Join Date: May 2005
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To start off I've just recently gotten an english assignment to rewrite a fairytale. Any one that I wanted, so I chose Cinderella. While I am still in the process of writing it, I am picking up rewriting other fairytales to my liking, so trust me there will be alot more on their ways.
For Cinderella I used RabidAngel77's wonderful idea of fastforwarding and rewinding, so those parts may sound a little like theirs, but that wasn't intentional. I was thinking of their story while writing this and what do you know the idea of their story managed to work the FF and Rewinding into my story! So cheers RabidAngel77 for your wonderful writing!
This is just a teaser of what I have so far (basically all I have so far) and it will be updated when more is written, but for now PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! I want to get an A on this assignment and I need to know what other people think about it before I turn it in.
Inside The Heart of Cinderella
I grasp to catch my breath, as I am running, running away from somebody I may actually love. My heart is thudding making me remember what I had and I was now leaving. Months ago I would have never guessed that this would have happened to me…the poor measly girl that once had a childhood that would scar her for life.
In the midst of running I paid no attention to where I was going and toppled over something lying on the ground. My body seemed to fall in slow motion, making me feel that I would be safe. That’s when I heard a loud THUNK as my head crashed against a sharp rock. I screamed in agony, fear, and disappointment of what I have made of my life.
Let me rewind back fifteen years when I was six years old and life seemed like it couldn’t get any better.
Father, Mother, and I seemed to be one of the most perfect families you have ever seen. Everyday was a new adventure for all of us and it was something that I never wanted to forget. No matter what everything that goes up must someday come down.
It was mid-March when we got the news of mother’s illness. The doctor couldn’t say much about her condition, but all he mumbled to daddy was “I’m sorry Mr. Cooper, but there isn’t much we can do for your wife, she’ll be passing away soon.” I remember the tone in daddy’s voice after he heard that, he sounded strong, but when his voice quivered it sounded like he was choking back tears and acted as if he was going to break down and beg the doctor to find a cure. Daddy never asked, he kept his mouth shut, and Mommy never healed again.
When she passed away that summer, I never looked at families the way I did before, again. Whenever I saw a mother with her children and their shrilling bursts of laughter from something their mother was doing, I planted my head towards the ground while soft gentle tears rolled down my cheeks.
“STOP IT!” I would always scream silently to myself as if it were a personal battle “Be strong for daddy, now that he’s lost mommy he needs me!” Sometimes when the crying got out of control I would push myself to stop, by conflicting pain upon myself. I knew I could never love someone the way I loved my mommy again.
Fast forward 3 more years when I was nine; over the years since the loss of my mother, father and I seemed to bond more, constantly sharing our favorite memories of mom, trying to fix the connection between us that was somehow broken in my early childhood. I felt that now I was the only girl in my father’s life and with him he can bring mothers memory back to life, perhaps finally we could be one happy family again.
That’s when ‘she’ stepped in. The so called ‘Step-Mother’, I remember that cold grin that crept across her face when I first met her. I remember imagining her wrapping her sausage-like fingers around my tiny neck and shaking the life out of me.
The only problem was, was that father seemed to be in awe of her, as if she was some sort of mystical creature from one of my story books. I on the other hand could see through her and see that she only wanted my father (MY DADDY!) for his fortune, other then that she had him wrapped around her pinky finger. The moment she received his love, was the moment I lost everything I called my “fairytale life.”
Along with my step-mother came two new additions to my family; the twins, my step-brothers. I thought that they would be at least a tad bit better then her, but I guess all their years with her, she some how managed to brainwash them into ‘mini-hers’. My world was closing in, I lost my mother and now my father was slowly slipping away from my grip.
Every night after they got married I would manage to let all my frustrations out by crying and writing in this old diary. As the pain grew so did my writing skills.
Inside I was unstoppable, but on the outside I was a pushover, anybody could control me with a simple snap of their fingers. I guess that’s where step-mother got the idea that she could somehow make me her slave. But I had my ways to push her away and make sure she didn’t get her grimy fingers on any of me, unfortunately it didn’t work all the time.
My only real clutch on what I called life was my writing. I knew that it wouldn’t help me change things, but I did know that it was one way to express my pain and fury.
