove of such a behavior. So I bit back the scream. There had to be a good explanation for this rash decision, I reasoned. Maybe fire burnt down their house—though it unfortunately forgot to burn off that wide smile from their faces. I firmed my mouth to stop the snigger at my naughty thought.

Or maybe they were driven out by the landlord because they couldn’t pay their rent. From the ugly skirt and blouse Daniella was wearing I didn’t think they had much. Poverty stricken people!

“Aunty and I would be getting married in exactly four weeks.” My father’s announcement broke into my thoughts.

This time I forgot all about avoiding my father’s disapproval, and screamed, “WHAT!”


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