The Glass Shoe Rewritten

I decided to try my hand at using a prompt again! More after the story. 

Fairy tales have happy endings. All of us know what happened in that mushy fairy tale, Cinderella. Write your ending to the Cinderella story, but this time make it so that the shoe fit one of the icky sisters. What does Prince Charming do? How does Cinderella cope with it? And what about the Fairy Godmother?

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Cinderella was not surprised when the shoe fit Tisbe. After all, there must be more than one person who would have the same sized feet. How else could shoemakers make a living? Cinderella tried to keep herself calm. This was just like everything else that has happened to her. It was one unfortunate incident after another and she would brave through it all.

Fighting back tears, Cinderella tried to smile while Tisbe lapped up the attention of being the Prince’s favourite. She hoped that perhaps the Prince would see that the girl in front of him whose foot fit into the shoe is not the girl he met the night before. But alas, it was just blind hope- the Prince immediately got on his knee and proposed to Tisbe.

‘My beautiful maiden, will you do me the honour of being my princess and wife?’ he said.

Cinderella’s heart sank. She knew that this was probably her only chance to get out of her existing life. The Prince was not only the love of her life, but also her one-way ticket out of misery. But it looks like the door had just shut before her eyes. Cinderella was crushed; it felt even worse than when she was punished by being hit repeatedly with a broomstick.

How can I live with this? Cinderella thought. Can I stop Tisbe? Can I do anything to fight for my Prince?

--

‘Cinderella, where is my dress!’ came a shout from the house.

Sighing, Cinderella moved the pot of soup from the flame and proceeded to find Tisbe’s dress. She couldn’t believe that the Prince would be getting married to her stepsister after only five months. After all, they did encounter some problems at the start. But it looks like the Prince is finally happy. Although it pained Cinderella, she knew that she had to let him go. This is the right thing to do- she wanted him to be happy.

Cinderella only just handed the wedding dress to Tisbe when she heard a knock on the door.

She rushed to open it, knowing that she would land in hot water again if she doesn’t attend to guests quickly enough. Opening the door, she found an attractive young man with a parcel smiling at her.

‘I was told that this is the residence of Tisbe, future Princess of our kingdom. Is that true?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Cinderella replied. ‘This is where Tisbe lives.’

Upon hearing it, the young man handed the package to Cinderella. ‘A gift from Her Majesty the Queen,’ he said. ‘Have a good day, miss…’

‘Cinderella’.

‘Beautiful name. Have a good day, Miss Cinderella.’ And with that, he turned to leave. But before exiting the garden he turned back one last time. ‘Name’s Oliver, by the way.’ Then he left.

Cinderella felt a weird tingling sensation in her heart. She had not felt this way since she met the Prince. For the first time in months, she felt alive again. And it was because of Oliver. From that moment on, Cinderella knew that she had been blessed with a second chance. The Fairy Godmother must still have been watching over her. This time, Cinderella knew that she mustn’t be afraid.

Acting on impulse, Cinderella ran out of the house. She ran past the beautiful garden that she had tended to, that was her only distraction from the Prince and Tisbe’s wedding. She continued into the forest that she was all too familiar with, recognising certain trees and corners where she used to play as a child and where she walked towards town.

After what seemed like forever, she spotted him.

‘Oliver!’ she yelled.

He turned back. When he set his eyes on her the biggest and most charming smile appeared on his face. Cinderella ran towards him and when she was close enough she jumped into his waiting arms.

They looked into each other’s eyes. Oliver smiled again. This time, Cinderella smiled back.

‘Will you marry me?’ he asked.

Cinderella was delighted. She knew that she had finally found her prince, and that she didn’t need to be royalty to be a princess. Oliver had not needed her to be in a beautiful dress, or in a sparkling glass shoe to love her. He had seen her as she is, in her worn out hand-me-downs and still loved her.

Suddenly, the Prince and Tisbe didn’t seem to matter anymore. The Fairy Godmother was watching over her, after all, for she wouldn’t have met Oliver if the circumstances were different. And as Oliver carried Cinderella in his arms back to town where he lived, she said a silent thanks to the Fairy Godmother before living her life with Oliver happily ever after.

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So there you go! This is actually the first time I've ever tried writing a fairy tale or a children's story. I originally tried to go for that approach and writing it as if my audience were children, but then decided to go for something in between. At the end of the day I thought that a good children's story and fairy tale carries morals, so this was my attempt at giving a lesson on morality, added with some cliches of fairy tales and hopefully, a writing style that is suited for children's writing! 

Kor (Chinese for older brother)

Hey guys! MZ here and this is my first entry. To be honest, because I've not written anything creative properly in a very long time I found this incredibly hard to write and even harder to start, though I must say I enjoyed the whole process. I initially tried using prompts like how Jerrenn did but that proved to be too difficult for me so I decided to write something completely of my choosing. It's a very simple story but I suppose it's a start. Enjoy! And comments are much appreciated!


