This is my current list and is up to date. I didn’t include the ones that seem to have stopped posting. I will check them occasionally to see if something new has been posted, but I am not listing them here since they aren’t posting regularly.
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Tessa–
Advocate for mental health and invisible illnesses
Welcome to Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (aka, FOWC). I will be posting each day’s word just after midnight Pacific Time (U.S.). Today’s word is PASTE.
How are you today? How is our fellow friend, Jeremy, doing? I find it hard to believe we have all been pals for so long. I remember the days in school when we all used to eat the paste. I think of how awful that stuff tasted, but we never stopped eating it. Do you remember Mrs. Finch yelling at us all for eating the paste rather than doing our artwork? The memory still brings a smile to my face. Talk to you soon, my friend!
Sincerely,
Joshua
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Tessa–
Advocate for mental health and invisible illnesses
I haven’t read Cinderella in about 40 or so years and it is possible that some of the original story has leaked into this piece I wrote. I don’t feel like reading it to see what the actual story was. Hopefully some of the story is my piece and not just the story told in a slightly different way.
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Cinderella was lost in thought, the sponge in her hand dangling above the dirty water bucket. She was dressed in her normal attire of rags, as her evil stepsisters made sure they gave her all their hand-me-down clothing that was many sizes too large for her as she was very petite. The clothing was also worn out, and they always made sure to cut each piece up before passing it down to her to wear. They ensured she had nothing nice to wear, so she rarely left the house. She was essentially a prisoner in her own home.
The sisters, consumed by jealousy, were still trying to unravel the mystery of how Cinderella managed to obtain that exquisite dress and attend the ball. Had they known she had a means to get there, they would have gone to great lengths to keep her away. They couldn’t bear the thought of anyone recognizing Cinderella’s beauty, which they begrudgingly admitted was superior to their own. This jealousy fueled their mistreatment of Cinderella, as there was no love lost between them.
As Cinderella was daydreaming about the fun she had last night dancing with the most handsome man, the sisters burst into the room, their voices filled with excitement. Now was their chance, as the prince was making his way from house to house, trying on the glass slipper that had been left by Cinderella as she rushed out of the ball. He would marry whatever girl the slipper fit perfectly, and they were determined to be that girl.
They were rushing to bathe and get dressed in their best finery to be ready for the prince’s visit. They noticed Cinderella sitting there in their bathroom, daydreaming. “Get up and finish up the cleaning in here. We need to get ready,” the sisters barked at her.
She finished cleaning and turned to leave. “By the way,” Anastasia said, “you need to stay outside in the garden this afternoon from 12:00 PM to 5:00 PM and do not show your face at all. The prince is stopping to see us, but you are not welcome. Besides, you look absolutely filthy and horrible.”
Cinderella headed for her room, tears streaming down her face. She was the girl the slipper fit, and it should have been her meeting with the prince, but her horrible stepsisters were determined to keep her from even getting a chance to try the slipper on.
Looking at the clock, she headed out to the garden. It was at the side of the house, and she could see the prince when he rode up to their door. She wanted to call out to him, but her stepsisters had warned her about interfering in their visit.
She turned around and started to weed the flower bed at her side. She cried quietly. She could hear her stepsisters yelling at the prince to keep trying to put the slipper on, as it had to fit. It was one of theirs, they insisted, although it couldn’t belong to both of them anyhow. That didn’t stop them from trying to jam their foot in the slipper.
“I am sorry, but the slipper doesn’t fit either of you. Are there any more young ladies in this household?” the prince asked.
“No, these are my only two daughters,” their mother said. “I am sure if you try again, you will see that the slipper fits one of them.
“It is obvious the slipper doesn’t fit either of them. I am sorry, but I have to leave now. I have other young women to speak to.” The prince turned to leave. As he headed out the front door, he heard someone crying in the side garden. He headed toward the sound and found a young girl weeding the garden. She was beautiful despite her dirty face and clothes. He pulled the slipper out of the box and asked to try it on her.
Cinderella stopped crying and removed the old shoe from her foot. Just then, her stepmother came running around the side of the house and said, “Don’t put that on her. There was no way she was at the ball last night she is just the maid here.” Cinderella gasped.
The prince paid her no mind and slipped the glass slipper onto her foot. It fit perfectly, and as the shoe made contact with her foot, the fairy Godmother appeared. She tapped her wand on Cinderella’s shoulder, and Cinderella appeared in the beautiful ball gown with the other shoe on her foot.
“It is you,” the prince exclaimed. “You will be my princess. Come with me now. I will provide everything you need. You are nobody’s maid.” He silenced the stepsisters and their mother. “You should be ashamed of yourselves. Lying to me like that. She was here all along and should have had her chance to try on the slipper. I wanted every female in the kingdom to try on the shoe. I have found her now despite your spitefulness.”
Cinderella smiled, and she happily followed the prince to his carriage, where he helped her aboard. The fairy Godmother smiled happily at the couple before disappearing.
Tessa
Advocate for mental health and invisible illnesses
Tessa Dean - Author 