Ellie

She was lonely. Always alone, Ellie longed for someone. She needed a friend, someone who possessed the simple truths of the first day of a crisp, new autumn. And she was tired. She was tired of all the work, she was tired of always being kind, and she was just tired of being tired.

The sun peaked in through a tiny crack in the wall. Ellie rubbed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them again that something would be different. She didn’t hope for a big change, just a small one. If only one thing in the tiny room could be different, a picture on the wall instead of the constant nothing that now hung there, a small blanket on the bed, or even just smelling something besides liver pudding cooking down in the kitchen.

“Marmalade would be nice,” Ellie whispered to her pillow. “That would be different! Indeed, the smell of marmalade would be heaven.”

Ellie continued to wish for the smell of marmalade as she laid in bed, never realizing that she had never actually smelled marmalade before. In fact, Ellie didn’t know if marmalade smelled like anything at all. Servants weren’t given such fine things to smell.

Ellie rose out of bed and threw on her usual array of dirty, brown clothing and high-tailed it to the kitchen. If she was late again Madame Selena would be very angry, very angry indeed. Last time Ellie was late, Madame Selena made her sleep in the ashes near the wood stove for a week without a blanket or a pillow. Ellie did not want to go through that again.

“Ellie, you have exactly 3.2 seconds to get this tray up to Madame Selena’s room before she starts having a conniption,” Mama Mary Elaine whispered to Ellie as she breezed through the kitchen, picking up the milk pitcher and breakfast tray, balancing the pitcher on her head and tray on her right hip.

“I’m going, I’m going Mama Mary! Thanks for getting it ready.” And with that, Ellie was gone in a flash, turning the many corners and passing the many doors that led to Madame Selena’s room.

“Ellieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Madame Selena’s high pitched voice pierced Ellie’s ears. “Ellie, where is my breakfast?”

Ellie turned the sharp corner to Madame Selena’s bed chamber and as she did the tray that she carried on her hip went flying, spinning like a disc, faster and faster until, SPLAT! It landed food side first in Madame Selena’s lap!

The look on Madame Selena’s face was indescribable. Her ears seemed to grow bigger and fatter, and her already enormous shaped head seemed to grow at least two sizes in diameter. The moles on Madame’s face seemed to sprout hair in an instant and her complexion turned from its usual pale, colorless shade into a bright red rash. Ellie had to fight her first instinct, which was to run until her legs gave out and she could run no more. However, Ellie knew that if she did run, she had no where to go in the end, and sleeping in the ashes would be far better than fending for herself out in the forest that surrounded the manor.

“Madame Selena is making me do extra chores all week,” Ellie thought to herself as she folded Madame Selena’s enormous pantaloons. “I wish someone would just come take me away from here!” Ellie said out loud as she folded the last of the pile.

Walking back to the kitchen, Ellie imagined that this house was hers, all the colorful tapestries and paintings, all the animals on the farm, and even the scary wood. She imagined that she was a Madame.

“Did you hear about the contest that the Madame is holding next week during the festival?” Mama Mary Elaine asked the assistant cook as she was cutting onions. “Yep, she is holding a writing contest. First prize gets to attend the ball in West Brook. Imagine that. A real ball!!!” Mary said, looking straight at Ellie as she said it.

Ellie sat down on the kitchen stool in a trance. Had Mama Mary relayed this information for Ellie’s sake? Ellie knew that she was the only one of the servants who could read or write. She was the one who read the work lists in the morning, and she was the only one who could shop for groceries because she could read the Madame’s list.

“Yes!” thought Ellie. “Mama Mary wanted me to find about the contest, she even winked at me when she was discussing it, but why? Does she actually think that I, a servant would be able to win? And if I did, would Madame Selena allow me to actually attend the ball?”

Ellie’s mind swarmed with the possibilities. An actual ball, perhaps an actual ball gown, and best of all maybe there would even be an actual prince! Ellie went straight to Madame Selena’s study and lightly tapped on the door.

“It’s me, Ellie. I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time your grace?” Madame always liked it when you made her feel like she was some kind of saint. It made her feel important.

“Hurry please, I am very busy writing rules for a contest that I am holding.”

“Your Grace, I was wondering if I could have a set of those rules when you are finished.” Ellie spoke timidly, with her head down and her amber colored eyes pointed steadfastly toward the floor.

“You want a set of rules??? You must be joking! Servants can’t write poetry! Your poem wouldn’t be up to snuff by the judge panel’s standards, and I know that because I am the only judge.” Madame Selena pulled her glasses down to the very tip of her nose and peered down at Ellie. “Is there anything else?”

Ellie excused herself and headed back to the kitchen. When she entered the doorway she flung herself into Mama Mary’s arms and cried for the lost opportunity. She wanted to write that poem, and she knew somehow that if she could write the poem, she could win the contest.

Mama Mary held Ellie as she cried but never said a word. Ellie even wondered if Mama Mary knew why she was crying, but for some reason Ellie felt sure that she understood.