Now let’s jump ahead four more years to when I was just turning into a teenager. The years that my step-mother had spent with my father completely changed him. He himself was now treating me like I was nothing but dirt. The father that I used to love was long gone now; his smile wrinkles had turned into those of frowns. All the great memories we had together had turned into memories of all the horrid memories we now shared. I couldn’t count on anything; the only thing I could count on was my writing.
When I wasn’t slaving around the house, I somehow managed to teach myself to play my father’s old guitar. The only way I knew how to play was, from the memories of him playing me to sleep when I was younger. I knew that father would never pick up this old guitar ever again; the only thing he would pick up anymore was a can of beer while he sat on the couch and watched sports. I hoped that someday my real father would come back out of the trance he was placed in years ago, but the hope was small, for I knew it was never going to happen.
Some nights after taking orders and pain from step-mother I would lay on my bed and think of new things to write. Once something was written I would try and turn it into a song, most of the time the songs were about my dreams of my father becoming my daddy again. To my amazement my voice actually wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be, but the only one to hear the melody of my broken heart was my stuffed animals and the old picture of my mommy sitting on my bedside table.
When I turned sixteen my father was finally reunited with my mother; leaving me with the step-mother. His funeral wasn’t like my mothers, there was just something holding me from crying. I stood there looking down at the box the hearse had just carried in and sighed. The weather seemed to match the mood of the day, cold. It was the middle of autumn and the colors of the vibrant leaves made me think of the happier times that were now just memories. Upon walking away from my father’s grave that laid just next to my mothers, a tear slid across my face. I whispered under my breath “daddy I promise I’ll stay strong since I just lost you, I’m all that I have.” And I slowly walked off with my head facing the ground in which my parents were in their final resting place.
Things didn’t get better after father passed. Step-mother treated me worse, making me do more stuff. Her frustrations were laid out on me, and everyday she let me know that I was lucky to be living in “her” house, and lucky that she gave me a place to stay. All I could do was write my pain away. I knew that nobody would question me about the marks on my body made by step-mother, because I hid them, I hid them so well that I decided to seclude myself and stay alone.
Every day was a struggle, I wished that my 18th birthday would come fast, so I could finally live a normal life again, but everyday seemed to take years to get over. The only thing that was different was the fact that my step-brothers treated me better and every now and then would try and help me with the work that needed to be done. Still the only things I could depend on were my self and my music.
Unfortunately like everything good in my life, my music was taken away from me. When the step-mother discovered that I had been singing and writing instead of doing my work, she tore all my years of songs up into tiny shreds of paper. I watched the paper slowly fall to the ground and wished the most terrible thing in the world would happen to her. I knew from that day on what I wanted to do with my life and nobody was going to stop me, I was going to be a singer, I wanted to show step-mother that she couldn’t take this one thing permanently away from me.
Secretly whenever step-mother wasn’t paying attention, I would sneak into the shed in the back yard and continue with my songwriting and singing. I was becoming stronger and step-mother couldn’t step in my way anymore.
My 18th birthday couldn’t come any later. The second it came, I immediately moved out of my child hood house only bringing my songs and my father’s old guitar, and moved in with the old woman down the street. Over the years she was the only one who managed to make me smile, even when I knew that I had nobody left in the world to care about me. Weeks before I turned 18 she offered to let me move in and before she could finish the question I accepted the deal.
Living with Miss. Paul was the first time I actually felt alive in a long time. Everyday we would manage to make a batch of cookies and take a stroll in the park. In some way she made my life more magical then it had ever been before.
When she discovered my knack for singing she gave me the surprise of my life. Little did I know that her grandson was the producer for a huge recording studio. She told him about my talent and had him set up a session with me as soon as possible. When I first entered the studio I was frightened of making any sort of mistake, but after awhile I got comfortable. I was yet to meet Miss. Paul’s grandson, but I didn’t care, the only thing I was concentrated on at the time was the fact that I might be able to make my dream come true.
It took me about 4 months to finally finish one CD. It was titled “Inside the heart of Cinderella” explaining the pain I went through loosing my mother and father and gaining the most wicked woman in the world as my stepmother. Most of the songs were remakes of the songs I wrote when I was younger to my mother after she passed away. Now the only hope left in my heart was that I could prove stepmother wrong and finally do something right in my life.
