;A.Cinderella.Story..level3

[pretzel]

What if, when the prince came to find the owner of the glass slipper, it fit one of the stepsisters instead?
Is Cinderella even the innocent picked on little girl that we all seem to know her as? Or a spoiled brat?
Did Sleeping Beauty accidentally prick her finger, or was she really conspiring with Malicifant, the real target being Prince Phillip?
What if Belle was the beast?
What if Repunzzle was a widow, trapping young princes and killing them off.
What if Little Red Riding was a wolf hunter?
And many more!

Your challenge is to take a princess/fairy tale story, and switch it around into something odd, dark, not too happy, and not what we all know. It must be 700 words at the least, and can just a short cap of what really went down, or what the princess is really like.

(got the idea from jeftoon01.deviantart.com/ and his Twisted Princesses)

Get creative! And get out of the box!

[auden]

The Lion King: Prequel

I chose to make a background to The Lion King portraying Mufassa as the bad guy and Scar as the wounded, robbed, brother. Scar was formerly known as Orr in my version, which is why I use that name instead throughout the narrative. A bit of other need-to-know-info:
~ Sakari is Simba's mom {Actual movie name}
~ The hyena's are double agents; working for Mufassa to pretend to work for Scar/Orr but really actually working for Scar/Orr cause he's nicer.
~ Mufassa's evil and so is Simba
~ The stampede was planned by Mufassa, Simba was not lured there by Scar/Orr but really followed his father there and Scar/Orr is there because the hyenas told him to go, and Mufassa is there because he wants to use the wildebeest to kill Scar/Orr.
~ Orr means light in Hebrew, and Simba means lion cub. That's not really need-to-know, per-say, but it is interesting.

Here we go:

The sound of hooves on the ground drowned out Mufasa’s words, and Orr cocked his head to indicate that he hadn’t heard his younger brother’s voice.

“I said, you’re about to get what’s been coming to you this entire time, Orr. Death, dear brother. It’s what I’ve always planned, of course. You’ve out grown your use.”
Orr stiffened. It was the first time Mufasa had used his real name, Orr, since he had first started ruining Orr’s life. When they had been young lions, Orr had fallen for a lioness named Sakari. Mufassa, who Sakari was crushing on, promised Orr that he would help his brother get the girl, if Orr gave up the right to the throne that came with being an older brother. Orr, in a fit of stupidity and blinded by love, agreed. The next day, Mufasa went back on his word and wooed Sakari, taking her as his mate, and keeping the right to the throne.

“You can’t kill me. You might have managed it with our father, but you can’t take me. I’ve resisted you thus far.”

[/b] Orr called over the sound of wildebeest
careening through the cannon. His claws came out and dug into the stone and he tossed his black mane out of his eyes, glaring at his younger brother with hate. After Mufasa had stolen Sakari and Orr’s birthright, he had killed their father and pinned the crime on Orr. Orr, who had always been awkward and tongue-tied, was unable to adequately defend himself, had faced the wrath of the pride, and earned his scar and the name which the pride now referred to him as, Scar. Now the older lion circled his brother, the lying, stealing, cheating king of Pride Rock, who didn’t deserve the son or mate he had, or the countless lions who served him. He didn’t deserve it at all.

“I sure can kill you. I’ll kill you all right, and my crimes will go to the grave along with you. The stampede my hyena’s have so kindly created will swallow you whole. They are great secret agents, don’t you think? Following you around this whole time and pretending that they worship you?”

But Orr knew something that his brother didn’t. The hyena’s did worship him, they followed his every move and gave him secret Intel from inside Pride Rock. They were his double agents, because he gave them compassion, encouragement, and food, and Mufassa only gave them harsh words and punishment. “The hyenas are more than you think. They have feelings, you know.” He informed his brother as the golden lion began to prowl around Orr. Mufassa threw back his head and laughed, his roar drowning out the sound of the stampede for a heartbeat.

