Showing posts with label Cracked Glass Slipper. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cracked Glass Slipper. Show all posts

Wednesday 17 August 2016

Cracked Glass Slipper: Cinderella Part 2

Missed Part 1? Check it out here.

Alright, my nerdlets, after some escaping from nuns, I have finally found time to finish part 2 of this (slightly cracked) fairy-tale re-telling.

I have no idea whether it's any good - I do know that it's random, because let's face it, I'm a random kind of gal ;)

Hopefully I've restrained myself with the everything italics! problem I had in the first part. (Sometimes I like to stress things... a lot...)

(Some mild swearing and references to the sexy times.)

Without further faffing then, here is Part 2 of Cinderella:


“No. Don't”

“I didn't say anything.”

“You were going to,” Sin snarled.

Tom paused, “...Wouldn't you? You're dressed like a chubby six-year-old's idea of womanhood.”

Sin gave him a death-glare and crossed her arms over her poofy-dress clad chest. She stalked into Tom's front room, cursing that little old lady with every step. She looked like she'd just stepped off the stage after a freaking panto; urgh!

Everyone stared, of course. And Sin pretended she hadn't noticed. Because she clearly didn't care what these losers thought. Of course not.

Yeah, she definitely stood out in this crowd of nearly-naked half-drunk folk bopping (because that really couldn't be called dancing, could it?) along to some repetitive dance track that was doubtless one of Tom's faves. People filled pretty much every corner of his cellar-space. (Tom liked to have parties in the cellar. Apparently it made him look cool.)

She parked her satin (or was it silk? It could be freaking fairy-dust for all she knew,) -wrapped butt on a bar-stool propped against the corner. Tom thought bar-stools were classy. Seriously; he was officially a douche. Why had she ever thought that this relationship would work? Stupid move. Stupid, stupid, move.

She stayed there for a while, hoping people would confuse her with a large and very realistic doll – one of those creepy things lonely old men dress up and take to the supermarket in documentaries about kooky lifestyles (not that she was judging – it's just those dolls gave her the creeps,) …or maybe she'd just blend in to the wallpaper pattern. There was low-lighting in here, and she liked to look on the positive side. Occasionally.

Tom ignored her, in favour of 'dancing' with every other girl in the room. Dancing… doing everything but make a baby with… same diff as far as Tom was concerned.

Maybe he was trying to make her jealous. She actually didn't care. It was when he started dancing with Terri, whispering in Terri's ear, that she got up to get a drink. And if there was a little more vodka in her vodka-and-coke than she'd normally put there, then it was because of the whole scary-magic-grandma thing, and nothing to do with Tom's lips so close to Terri's skin. Nothing at all.

She was having a bad day. She had Rumpelstiltskin's elderly aunt to contend with, after all. Magic witchy ladies messing with her love life – pretty much anyone'd need a drink.



“Hey Terri,” and Sin managed an actual, genuine, smile.

Maybe the vodka helped. Maybe it's just that it was Terri, and she wasn't dancing with Tom any more. (Ok, so maybe Sin cared a little about how close they'd been dancing. Just a little. Barely any amount, really.)

“What the hell is up with the dress?” Terri's fingers plucked good-naturedly at the ruffles.

“That's a very good question,” Sin nodded mock-sagely, “and I'm damned if I know; I'm at this party against my will, in case you were wondering.”

“Yeah… Tom told me about...” she waved her hand vaguely in a swirly motion, indicating the mess that was Sin-and-Tom.

Sin had actually meant crazy-grandma-scary-magic-lady, but that was a whole other train wreck/possible hallucinatory episode brought on by a combination of stress and exhaustion; so she let Terri think it was Tom drama. Because, hell, Tom drama took up a lot of her general drama quota anyway.

“So the dress is a form of protest? A statement about what you think of Tom?” there was a gleam to Terri's dark eyes that let Sin know that this wasn't a criticism, “Because if it's a message… it's not a clear one.”

“Ahhh, it's obviously to let me know she needs to be treated like a princess!” Tom interrupted, swinging an arm casually around Terri's shoulders.

“Which you suck at,” Terri snapped, pushing his arm away, “because you're a douche.”

Sin grinned, and then tried to hide hide her smile behind a hand. Tom didn't have an answer.

Terri was right, of course, but Tom clearly had expected Terri to just go right on ahead with all his Prince Charming crap, and just deal with it. But it turned out Terri had claws. Good on her.

“Jeez Terr,” Tom shrugged, “no need to be so sensitive.”

“Cut the crap, Tom,” Terri replied, “All you've been doing all night is trying to get in people's pants and make Sin jealous. Why she keeps coming back to you, I'll never know.”

“Did you get your period or something?”

“No, I'm just angry at you, moron. You treat Sin like she's worthless, and I'm just sick of you trying to be a macho-guy, or a cool-guy, or whatever the hell it is that you think you're doing when you treat people like trash! Call me when you're back to being you, Tom,” she flung her bag over her shoulder like a soap-opera-diva, “Coming with, Sin?”