Tiny feet approached the room and a tiny head peered in. There he was, in the dark room on the couch, pushing the buttons of his console with his thumbs and his eyes glued to the screen. BANG! BANG! BANG! blared the speakers. She had no choice. Inhale, Jen. Inhale.

Here goes nothing.

“Kor?”

“Go away or I’ll tell Mummy you talked to a stranger when you were outside”.

 “But I didn’t!!”

RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!!!!

“But she won’t know that, will she?”

“I, er, need you to help me clean my fish tank when I’m away at grandma’s place,”

“STUPID CONSOLE, WHY AREN’T YOU…!”

“I said…” “Argh, can’t you get MOM to do it?! She always does it, doesn’t she?”

“Um…she’ll be away too. You’ll be the only one at home and so you’re the only one who….”

“DIE YOU ZOMBIES! DIE!!!!!”

“IF YOU DON’T CLEAN IT MY FISH WILL DAAAIIII!!!! IN ITS SHEEEEEEET!!!”

The little feet began jumping anxiously.

“Jen, can’t you see I’m a little busy?”

 “IN!!!!”

“ITS!!!”

“SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE……..!”

“TAKE THAT YOU HORRIBLE MONSTER! AND THAT! AND…”

It was getting harder to see with the tears blinding her eyes.

“KOR!!! I SAID MY FISH WILL ….!!!”

 “And I should care because……….?”

“AHHHHH!!! YOU’RE THE WORST BROTHER EVER!”

 “And you stink! HAHA!”

The last thing Jennifer remembers of that incident was the sound of a door slammed in her face. That incident took place years ago when she was 6 and her brother, John, was 10. After the deafening door slam, everything went silent, and I mean everything. Her senses ceased to work momentarily, she was unable to move and the only thing functioning was her brain, and this left room for a quiet, powerful epiphany to form in the little girl’s mind: Did you see the way he treated you? How little he listened? How he DIDN’T listen? How can you deny the brutality of his words? I mean, come on! He's going to let your fish die in its waste!

Right there and then, she saw nothing but an invisible barrier that was built between her and her brother, him being the builder who was evidently incapable of treating her with kindness or respect, much less love. A barrier that she could do nothing about. In fact, it was just as impossible for her to do anything about it as it was for her to knock on the door in front of her or turn the door knob open even if she wanted to.

 You see, dear reader, Jennifer was born without arms.

 That is why she couldn’t clean the fish tank when she was 6. That is why she still couldn’t clean a fish tank when she was 20. That is why she couldn’t wipe away the salty frustrated tears from her eyes or the snot from her nose with a tissue paper after the shouting match like how people with arms can.

And that, my friends, is why she felt that there may have been some truth when her brother said that she stank. It was for that same reason the epiphany in her head was that her brother couldn’t, and so didn’t, love her.

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“Can you PLEEEEEEEEASE hurry up! The match is going to start any time soon! 50 bucks is at stake here, mom!” he impatiently drummed the steering wheel.

“Be patient, John! Your sister’s not decided if she wants the blue or red bag! And it’s her birthday!” Jennifer’s mom shouted just as loudly on the phone, 10 years after the fish tank argument.

“Can’t you just go on Facebook or something while waiting? We’ll look for your car in the parking lot. We’ll be done in 15 minutes! PROMISE! ” Mrs Wong then turned to her chuckling daughter and mouthed “TAKE YOUR TIME!”

 “WOMEN!” Mrs Wong heard John exclaim just before she hung up.

“Thanks mom” Jennifer smiled.

 “No problem, sweetie. You just decide which bag you want. I’m going to the toilet for a bit and if you’ve not decided by then, I suppose we could get you both bags”.

“REALLY?!”

Mrs Wong winked. “Just don’t tell your dad. It will be our little secret. Will be back soon, honey!”

Jennifer laughed. She’s 16! Finally! It sounds like SUCH a big number! She shoved both the blue and red bag into the shopping basket. It felt like it took eternity for her to be this grown up! Speaking of growing up, maybe her mom wouldn’t mind buying her one of those fountain pens…

“HEY WEIRDO!” someone hollered in her direction.

“Huh?” “What happened to your arms eh?”

“Oh, hi Alex”.

Alex was the captain of the football team of one of the high schools in the area, and yes, he was tall, dark and handsome and yes, Jennifer had a huge crush on him.

“Um, I never had arms, Alex”

“NAWH! That can’t be right! Everyone was born with arms! Come on! Show me where you hid them!” 

“Quit it, Alex,” Jennifer’s lips started to quiver.

“HEY EVERYBODY! LOOK AT THIS FREAK!!”

“Alex, stop. Please".

"Hey! Hey! Maybe you could join the circus or something! That would be sooooooooo cool!!"

Then out of nowhere, “HOW’S THIS FOR COOL, YOU LITTLE PUNK!!”

