Paper prototypes, contd.
Paper prototypes, contd.
Today’s Prompt is:
Fairy tales have happy endings. All of us know what happened in that mushy fairy tale, Cinderella. Yeah, it’s romantic, the prince actually finding Cinderella. They lived happily ever after. But happy endings can be, well…boring. No zing. So predictable. So…happy. What if the shoe fit one of the sisters? What happens then? Play with your imagination here. Be funny if you like. Or serious if you feel like it. Or be an Alfred Hitchcock. Whatever you are into, write your own 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? Start your story here.
I watched with horror as the doubtful look on my prince’s face melted away into a lovesick, enchanted expression. My beautiful slipper was gracing the foot of my elder, uglier sister by marriage. The prince—for no longer was he my prince—was holding her puffy-fingered hand and laying soft kiss after soft kiss upon it. At the first squeak from my quickly closing throat, my horrid stepmother lanced a look my way that would spoil fruit. My mouth withered and I melted into the background, finally bumping against the doorway and turning tail, running up the rickety backstairs, accompanied by the grand exclamations of love the prince was gushing forth from his tender mouth. When I reached my musty room I threw myself onto the moth-eaten bed kicking and sobbing. It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair at all! As the dust cleared my sobs became more and more half-hearted until I was reduced to just feeling miserable and sorry for myself. I looked up and in the corner sat my Fairy Godmother who had tended my fragile dreams.
“Fairy Godmother, it just isn’t fair! It’s my slipper, but even if I get the chance to say anything, no one will ever believe me. Surely you can fix it? Oh, Fairy Godmother, please fix everything!”
My Fairy Godmother looked slightly confused and bleary-eyed, as if she had just woken up.
“Daughter, you mustn’t hic worry,” she said. “Everything happens for a hic reason and Karma’s a HIC bitch. In time, all will hic be revealed, and the hic balance with be hic restored.”
I stared at the Fairy in disbelief. Fairies were supposed to make things better, and here was mine, sitting on the rotting wood of an old dresser I stole from the trash heap, hiccupping and smiling like a drunken idiot.
So that’s where I was, laying on a moldy blanket on a moldy bed in a moldy room in a grand mansion, watching my only hope get sick in the corner. I can’t say I leave any regrets behind me—the prince was too stupid to even recognize my face, and I certainly don’t need to turn around for a last look at my prison. The last memory I have of my previous life is a moldy handkerchief tied into sack containing an apron and my mother’s locket. I’m off to seek my fortune, whatever and wherever it may be.