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Greetings, all :)
This is a story i wrote for my GCSE english coursework, it's a horror version of Cinderella. It's kinda gruesome at the end, sorry. And i know it's waaaaaaay over the top, but that's how it's supposed to be :) And btw, this isn't the final draft, i lost that one :(
And btw, i was listening to 'The Kill' by Thirty Seconds to Mars when i wrote it :)
Enjoy!!!!!!!!!



He stood over the cowering girl and smiled. How easy it was to end her, to stop her unimportant inanities with a simple rip of skin! He laughed derisively; he was perfectly at ease feeling the hot flow of blood only partially satiate his hunger, as she would not be the first tonight. He discarded her lifeless corpse with humour; she had never even had a flicker of a dream of an exodus. He recalled the moment with unmitigated clarity, how he had delicately called her name as she had hastened charily through the resplendently repulsive road. Every black surface was smothered with even blacker raindrops, reflecting this wonderfully miserable occasion back like a looking glass; he was in the perfect mood to slaughter.
“Elizabeth?” He set his face to the shockingly sadistic smile that halted heartbeats momentarily and then eventually ended them completely.
At the sound of his voice her whole body froze; she had been unable to hear his seemingly silent footsteps. He laughed softly to himself; these vacuous creatures were so easily unsettled!
“Come now, Elizabeth! Turn around so I can see your pretty face.” He had sensed her mouth-watering indecision with relish; it was far more fascinatingly enjoyable when they tried to escape. To his overwhelming delight she had imbecilely hurried down the unwelcoming road.
“Well, you have been naughty, haven’t you, my dear Elizabeth? Running away from me like that! Perhaps you shall be punished for your rudeness.” He darted down the road and easily caught up to her instantly. He could have blissfully killed her before she had had time to notice he was there, but he took great pleasure from watching his victims writhe in pain, so he had, taking no care, grabbed her by her fragile shoulders and forced her to look directly at him. Seeing her frightened expression, he had stared at her with unchained ferocity.
“Don’t you like me, Elizabeth?” She said nothing, petrified of what he was going to do to her. “No?” He grinned cruelly at her, “Well that is a shame! I’m afraid you are not going to like me at all after this. Still, some will be spared and some will not, it is just the way of nature!”
She hated him; she hated what he was and what he had done to her family. She knew she was going to die anyway, so she screamed at him, “I hope you and your vile family burn in hell, you horrible, monstrous fiend!”
He laughed joyfully. “Do not flatter me Elizabeth; it is not good for my ego.” And with that, he sunk his teeth into the delicious flesh of her neck.
He laughed again; reliving her gratifying annihilation was exceedingly pleasant.

*
She had had much more than her fill of pain already, but still each powerful blow hurt twice as much as the last.
“WHEN? WILL? YOU? LEARN?” screeched the vile harpy; with eyes so excruciatingly piercing they seemed to sear straight through to your soul. Cinderella still wept the tears she had wept for all of her seventeen bleak years. She had learnt to hear nothing, say nothing, and feel nothing. However, the latter was proving rather difficult at the time of present.
“Finished. For today, at least.” Two brisk staccato taps on the door interrupted her cutting voice. “Don’t just stand there! Let them in, you stupid girl!” Cinderella nodded dutifully, knowing better than to question her mistress’s cruel tone. She went to the heavily bolted oak door and opened it. As the two girls barged past her, she gazed longingly at the black castle on the hill, wondering, as she always did, who or what held residence there.
“Shut that door, idiot! You don’t know what is out there!” yelled the taller of the two girls who had come in. She had hair as black as night, and a heart to match. Her eyes were that of her mother, unbearably piercing and burnt with a fierce luminosity. This was Eloise, the older of the two girls, and daughter to the malicious woman now observing the girls with a motherly gaze.
“Mother, you will never guess what has happened!” Roberta, the other girl, exclaimed, her face with of dread. She had golden hair crowning her perfectly shaped face, her features conventionally beautiful in every way. Despite her striking appearance, she, like her sister and mother, had painfully piercing eyes blazing with unrestrained brutality. “Eloise and I were walking through the town centre and the royal messenger came out! He announced that his royal highness is having a grand ball seven days from now to select his first blood as an adult!” Roberta explained with terror. Cinderella was confused, as she did not know the secrets of the royal courts. She did not know that this meant that, as she was Roberta and Eloise’s stepsister, and her father was of the royal court, she should attend, and the consequences for not doing could be devastating. If only she knew what they were talking about!
Through the town, a sense of unease and dread slowly crept like an unwelcome demon, poking his ugly snout down every street, into every house and into everyone’s soul. The residents rarely ventured outside, unless they had overwhelming need for it. Curtains were shut and doors were locked. The maidens of each household spent the next week preparing. They sat at their expensive looking glasses, and wept silent tears for what might happen in a week. Their faces white as porcelain but not just with make-up were drawn and sorrowful as they picked out their best dress, and had their hair elegantly styled for the day they would die.
