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

"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?"

"Well...no!"

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!

***

"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.)

Read on! See Part 2 here >