Around midnight , Ellie walked up the long, dark stairway that led to her room. She was later than usual getting to bed because of all the extra chores she was assigned to do as punishment. As she reached the door to her quarters without even turning on her dim little light, she flung off her shoes and dove onto the bed face first. Her dreams that night were filled with poetry, poems about the autumn leaves and restful sleep; poetry about the ball and even a funny little poem about Madame Selena.

As usual, when Ellie woke up she didn’t open her eyes at first. She imagined to herself what could be different. However, the dreams didn’t last long for the smell of liver pudding and scrambled eggs soon took control of her senses. She felt as if she might scream.

Surprisingly, as Ellie opened her eyes something in her little room had changed. Ellie looked hard at the usually blank wall and stared. Something was there. A small piece of paper with beautifully written words was nailed to her wall. From what Ellie could tell, the top line of the page read: RULES.

“Lord child, you seem like you are running a race today!” Mama Mary Elaine said laughingly to Ellie. “What’s your hurry?”

“Someone put the poetry contest rules on my wall last night Mary. I have to finish so I can write a poem for the contest!”

Mama Mary smiled, “Who on earth would have risked doing a thing like that I wonder?” “Don’t you dare let on who it is writing the poem Ellie. Let it be a surprise when you win.”

Ellie knew that Mary was right. Madame Selena could not know that she was going to enter a poem.

Ellie worked on her poem all night long, writing and revising, scribbling and erasing. As the sun was just peaking over the huge wood that surrounded the manner Ellie put down her pen and read her finished poem one last time before sealing it away in a small white envelope.

Fall seemed to collapse into winter during the weeks that Ellie waited to hear who had won the writing contest. Her work seemed ten times more tedious than ever before, and Ellie seemed make more mistakes than ever. Somehow all of her chores seemed to magically be done on time, even when Ellie didn’t remember actually finishing them at all.

For example, when Madame Selena ordered Ellie to mend her ball gown, Ellie had not actually finished the dress. She had begun sowing and lost interest after the first two stitches. After taking a long break, without Madame Selena’s knowledge of course, she returned to finish the dress and it was already mended and hanging in Madame’s wardrobe. Unusual happenings such as this had taken place all month as Ellie whole-heartedly waited to find out who had won the contest.

Ellie wondered into the kitchen as if she were in a daze. Weeks of waiting had finally taken its toll on Ella’s nerves. Her eyes looked tired and her skin had turned from its usual shade of olive to a pale white.

“Have you heard that Madame has picked a winner in the poetry contest?” Mama Mary asked cautiously.

“Oh?” Ella pried, trying not to sound excited, afraid of what she might hear. She was afraid of finding out now after waiting all these weeks. She was afraid of being disappointed if it happened that she had not won. However at the same time, she was also a little afraid of what might happen if by some chance she had won. “So who got it?” Ella asked trying not to sound too desperate.

“Well, no one really knows. It is quite strange actually. No one seems to know who wrote the poem. The author was anonymous. It was the only poem entered without a name on it.”

Ellie looked down to the floor, her eyes focused on one loose, blue tile in the center of the room. She was scared to look up at Mama Mary Elaine. “What do you supposed a person would do if they had written the anonymous poem, Mama? Just wondering hypothetically, that is.”

Mama Mary Elaine smiled, “Well, the Madame said that the only person who has seen the poem is her and the one who wrote it. I guess if the anonymous author could prove to the Madame that she, I mean she or he, had written the poem, then Madame would have to proclaim them the winner.”

“That makes sense,” exclaimed Ellie as she turned the corner to leave the kitchen.

Walking down the long corridor to Madame Selena's office, Ellie was more frightened than she had ever been before. Ellie could feel her heart beat in almost every part of her body; her heart raced like a rabbit inside her chest, through her arms, and even in the very bottom of her feet.

Ellie knocked softly on Madame Selena's door, almost as if she was hoping that she wouldn't actually be heard at all.

"It's Ellie, Madame. I have come about the writing contest," Ellie managed to find the courage to speak.

"I heard that you have picked a winner and yet you don't know quite know who that winner is," Ellie spoke softly but not timidly. Her eyes were looking directly into Madame Selena's. I thought that maybe I could help you."

"You help me?" Madame Selena asked, not trying very hard to hold back the laughter. "I hardly see how you, my little servant girl, could be of any help to me."

And then Ellie began. She spoke slowly and to the point, reciting every line from her poem by heart. Her words were eloquent and sincere.

The rest of the story, well it's history. Of course Madame Selena was filled with anger, not knowing whether to admit that Ellie was the winner or to throw the winning poem out the window. However, there was such huge publicity about a servant girl turned poet that Madame Selena could not miss her 15 minutes of fame. Lucky however, Ellie's fame lasted a bit longer than Madame Selena's did. By the time she arrived at the castle news had spread far and wide about her poetry, even to the royal prince. He found Ellie at once and proudly asked her to be the royal poet laureate.

Now this is strictly hear say, but I have heard that the "single, handsome" prince absolutely adores poets. Perhaps there will be more than poetry in Ellie's future:)