“Uh… yeah, ok.” And, slightly gob-smacked, she followed Terri out.


Somewhere along the way, Tom'd become the kind of guy who gets his kicks out of breaking a girl's heart. It was like he wasn't the kid she'd known since they were ten. It was like underneath it all he'd become cruel – icy.

Only most people didn't see the ice. They saw Prince Charming. They saw the smile, the nice house, the good job, the handsome face, the success at such a young age when everyone else was barely scraping by. They saw the man who was truly flattering when he noticed how pretty you looked, and who could plead with you for something he wanted until you wondered why you were denying him in the first place.

These people didn't see Sin's face when he did everything but have sex with other girls right in front of her – when he was whispering stupid stuff in Terri's ear and getting way too close for comfort.

It was Terri who noticed Sin sitting in the corner in that ridiculous dress (did Tom make her wear it? He'd manipulated her into coming to this party, so Terri wouldn't put it passed him. Maybe he told her it was fancy dress and he had the perfect outfit… what a jerk.)

Maybe it was the dress that made Terri finally snap, maybe it was that destroyed look on Sin's face… maybe it was the fact that Terri knew all about every single one of the times Tom'd pressured Sin into going out somewhere, only to cancel at the last minute, or told her her clothes sucked in front of other people, or told her she was needy or…

Whatever it was, Terri'd finally had just about enough of what Tom was putting Sin – beautiful, funny, strong, smart, Sin – through. And the way he bragged about it – to Terri herself, of all people (did he know she'd had a crush on Sin, once upon a time? Probably. It was just the kind of cruel game he'd play) – it kind of made her want to punch the smile off his face.

Honestly, why had she waited this long to do something about it? Same reason Sin didn't just tell him off, she guessed (Sin would tell anyone else off, after all,) - Tom was a master at making you think it was your fault. He enjoyed messing with people – at least, that was what Terri'd ended up believing; he messed with you, turned you inside out, then acted like it was all your fault.

Sin stopped walking. And kind of stared at an empty parking space just down the street from Tom's.

“Sin…?” Terri asked, “What are you…?”

“Nothing,” Sin laughed, “there's nothing there!”

“Well, that's not true,” Terri corrected, moving forward to get a better look at the spot, “There's a… is that a pumpkin? What the hell?!”

Sin sat down on the kerb, heavily, and laughed with tears in her eyes.

What do you think? Please sugar-coat criticism ;D

Monday 13 June 2016

The Writer Diaries (Or, I Try To Come Up With Excuses)

OK, what excuses can I possibly have for not writing more of my 'Cracked Glass Slipper: Cinderella' instalments?

(Just as a reminder: I had this brainwave a few months ago, that I was going to write crack-fic-style fairy-tale retellings, starting with Cinderella.

And I did actually start with the first part of Cinderella! It just... didn't actually go further than that.)

Well, it could be that I was kidnapped by a herd of travelling nuns, who forbade me from writing random retellings on pain of having to clean the loos.

Or I may have been blackmailed never to write about Sin again by Time Masters/Lords (dependent on your geek-ly preferences) and threatened every time I try to open the word document (or, y'know, start a document for part 2... oops!)

Or I may've decided to become a guru in the art of spoon-bending, and left for an exciting new life!

Or it could just be that I got distracted by shiny things, self-doubt, and life-stuff, and forgot all about it...

I'm sorry!

I do fully intend to keep going! It just may take a little longer than I originally thought it would...

But in the mean-time, you can remind yourself of part one here. :)

Wednesday 9 March 2016

Cracked Glass Slipper: Cinderella Part 1

Already read Part 1? Check out Part 2 here

This could go great, this could go terribly... but for better or worse, this is the first part of my 'Cracked Glass Slipper' posts.

So, here it is, part 1 of Cinderella. I hope I manage to make you laugh (or at least chuckle, please?)

Cinderella, Part 1

girl blonde

"Whoah, whoah, whoah! You have got to be kidding me."
The old woman didn't answer. Just smiled genially... like she was Julie Andrews or something. Sin hoped that she wouldn't start singing – that was the last thing she needed.
"Seriously – who spiked my drink?" Sin's head was spinning; this was not normal.

Because that sports car? Right next to where they stood on the kerb? In front of her modest front door? - It hadn't been there a minute ago. It had been a pumpkin – an honest-to-God, ever-loving, pumpkin!

Who the hell makes luxury vehicles out of vegetables?!

"Am I having a breakdown? Or a stroke? A psychotic episode? Is that what this is?"

The old lady shrugged, "Possibly. I'm not judging. You taking the car or not?"


The woman looked genuinely confused, "No?"

"Ten minutes ago that thing was a prototype Jack-o-Lantern; I doubt it's gonna be up to safety regs. Or, you know, the laws of physics... and reality, and stuff."

"Oh," she looked kind of pensive, "no-one's ever made that point before."

