The Writing Challenge — Day 3

A story that takes place pre-1950.

I don’t mind sleeping under the floor.
The house I stay in is raised about two feet off the ground in case it floods. The whole area is wooden, so from the outside, it looks like the whole under is solid. But if you move Mama and Baba’s iron bed, you can lift up a hatch that looks perfectly ordinary and go under. There’s no big handle, and the door doesn’t look different from the rest of the house. It’s perfect! Now, I am allowed up during the day. I get to help Mama fold clothes, and help Poppy (her name is really complicated so I call her that) cut the potatoes for dinner. They’re really nice to me, considering that I’ve only been staying with them since the war started. I miss Papa. Mama said after he told me to wait here for him, he had walked about an hour before the soldiers caught him and put him on the train. I don’t know where the train goes, but I know it takes you to a bad place. I asked Poppy if the train takes you to Hell, and she said “It may as well be.” I didn’t really get what that meant.
Here they come again. There’s a slit in one of the boards in the front, so I can see them before they knock. They search for people like me in houses sometimes. They never said why. Baba opens the door and lets them in, as usual. They look around, they open the dresser and the wardrobe, look under the cabinets and in the attic, then they look under Poppy’s bed and Mama and Baba’s bed. Then they take some of Poppy’s food and they leave. I know that if they catch me, I’m going to have to go on the train that takes me to Hell. Sometimes I think it will be good, because then I can see Papa and my real Mama.
There’s a little girl walking home. The soldiers see her when they leave the house. They walk up to her. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but she looks scared. One grabs her by the wrist and starts dragging her away. Now I can hear her screaming. Mama and Baba would take in more people, but it would be suspicious if they bought more food.
No, I don’t mind sleeping under the floor. It’s safe here.

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The Writing Challenge – Day 2

Write a FanFiction.

Woah there, get ready because I’m taking us all back to 2006.

It was just another ordinary morning.
Shit, how long had he been asleep? Ryuya sat up with a start and rubbed the crust out of his eyes before giving the campsite a tired glance. The fire was nothing more than embers, and the sun was already out; too late to know if midday had passed. Across the fire pit, the ever patient Uraha was fast asleep, using her forearms as a makeshift pillow. Usually there would be a thin pair of arms around her side to indicate that the princess was on the other side. Had she already woken up?
He gave a deep sigh through his nose as he stood up. At first, he considered that she had gone to get water, and went over to a tree to take care of business. How wrong that turned out to be. The silence of the morning was broken by a loud, “Ewww!!” Ryuya jumped and covered himself as he looked around. Wait… had that come from… He tilted his head up to be met with the princess’ pouty face.
“How lewd, exposing yourself in front of royalty like that.” She turned her head away and took a bite into a fruit. With her mouth ungracefully full, she added, “But I guess I’d expect no less from a poor man like you.”
The corner of Ryuya’s lip curled in annoyance and he turned so he could ‘adjust’ himself.
“You saw me coming towards this tree, you should have said something before.”
“I didn’t know you were going to do something so gross!”
“Why else would I have come here?! And don’t eat that, it hasn’t been washed!”
“I can eat whatever I want, I’m tired of rice!”
Their bickering was paused when a third voice interrupted with, “Well, aren’t we off to a good morning?”
The two looked over to see the third traveler putting out the fire with a soft smile. Her hair had come loose and fell around her slightly chubby face. The part in her hair where the ribbon went had made a wavy dent. “Uraha, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair like that.” Kanna remarked, laying so her cheek pushed on the branch. As if the fight hadn’t happened, Ryuya nodded. “I agree. Maybe I’m so used to seeing Kanna’s split ends drag everywhere that its refreshing to see some beautiful hair for a change–” As he was finishing that sentence, the hundred-pound girl dropped off the branch and onto him to make him be quiet. It didn’t work as smoothly as she thought; Ryuya was a professional, after all. He caught her easily and left her dangling off the floor, his hands under each arm. “Ah, has an angel descended from the heavens? Or is it an adorable little demon?” He gave a smirk. Remember that Kanna has only been awake so long, and can be more irritable than usual in the first hours of the day. “I am getting so sick of your shit!” She yelled, kicking him in the stomach– which did seem to have no effect on him– until another pair of arms pulled her down. Kanna was relieved at first, but found that her savior had not done it to help her. Uraha glared down at her with her infamous wooden fan in hand. “How could a princess as yourself use such low-class language?” An argument ensued between the women. Deciding it was best not to get involved, Ryuya gave a sigh and started packing the camp so they could continue on their quest.
It was just another ordinary morning.

The Writing Challenge – Day 1

Rewrite a classic fairy-tale.

Cinderella – The Beginning

Jonathan was only 37 when he passed away. Many cried at the funeral, but none more than five year old Ella. She had never known her mother, and her father had always been sickly. As she would grow older, her few memories would consist of her trying to bring him meat pies and strudels to keep him from growing any thinner. As her father began to speak less, Widow Gersovich from next door came more often. When she came, Ella had to leave and play somewhere else. She didn’t understand it until the funeral was over and the only ones who remained with the casket were herself and the widow, along with her two daughters who wouldn’t even look in her direction. “Ella. Your father left you in my care. You should know that my funds pay for Anastasia and Drizella only. Should you wish to live with me or on the streets is your decision.” Of course, Ella was only five, she surely had not heard that her father had married the widow a few days before his passing, nor that the widow was rumored to beat perfection into her daughters.
The passing years were to become what Ella considered ‘normal.’ A few months after she was taken in, the relatives had stopped coming to give their condolences, and the paperwork to adopt Ella had been finished. It was then that Ella was told that she would no longer have to leave the house to go to school, and that she could not stay in the guest room. Alone to find her own quarters, she discovered a small room hidden away in the attic, just large enough to do a twirl with both arms out. When she did that, she sometimes expected her father to pick her up under the arms and tell her that she could come home.
After the first night in the tiny room, she woke to find the room full of cinders. As it turned out, the room was an area to clear the fireplace’s chimney should it ever become clogged– and a portion of the smoke when it wasn’t clogged came into there. Deciding it wasn’t that bad if she got a little dirty, she went on with her new routine of cleaning while her stepsisters taunted her with her new name– Cinderella.