That's when It happened that’s when I fell head over heals for a man I should have never of fallen for. I remember the day perfectly; it was the day I was supposed to first meet the man who was going to make me famous, Miss. Paul’s grandson. I took all morning preparing myself for good news. That morning I spent hours combing my perfect almond colored hair, in hopes that I could make a great first impression. I entered the studio around 11 A.M ready to get news about my CD, but when my eyes first glanced into Zack’s I knew that I would savor every single word he said, for I finally felt the feeling of butterflies awakened inside my stomach.
When I was around him, I would manage to stumble around my words, making no sense. My mind told me that he was way out of my league, but my heart told me to keep trying. So one after noon, I casually invited him to his grandmother’s house and decided that I would tell him honestly, how I felt about him. The day he came over, the first thing he asked was to see the guitar of my fathers that I was always talking about, so I proudly showed him the only hold able memory of my father I had left. Zack carefully studied every angle of it and with a warm smile handed it back. That’s when it happened; he slid next to me on the couch and told me his true feelings for me. I my heart was beating against my rib cage when I heard the news. I couldn’t believe what he was saying; I knew that this was the start of something amazing.
I was surprised when he didn’t immediately ask me on a date, but I was fine with it, everybody has their reasons for things. After waiting awhile I knew that I was going to have to ask him out my self, so I invited myself over to his house one day as a surprise. Instead of coming out directly with words I brought my fathers guitar and I was going to sing it to him in a song. To my udder shock when I peeked through the window, I saw him mingling with my stepmother and instantaneously dropped my guitar with disappointment and ran, ran away from all the painful memories she conflicted upon me years ago.
Therefore, here now I lay body sprawled on the ground, wondering what I did wrong and why she of all people was talking to Zack. I can feel a wet spot on the side of my face and I know that its blood spilling out of the wound the rock imprinted on my head. I just laid there and stared up at the sky wishing for an answer, and that’s when I heard Miss. Paul’s worried voice screaming towards me. I had no idea that I was that close to home, it did not feel like I had been running for that long, but then again who can really think with blood seeping out of their head and memories constantly flashing in and out.
Miss. Paul came to my side, and as I looked up at her warm comforting smile, everything faded to blackness. When I awoke, I was laying in the bedroom
Miss. Paul had given me. Everything was blurry and when somebody spoke, it sounded like, their voices were distant and I could barely understand what was being said. Suddenly I hear Zack's calming voice and turn to the direction where I heard it. The image of his face is nothing but mashed together lines making it hard to make out the details of his face. Then he softly spoke to me.
“I’m so sorry about what’s going on. Your stepmother and I were discussing how she felt terrible about the way she treated you after you lost your family. That’s when we saw your face glance through the window, I knew that there wasn’t going to be any good from you seeing that, so I ended the conversation and tried to catch you. You were clear out of sight before I get to the door, but when I looked down at my porch, I noticed your father’s guitar, and I knew I had to return it to you no matter what it took.” Zack took a deep breath in. “I want to tell you th-“before he could finish everything turned to black.
I slowly opened my eyes to a blinding white light. I knew where I was and I felt happy inside. In the distance, I can see the silhouette of my parent’s bodies even though they didn’t open their mouths I heard them speak one last time.
“Baby girl, we are so proud of you.” My mother’s voice seemed to sound heavenly. “But now is not your time to join us” she continued. Just as I was about to say something everything snapped back to me lying in Miss. Paul’s house. I burst into tears; not tears of sadness, but tears of happiness, I made my parents proud. Zack came, wrapped his arms around me, and whispered into my ear “I really like you, would you mind joining me for a date.” Amongst my crying, I managed to choke out “YES!”
From that day on Zack and I have been inseparable and are now arranged to be married in May. If I were to die today I would die one of the happiest people in the world, I would die knowing that I found my prince charming, my fairy godmother that made it all happen, and I made my parents proud of the decisions I have made in my life.
Therefore, that’s how my “fairytale” like life has brought me to this happy conclusion.
Happily Ever after?
As if! We lived our lives the fullest, no fairytale “happily ever after” could explain the ending of my fairytale life!