Cinderella (Aschenputtel, 1812)

unforgettable.

Ashen Puddle, first recorded by the

Brothers Grimm in 1812. The real

Cinderella.

Not for the faint of heart.

Once upon a time, a girl’s mother grew

ill. As she lay dying, she whispered,

“Remain pious and good, dear child, and

I will watch over you from heaven.”

Then she closed her eyes and died.

When winter came, the snow spread a

glistening white cloth over her mother’s

grave. Then, with the return of spring

and sun, the snow melted away.

Her father remarried and brought home

two daughters.

Beautiful of face but black of heart.

Though her father lived, he did nothing

to stop them as they stripped the girl

of her clothes, forced her to sleep by

the hearth covered in ash, and named her

Ashen Puddle—Cinderella.

One day, the father prepared for a

journey to the fair. He asked his

stepdaughters, “What shall I bring you?”

“Beautiful clothes,” cried one. “Pearls

and jewels,” demanded the other. But

when he turned to Cinderella, she said

simply, “Father, bring me the first twig

that brushes against your hat on your

way home.” The stepsisters laughed cruelly

at her simple request.

Each dawn, Cinderella wept at her

mother’s grave, where she planted the

small hazel branch and watered it with

her tears.

From sorrow it grew into a mighty tree,

home to a white bird.

Whatever she wished, the bird brought

down to her.

The king held a grand festival, three

nights of dancing.

[Music]

Cinderella begged to go.

She is mocked and tasked to sort lentils

from ashes twice. Birds help her—the

good into the pot, the bad into the

crop. Yet her stepmother still refuses.

So she weeps beneath the hazel tree.

“Little tree, little tree, shake over me,

that silver and gold may come down and

cover me.”

The bird delivered gowns of silver and

gold, and slippers first of silk and

silver.

Then, on the final night, slippers of

pure gold.

Each night she slipped away.

Each night she danced with a prince.

[Music]

Each night she vanished before he could

speak her name.

On the third night, desperate not to

lose her,

the prince spreads pitch on every stair;

Cinderella flees, but her golden slipper

sticks fast.

The prince vows to marry the one it

fits. Slipper in hand, the prince sought

his mysterious love.

From house to house

[Music]

until he reached Cinderella’s door.

The stepsisters pressed their feet

inside, one slicing off her toe, the

other her heel.

Yet the shoe would not fit.

“Turn and peep. Turn and peep. There’s

blood within the shoe. The shoe—it is

too small for her. The true bride waits

for you.”

The prince asked, “Are there no other

maidens here?” Her father replied

coldly, “There’s only little Cinderella,

my dead wife’s daughter. It’s impossible

that she can be the bride.”

But the prince demands to see her. At

last, Cinderella appears,

still clad in ashes. He lifted her foot,

and the golden slipper slipped on as if

made for her—faith and purity revealed

at last.

The girl he danced with under moonlight

stood before him.

On Cinderella’s wedding day, the white

birds returned, not with song, but with

wings of justice. They swooped upon the

wicked stepsisters and pecked out their

eyes for every cruel deed. Blinded by

ambition, cursed forever.

Beneath the hazel tree that grew from

tears, Cinderella found her prince.

No fairy godmother granted this wish.

Only a daughter’s devotion to her

mother’s memory and the reward that

comes to those who remain

pious and good.

The Grimm version ends with poetic

justice. No miracles, no apologies,

just a brutal lesson. Cruelty will be

repaid in kind.

This is truth the way it was once told.

Thank you for watching True Grimm

Stories. Subscribe for more tales that

were never meant to be bedtime stories.

More to come.

[Music]