[ WP ] A simple , classic fairy tale

Three days ago: 
 
 
 
 She got the wedding invitation on her birthday. Mary tore open the package, read what was written, and swore with a sharp and salty tongue. 
 
 
 
 
 `` That bint, that bitch, that four-faced liar!'' she ranted to the sky. `` Why? Why must she taunt me?'' 
 
 
 
 Her mirror, as always, was silent. She glared at it for a moment, and liked not what she saw there. 
 
 
 
 Hair like an unpruned hedge, wrinkles deep as divots. Beauty faded. 
 
 
 
 At least her dresses were still in good condition. Some makeup, a few long hours of work on the electric strands, and she'd be presentable for the wedding. 
 
 
 
 God damn her stepdaughter. God damn her for doing this to her. 
 
 
 
 Two days ago: 
 
 
 
 The dresses were ruined, after all - moths had eaten it from long disuse. She had to go and get a new one fitted, a great black sweeping thing. Inauspicious at a wedding, but she could n't care less about the luck she'd bring on this one. It was a proper dress, the kind you could *waltz* in. 
 
 
 
 It cost money. Too much money. Mary could n't bring herself to care. The widow of a widower, there was n't much for her to spend it on, these days. Her hair, though frizzy, was still a rich and raven-black. She spent some time at a hair-dressers, making it presentable. 
 
 
 
 The wedding was in two days. Damn her step-daughter, damn her twenty times over. She could have saved some money, managed it properly. But no, she got a wedding invitation. 
 
 
 
 The bitch. 
 
 
 
 Yesterday: 
 
 
 
 The trip to the church where the service would be held was a long one, long and boring. Mary drank a little, and then a lot, just to steady her nerves. Bourbon, whiskey, gets a little risky. Vodka, red wine, ca n't walk in a straight line. 
 
 
 
 She got a taxi. Mary had given up caring about money at this point. Four and a half hours with a silent, stone-faced man. 
 
 
 
 The motel down the road was a seedy place, but Mary fell asleep easily enough. She threw up halfway through the night, splattering her new dress with vomit. 
 
 
 
 Today: 
 
 
 
 And the evil stepmother danced in red-hot iron shoes until she died. They found her body behind the church, broken from the fall off of the spire. She wore her soiled dress, though the red did n't show up on the black.