"Well, what do people normally do? Just take the car?!?" Sin's face twisted in disbelief.

"Well... yes. Of course in the old days it was a carriage, but, yes – they always take the car," if anything, the old lady was starting to look a little offended.

Sin didn't know how to respond. This whole thing was just... there weren't words. Not repeatable ones anyway.

"Look, dear," the woman said, and the innocent-little-old-lady act was getting old fast, as far as Sin was concerned, "you have to get to that boy's house! And the best way to do that is to take this car – after we've got you some appropriate clothing, of course."

"And why do I have to go to Tom's house? And how do you even know about Tom?" Sin crossed her arms, tapping her foot impatiently: she wanted answers – now.

Ah, the day had started so well. True, she'd found Effie drooling on the sofa, again. And Abbie had taken her car without permission, again. But, you know, that was normal. Expected, even.

Abbie was always taking her car. Effie was always crashing on the sofa after one too many vodka shots. Just the hazards of sharing a flat with your step-sisters. Simple as. Especially with Effie still in uni... student life and all that.

And of course she loved them... they just drove her completely around the bend. They wouldn't bug her so much if she didn't love them, after all. That's just the way it goes with family sometimes.

True, she'd had to clean up the cereal massacre someone (Abbie? Probably Abbie.) had left in the kitchen. Then she'd had to make way for Effie's hungover sprint to the bathroom and ask the usual 'Are you ok?' style questions while pretending that she couldn't hear the icky noises her sis was making (yuck, yuck, double-yuck!) But hell, it was Saturday, and Sin honestly didn't care about anything beyond lazing around in her PJ's. Nope, no dark clouds – not today!
woman wearing rings


"It's how it's supposed to go!" man, little-old-lady was pissed; and she still hadn't answered Sin's questions.

Sin wasn't really a 'supposed' to kind of girl. Call it a flaw. Call it a strength. She didn't really care.

"Bite me," she snapped, and turned to go back into the flat; she was done with this.

The old chick grabbed her arm. Hard. Sheesh, was grandma on 'roids?

Sin turned back to glare at her... and stopped. Her heart fluttered. Oh man, she must've drunk something really bad. Because no way was this real.

The old woman was... crackling. No other word sprang to mind (to be fair, her mind was a bit occupied right now.) The old lady's white hair stood on end, flying out behind her. Her eyes were angry. Sparks flew around her – actual, honest-to-God, sparks – green and blue and purple.

"Holy crap!" Ok, not the most eloquent thing Sin could've said – but give her a break, it was kind of a unique situation.

"Sorry girl," the old woman snarled, "we're on a deadline... Bloody millenials"

When the first text had come through, Sin had been happily tucking into toast on the sofa. She didn't answer. The second text came ten minutes later. She didn't answer that one either. Nor did she answer the phonecall that came twenty minutes after that.

She was completely sure that her care-free, dark-cloud-less-Saturday, did not involve a conversation with Tom.

Nope. Not going there. Nope. Not going to answer the phone Tom, no matter how many times you call.

She answered the fifth time he called. The conversation went pretty much as she expected – much swearing (her,) some begging (him,) and an invitation to the birthday bash he was having tonight. She told him she'd rather stick her head in a blender. He asked her to give it a shot. She said she'd think about it. They hung up.

Pretty much how all their conversations seemed to go lately.

"Am I in a dress?"

"Well, how else would you go to the party?"

"I look like a six-year-old's princess fantasy threw up on me."

The old woman shook her head, "Some people are just impossible to please."
What do you think? (Please couch criticism in politeness and courtesy - I bruise easily.)

Saturday 27 February 2016

The Writer Diaries - Introducing Cracked Glass Slipper Posts: Coming Soon

Since I'm aiming to write this year - and write a lot - I figure it's OK to put some of my wackier ideas down on paper (or... y'know, screen,) for all to (hopefully) laugh at.

So I came up with the idea of 'Cracked Glass Slipper' posts.

Let me explain:

I've been toying for a while with the idea of retelling fairy tales in my own way - basically, as if I'm writing crack fanfiction. Only, this will be suitable for under 18s, unlike most crack fiction.

woman silhouette

I'm under no illusions - this may go horrifically wrong pretty damn quickly. In which case I'll abandon it and pretend that it never happened *nods, smiles, laughs nervously.*

At the moment, what I have is random at best - it's demented, to be honest. I worry about myself sometimes.

And I have no idea whether it's any good - but then, I suppose I'll never know unless I share it with you all.

I apologise in advance if I scar you all for life. (It's a possibility at this point.)

Each story will be about made up of multiple parts (I think - not an awful lot of organisation happens in my head, so I'm not all that sure yet.) So each one will be serialised on Diary of a Reading Addict over several weeks/months (dependant on how long they are, and how quickly I write them.)

Hopefully this will be fun - and hopefully you'll all come along for the ride.

I'll be starting with Cinderella soon...

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