Original Writing - Prose: A Russian Cinderella

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A Russian Cinderella

Larissa Palovski hurried through the closing marketplace, clutching a long black shawl around her face and long, dark hair to keep out the approaching Russian winter's bite. The vegetable traders were closing up their stalls or serving their last customers, not that there was much to sell, with the war shortages being what they now were. An old peasant woman gingerly proffered a fistful of coins to a turnip seller, and received a moulded specimen of food in exchange. The world she was now headed for was unimaginably different to the squalor of war-torn Russia now. Larissa reflected on how it had happened, that she, a lowly miller's daughter, and a member of the royal family had fallen for each other.

 It had been a whirlwind romance, as they say. She had being temporarily working as a caterer at the Imperial Palace for a ball held by the Tsar for some reason or another, when she had looked up and caught the eye of Prince Wilhelm. He, not knowing that she was just a caterer wearing borrowed finery, took her for a member of the aristocracy and invited her to dance with him, and from then it had gone on. One could hardly refuse the invitation, she mused.

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Prince Wilhelm paced up and down his room sulkily. He was in a real mess now the royal family knew what was happening. His father had given him until ten o'clock to decide what he was going to do. Wilhelm had two options available to him; he could terminate his relationship with Larissa, and face public disgrace once the details came out, or to flee for another country with her and give up his wealth. He decided he didn't much like the idea of either of them, but on balance the latter would be the best thing to do for ...

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