The day finally came for every maiden to attend the ball. Roberta and Eloise, twisted as they were, devised a cruel plan to trick Cinderella into believing the ball was a wonderfully spectacular event, and that the reason she wasn’t allowed to go was because she wasn’t pretty enough. This, of course, was highly untrue, and the reason she wasn’t going was because her father had forbidden it, saying that he would deal with the consequences when they came.
As the sisters departed for the ball, Roberta flashed a cruel smile to Cinderella on her way out of the door. Cinderella had been left out of things all her life, and this ball was just another event to add to the desolate misery of her shatteringly abysmal life. She ran into the garden and threw herself down onto the ground, feeling the crushing sorrow of her life painfully overwhelm her. She rolled onto her back, gazing up at the black sky. She saw a lone crow circling above her, his beady eyes a ferocious red and his glossy feathers darker than the pitch-black night. The bird suddenly dived out of the sky and landed next to her.
“What is wrong, my child?” crooned the crow, with a slight hint of malice in his voice.
“I am not pretty enough to go to the ball!” cried Cinderella; fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.
This startled the crow for he, having circled the town all his life, knew what the ‘ball’ really was. He realised that this girl must not know the secrets of the prince and his family. He spotted an opportunity to cause possible death, and sprang on it.
“Why of course you are pretty enough to go!” he shook his feathers until one fell out. “Wave that feather and you will be transformed into a beautiful girl worthy of the prince!” Cinderella did as he said, and in a flash like a flame she was wearing a beautiful blue silk dress. It was easily the prettiest thing she had ever seen. She had on two glass slippers clearer than the clearest lake. A beautiful white and gold coach, complete with four magnificent horses and footmen, appeared beside her. As she climbed in, she thanked the crow for his kindness.
“Think nothing of it, my dear! Just be home by midnight or you will lose your pretty clothes!” sang the crow, knowing entirely that she may not make it home tonight. The evil crow laughed cruelly to himself. The stupid girl!
When Cinderella entered the ballroom, she was easily the most beautiful woman there. Every girl in the room wore smiles, but you could see the cracks and flaws in every one. Behind each lipstick smile a sobbing female lay.
The prince immediately noticed the mysteriously beautiful girl as she entered. He strode over to her and swept her into his arms, towing her to the middle of the room. He smiled warmly at her, and she smiled timidly back.
“I do not think I have seen you before. And what a shame that is! To think I have been without your beautiful face for so long!” He appeared to be marvelling at her beauty, but he was in fact examining her blood, making guesses at how delicious she would taste. She looked absolutely mouth-wateringly delectable, but he mustn’t kill her now, he must wait till midnight.
Cinderella gazed at this beautiful man who wanted to dance with her. From the moment she had looked at his face, she knew she loved him. His features were without flaw, his smile remarkably trustworthy, and his eyes a deep blue.
They danced for hours and hours, never breaking each other’s gaze. The large clock eventually struck midnight, and Cinderella broke away from the prince.
“I’m sorry! I have to leave!” shrieked Cinderella as she ran down the marble stairs.
“After her!” yelled the prince, as he had just been planning on killing her. The castles guards ran after her just as she tripped on the bottom step, losing one of her glass slippers. She ran on, knowing she was about to transform back into a scullery maid. Just as she entered the woods, her beautiful dress transformed back into her ragged clothes and her coach disappeared. She trudged home, shoeless and heartbroken. How sad that she had had to leave the prince! He was easily the most beautifully charming man she had ever met.
The prince stormed to his fathers room, thoroughly annoyed that he had missed killing the girl with the most delicious aroma. He slammed the doors open violently and marched into the king’s room. The towering man stood over his ebony desk, pondering over a pool of blood that lay there. The young girl lay behind the desk, her skin paler than snow, her skin ripped to shreds. She was currently consumed by an unavoidable slumber that she would never awake from. The king, noticing his oldest son, glanced up with an evil grin on his face. “So son, enough beautiful girls to choose from tonight?” he laughed. The handsome prince glared at his father.
“Yes, there were. Actually, I had my eye set on a particular one, and then…she ran away!” he fumed, his hands balled into fists at his side. In one of his hands he held Cinderella’s glass slipper, almost breaking it in his forceful grasp. “As she was running down the staircase though, she tripped and lost a glass slipper.” He held out the shoe for his inspection.
The king surveyed the slipper with interest. He delicately took it off of his son, turning it round and round in his hands. He spoke slowly, formulated the plan as he said it. “If… we were to, lets say… look for this girl…we may find her. And, if that were to happen…I’m sure you would make sure she never moved again, let alone run away.” Thoroughly decided, he called through the door, “Bartholomew! Kindly come here a moment.”
A skeletal creature crawled into the room. It could hardly be called a man, though he possessed the components of one. His movements were of an arachnid, his limbs jutting out at odd angles, his sallow skin broken in places, revealing the vile being’s bones. “Yes, your highness?” The creature’s raspy voice had a malicious tone to it, adding to the overall revolting gruesomeness of the writhing being.
