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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:
“I didn't say
“You were going
to,” Sin snarled.
“...Wouldn't you? You're dressed like a chubby six-year-old's idea
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.
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.)
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Terri,” and Sin managed an actual, genuine, smile.
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.)
the hell is up with the dress?” Terri's fingers plucked
good-naturedly at the ruffles.
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
Tom told me about...” she waved her hand vaguely in a swirly
motion, indicating the mess that was Sin-and-Tom.
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.
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
it's obviously to let me know she needs to be treated like a
princess!” Tom interrupted, swinging an arm casually around Terri's
you suck at,” Terri snapped, pushing his arm away, “because
you're a douche.”
grinned, and then tried to hide hide her smile behind a hand. Tom
didn't have an answer.
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.
Terr,” Tom shrugged, “no need to be so sensitive.”
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.”
you get your period or something?”
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
yeah, ok.” And, slightly gob-smacked, she followed Terri out.
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
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
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.
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.)
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
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.
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.
stopped walking. And kind of stared at an empty parking space just
down the street from Tom's.
Terri asked, “What are you…?”
Sin laughed, “there's nothing there!”
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?!”
sat down on the kerb, heavily, and laughed with tears in her eyes.
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 do fully intend to keep going! It just may take a little longer than I originally thought it would...
So, here it is, part 1 of Cinderella. I hope I manage to make you laugh (or at least chuckle, please?)
Cinderella, Part 1
whoah, whoah! You have got
to be kidding me."
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.
– who spiked my drink?" Sin's head was spinning; this was not
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?!
I having a breakdown? Or a stroke? A psychotic episode? Is that
what this is?"
lady shrugged, "Possibly. I'm not judging. You taking the car or
woman looked genuinely confused, "No?"
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."
she looked kind of pensive, "no-one's ever made that point
what do people normally
do? Just take the
face twisted in disbelief.
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.
didn't know how to respond. This whole thing was just... there
weren't words. Not repeatable ones anyway.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
how it's supposed to go!" man, little-old-lady was
pissed; and she still hadn't answered Sin's questions.
wasn't really a 'supposed' to kind of girl. Call it a flaw. Call it a
strength. She didn't really care.
me," she snapped, and turned to go back into the flat; she was
done with this.
chick grabbed her arm. Hard. Sheesh, was grandma on 'roids?
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.
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.
crap!" Ok, not the most eloquent thing Sin could've said – but
give her a break, it was kind of a unique situation.
girl," the old woman snarled, "we're on a deadline...
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.
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
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.
much how all their conversations seemed to go lately.
I in a dress?"
how else would you go to the party?"
look like a six-year-old's princess fantasy threw up on me."
woman shook her head, "Some people are just impossible to
What do you think? (Please couch criticism in politeness and courtesy - I bruise easily.)
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.
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.