 *BAM!*

Before she knew it, Alex was on the floor writhing in pain and screaming something about his nose being broken. You should have seen his face, guys. It was bloody.

“YOU STAY OUT OF HER WAY AND YOU NEVER COME CLOSE TO HER AGAIN OR I’LL FIND YOU! YOU UNDERSTAND ME?! YOU DON’T EVER! EVER TALK TO HER LIKE THAT EVER EVER AGAIN, YOU UNDERSTAND ME??!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?! ARE YOU LISTENING!?”

Jennifer gasped.

“KOR, STOP!”

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You know how sometimes you can’t sleep because something’s on your mind? Yeah. It was 2AM and Jennifer couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking of her little epiphany when she was 6 and she couldn’t stop replaying what happened in the mall earlier that day. She had never seen John so violent and frankly it scared her a little. She got out of bed.

His room door was open.

 “Kor?”

Silence.

“Kor.”

“WHAT! I’m trying to sleep here!”

 “Thanks for….um, you know”.

 “Ee-yer! You stink! Get lost!”.

She smiled.

“Love you too, kor. Love you too”.

A Mysterious Request

Hey all! This is the first post on Five Years On! For my first entry I decided to challenge myself in two ways: Firstly, I wrote a short story, probably for the very first time. Secondly, I decided to go with fantasy, a genre that can be very tricky. I used a prompt from Writer's Digest for this one. Enjoy and please do comment!

You receive a letter at your workplace from a high school classmate, who is now in prison. “I know I’ve caused you a lot of grief,” the letter says, “but there’s something I need that only you can get for me. Don’t tell anyone about this.”

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How did she even get my work address? I thought to myself, still reeling from the shock. I didn’t need to read the rest of the letter to know what she wanted from me. There really is just one thing that we both share- a secret that should’ve followed us both to our graves.

I forced myself to continue reading anyway. I needed to know why she did this, and how she got into this mess.

“I know we agreed back then to not talk about this, but I was recently involved in a prison scuffle. I know the signs; I know what’s coming next. If I’m not careful I would probably be another casualty real soon. But you can help me, Leslie. You know how. I’m begging you, if you can find room in your heart to forgive me, then please, help me out with this.”

The first thought that came to my mind was that she must be very desperate to be asking for this. But I can’t just risk everything for her; I can’t just walk into a grave without anyone noticing me. Plus, this could definitely be another of her games, except that this one could end up very badly for me. Very, very badly.

I had to proceed very carefully then. Scout the area for a few days first before making my move. As I was planning all this it hit me. When did I even decide to help her out? After all she did to me, she deserved being in prison. I mean, what’s prison compared to a mental institution halfway across the world?

I considered my options, but found that I was too panicky to be able to think straight. I considered paying her a visit to find out what exactly is happening before deciding whether or not I wanted to lend her a helping hand. But can I risk it? If she really is in trouble then I might just land myself in hot water too.

But before I knew it, I found myself sitting in my parked car at the Keynes Cemetery in the middle of the night. I don’t know what made me do it, but I kind of acted on a whim. I was just sitting at home by myself doing the dishes when the thought of heading to the cemetery came to me, and before I knew it, I couldn’t get it out of my head.

I tried to calm myself down as I looked out the window. It looked like a calm night, and I was sure that there was nobody around, I had drove in a circle to check beforehand. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

Am I really doing this? I thought. My mind brought me back to more than a decade ago when Julie and I were the best of friends. We did everything together. Needless to say, she was the wild one and I was just mostly tagging along. While she got me into trouble a couple of times, they were all minor scuffles. Until the night we came to Keynes.

And of course, having the luck that we did, on that same night a group of people in long, red robes with a hood were conducting a ritual of sorts. At first, I thought that they were just a group of crazy people who believed that they had the power over the Earth’s elements or something like that.

Julie and I hid and stayed quiet. When they left, we went to the spot where they were standing, and found just one thing- a black box. And Julie being Julie, she took the box. We ran away after that. When we went home we opened it and found black powder inside. Not knowing what it was, I sprinkled some on Julie. She immediately went into a trance and I could tell her what to do. It was like mind control.

Realising that this wasn’t something we could fool around with anymore, we decided to bury it, and keep it only between the two of us. I was terrified that night, because I know just how powerful this thing can be and wanted nothing to do with it, whatever it is. But now, of course, Julie needed it to get herself out of trouble.

I got out of the car, trying to be as quiet as possible.

‘Finally,’ a voice said. ‘I was getting bored, Leslie.’

I was stunned. ‘Julie?’ I said.

It was her. She stepped out of the shadows. How did she get out? What is happening? I was beginning to panic. Obviously this was a trap. Julie wanted me here. But for what?

‘What do you want from me?’ I said as Julie came closer to me.

‘Oh you’ll find out soon enough,’ she replied. ‘But first we need to take care of something.’

And the last thing I remember was her blowing the black dust towards me.