A New Ending

Ella watched as the shoe slid comfortably onto Dru’s foot. Her eyes widened in shock.

“IT FITS!” Dru screamed at the top of her lungs. The coachman toppled over. Ella folded her hand over the other glass slipper, what did it matter now?  She glanced sideways at the coat closet where she and her step-sisters kept their shoes and other effects. Ella and Dru had always shared, of course Ella would get Dru’s old, worn shoes, they had the same size feet; it made sense now.

The fact that the Prince would decide who he had met at the ball last night, with a shoe, was such a daft idea. Hundreds of women in the kingdom must have the same size foot, thought Ella. She shook her head. Her stepmother looked at Ella an evil smirk playing at her lips.

The coachman, who had regained his footing, went outside and returned with the Prince. He didn’t look like Ella had remembered in her mind. His nose was pointier, and his eyes were scrunched together, too small for his wide face. Obviously, he wasn’t very intelligent either. The Prince looked at Dru, the shoe sparkling on her unmanicured toes.

“You are not the woman I met last night. I know I would recognize you right away,” He said to Dru. Ella snorted into her lap. The Prince turned and stared momentarily, but then turned back to the woman who was wearing the shoe.

She threw the shoe from her foot it conked Odile right on the head. “OUCH!” yelled her sister who had been watching with frustration. Ella stifled a giggle. The Prince turned and left the women sitting speechless.

But, Dru was not going to give up that easily. She grabbed the shoe which sat between Odile and Ella, running after the prince her curls frazzled and every which way, yelling, “IT FIT! IT FIT! IT FIT!”

Ella looked at her stepmomw who watched in horror. “COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW YOUNG LADY!” she screamed from her perch on her sitting room chair.

Ella stood up, still clutching the other shoe. “I’m leaving this abominable house. You have never treated me kindly. I don’t need you or a prince,” she looked out the door with slight distaste, “to see me for the good person I am.” She walked past her stepmother and dropped the matching shoe in her lap. Her stepmother gasped, though it was hard to know if it was because of the shoe, or because Dru was now running barefoot after the Prince’s carriage which was rumbling away.

Ella took the few dresses she owned in a bag and left the house that day. Never did she let anyone call her Cinderella again.


Jordans Pt. 2

I’d like to believe that reality will one day become easier. That the hard times will pass and happiness will overwhelm us. Peace will reign and everything will be good. But, it is not what is true. We muddle through our day to day, we hold on to those we have and then we pray that they don’t leave us. At least not now, not when it is too soon, when it is too fresh. Why pray? Because it is easy. It is nice to have something to cling to when life leaves you tumbling down a dry dirt road so full of prickers you wish you never stepped foot in that forsaken desert to begin with. Yet, it really wasn’t your choice. At least there is someone waiting for you, holding your hand as you spin uncontrollably into the storm that we deem to be life.

Bianca had only her friends. I have learned by my experiment (said Henry David Thoreau) and it has been my experiment, that seventh graders cannot be trusted further than you can spit. Their developing brains cannot allow them to understand the complexities of life, therefore they will be best friends until the end… the end of the week. Of course, they would never reveal this to you themselves, but it is exactly what happens on a daily basis. This was the case for Bianca as well. She may have had her friends, but they were never her true friends. So again she was left alone on the outside of the world looking in with no one to take her through the storm that she was about to pass through.

I have also come to understand that there are people who are evil. Maybe their own parents were like Bianca’s. There was no one to teach them right and wrong. She was looking for love. A person to hold her and tell her that life would be something. She would be more than just a woman lying on couch drowning the sorrows and horrible memories of a life time of wrongs. But, how do you explain to a thirteen year old what her step-father did to her was wrong and going to find herself comfort in the arms of a boy who was kicked out of middle school is not the answer?

Bianca was living the life that no child should ever have to find themselves a part of. She took solace in the fact that her one friend came from similar circumstances. Middle school changes people and it did that to her friend. She slipped Bianca drugs in her drink. Bianca overdosed in the middle of class that day. She had no idea what was happening. She began having seizure like attacks and was rushed to the hospital. Her life was falling further and further into a darkened hole and the rope was fraying. Every time we pulled her out a few more strands fell loose. It was the boy that would end up changing her life not once but twice in the same year.


In the land of Charmingville there lived a seventh grader. She was carefree and whiled away the days riding up and down the street on her bike. A purple and black blur of speed, her father had bought it for her Christmas of sixth grade. That morning she had come into the living room and her eyes filled with glee at the sight of the bike. She had begged for two years for a mountain bike. Finally, she had gotten her wish. Now, she spent her afternoons riding around the neighborhood with her two best friends. She would quickly finish her homework and get on that bike as fast as she could. It was her ultimate freedom. Her chance to really be a kid, she was after all only twelve years old.

Bianca’s copper hair fell past her shoulders. She did not live in the land of Charmingville. Bianca lived in our world. My world. I don’t think she ever owned a bike in her life. But, she had a pair of Jordans (Nike hightops), that were her pride and joy. When she wore those shoes she was not just another student in a uniform, she was somebody. Bianca’s father wasn’t home. He hadn’t been home since she was in the second grade. Her stepfather took off two years ago. She lived with her mother, if you could call it that.

When Bianca left for school her mother was lying on the couch. When she came home from school her mother was lying on the couch. The only difference was the beer cans that littered the floor and table were fresh. The stale cans were crumpled and cleared into a corner. Her older sister took up one room of the house with her infant son. Her older sister was seventeen. Bianca had been looking out for herself since fourth grade, no body else was going to do it for her. But, she wasn’t sure what she was looking out for. Then seventh grade happened. Her life turned a corner she never would have imagined. But, then again, she didn’t spend a lot of time imagining things. She lived to survive.