“I have a little job for you…” smiled the king, laughing to himself at the fascinatingly atrocious possible outcomes.
As the spider-like thing crawled through the streets, the prince followed in a carriage drawn by two of the most beautiful girls from the ball. Both girls were wearing nothing but rags, there shoulders pouring blood from where the ropes cut into them. “Run!” one of them screamed, her eyes filled with insanity. “Run! Save yourselves! Worse than the devil himself rides in this carriage!” The prince, who was, in fact, sitting inside the carriage, laughed. “Worse than the devil, eh?” he muttered “That’s a new one.”
They entered every house in the village, demanding to see every maiden who took up residence there. They forced the slipper onto the foot of each maiden, but it fitted none. As they got to the last house, the prince was furious that the girl had not revealed herself. He entered the house and, as he had done countless times previously, shouted, “I want every female of this household to declare themselves, and come to me!”
Roberta and Eloise thrust themselves towards the prince, sobbing. “Please! Don’t hurt us!” they cried, their tear streaked faces full of terror.
The prince grabbed the slipper from Bartholomew and ordered Eloise to sit in the chair by the barely lit fire. She obeyed, and as she sat down, the prince grasped her ankle in his fist and tried to force the slipper onto her foot. He grunted in irritation; her foot was too big for the shoe. He eyed a carving knife on the side. Seizing the knife, he brought it down heavily on Eloise’s foot as she screamed ear splittingly. The blood gushed from her mutilated foot, the bones protruding grossly, the veins hanging limply as Eloise shrieked and screamed at the pain. She could not stand it anymore, so she grabbed the carving knife and plunged it into her chest. It punctured straight through her fragile skin, through her rib cage, and into her heart. It pierced her easily, but the pain was even more intense than when she had lost her foot. As she breathed her last breaths, she realised that she had thought there was nothing worse than the pain of her foot, but she was wrong. This was worse. Much worse.
Roberta stared at her dead sister with anguish. The prince ordered her forward and made her sit as Eloise had. When the shoe fit her neither he pulled the knife from Eloise’s unmoving chest and cut off Roberta’s leg. The knife had easily cut through Eloise’s foot, but it had more trouble dealing with Roberta’s leg. The prince repeatedly slashed her leg, but it would not seem to pierce thoroughly, her leg attached by a stand of muscle tissue and skin to her hip. Roberta shrieked in pain, her leg grotesquely partially separated from her hip. She also could not stand the pain, and plunged the knife into her own chest. Unlike Eloise, she did not regret her suicide, and welcomed her demise.
“NO! NO! NO! How is this possible?! I have been to every house and have not found her!” shouted the prince.
Cinderella, who had been hiding behind the door, stepped forward. She was sure he wouldn’t hurt her; he loved her. He turned to look at her and recognized her immediately. She took the slipper from the floor and placed it on her foot, where it fitted perfectly. She pulled the other from underneath the fire where she had kept it and put that on too. The prince was too shocked to speak.
“I’m sorry I had to leave the other night. I really didn’t want to. I love you.” She said the words timidly, looking down at her feet as she spoke.
The prince stepped towards her, she did not flinch. He bent his face to hers and brushed his lips against hers. “I love you too, my beautiful one.” He truly meant it, because as he looked at her face, her ripped clothes, her coal covered skin, he had fallen in love with her. She was far more beautiful than he had ever seen her, her natural beauty radiantly clear, her blue eyes filled with requited love.
“Run away with me. We will start a new life somewhere far away, where none of my family can reach you.” He kissed her again; he loved her so much his heart might ferociously shatter with the power of it.
“Of course we will, my prince! I love to the ends of the earth.”
Roberta lay dying on the floor; she had heard every single declaration made. Filled with jealous hatred of the elated lovers, with her last ounce of strength she grabbed Cinderella’s ankle and pulled her over, causing Cinderella to fall straight into the embers of the fire behind.
“NO!” roared the prince, watching the woman he loved by consumed by the flames. The fire had welcomed fresh kindling with relish; it blazed fiercely with the help of Cinderella’s blistered skin. She shrieked in pain as the fire ate away at her skin, pulling layers of flesh off one by one. It burned away straight to the bone as if she were no more than wood. Her mangled skeleton lay amid the coals, scorched black with the heat.
“My… darling…” croaked the prince, utterly overwhelmed with the pain of losing the one he loved. Unable to go on, he pulled the carving knife out of Roberta’s chest, she was surely dead now. He held the knife up so it would catch the light of the fire, absurdly admiring the beauty of it. Nothing, he thought, compared to my one and only love. Crushed with excruciating pain at the thought of the deceased girl, he plunged the knife into his own chest, gasping slightly as the blade broke skin and muscle in one fluid movement.
“I LOVE YOU!” He fell to the ground next to the dead girls, and departed into the joyful abyss of death.