“Oh, really? Those idiots? Feelings? You always were a dreamer, Orr.” Mufassa said with a shake of his golden head and a chuckle. “But, enough chit-chat. I’m afraid your time is up, dear brother. You know too much. After I kill you, I shall rule Pride Rock, and perhaps go on to conquer the lands beyond. And my son, Simba, will follow in my steed. He’s learned a lot on how to do whatever it takes from his father.” Mufassa’s brown eyes flickered for a moment before he bared his teeth. Orr winced. There really was no way he could beat his brother. After all, Mufassa had killed their father, one of the best fighters the pride lands had ever seen. Orr had no hope.

So when Mufassa leapt, Orr ducked. And, surprisingly, Mufassa sailed right over his head, skidding to a halt inches from the edge of the cliff, pebbles flying beneath his paws. Scar watched as if in slow-motion as his brother’s bulk and momentum forced him forward, toward the edge, and finally pushed him over the side of the cliff.

Then the world snapped back. Mufassa had fallen! Orr rushed to the edge of the rock, peering down at his brother, who was hanging by his paws onto an ledge, dangling over the stampeding animals. Orr gasped. Here was his brother, the one who’d made his life a living hell, hanging by his claws to a rock, and Orr was the only one who could save him. He could clear his name. He could kill his torturer. He could be free. But as he looked into Mufassa’s eyes, he knew that he would never be free if he let his younger sibling fall. He reached down, paws outstretched, and clamped his limbs onto his brother’s.

“Pull me up you fool!” Mufassa spat suddenly, swaying over the herd of wildebeest, fear in his eyes. Orr winced, paws still resting on Mufassa’s. What if he let him fall? What if he finally gave into the evil personality Mufassa had shaped for him, so long ago, and let his sibling die? What if he killed? But it wasn’t his nature, it had never been his nature, he wasn’t a liar or schemer, or worse, murderer. It just wasn’t him. So he dug his claws into his brother’s paws and began to pull.

Mufassa yowled with pain, roaring as Orr’s claws pierced his skin, and attempted to pull away. That movement was all it took. The ‘king’ lost his grip on the rock, and Orr lost his grip on his flesh. He made a wild grab, but Mufassa was already falling, a victim of gravity. He fell and fell, mouth open in a wordless scream, until he disappeared in the mass of panicked animals.

Orr stepped back from the ledge, tears welling in his eyes and shock plastered to his face. Even after all Mufassa had done to him, he still felt a twinge of pain at his brothers passing. Just then, he noticed his nephew, standing on some rocks. Simba had witnessed the whole thing. Simba would spread the story like wildfire. Orr was not free, not even now, because Mufassa still lived on in this cub. Orr growled suddenly. Couldn’t he ever get away? Couldn’t he ever get a break? He padded toward the young lion, rage boiling inside him, rage that he had controlled so well for so long. This cub would not ruin this for him. His prosecutor was finally gone. All sorrow he had felt disappeared in that instant. No, Simba would not take away his freedom like his father had. Simba must leave, he must leave now. Orr would make sure of it.

And so the black lion disappeared into the shadows, slowly falling into a role. A role his brother had cast for him so long ago, that he had avoided and run from for so many years but which he was now, inevitably, molding himself to fit. The role of a lion who lived in the shadows, who had a black heart and a blacker soul. The role of lion who cared for no one but himself. The role of the villain. The role of the murder. The role, of Scar.
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[Rachel]

Ah what a fellow, that Rumpelstiltskin. He was constantly picked on, that was just one of the usual symptoms of being a midget in the medieval day. Did anyone bother to realize that he was not a dwarf, just a person born with a genetic defect? No, the people in the days of the noble knights were cruel. His name, which had been passed down through the family, didn’t help much. Kids at school called him “Rumpy” at first, and that of course led to “Lumpy.” What was a kid to do? He wasn’t a fighter or witty or brave, he was just a sweet and abused little boy. He ran away when he turned 13 to live in the forest where the ever-so-tall eyes of his peers couldn’t see him.

He was content with his secluded life in the woods. He made friends with the animals, who brought him shiny yellow threads they found draped along the trees deep in the forest. He hung them up on his quaint little cottage, giving it a little bit of personality; however he never treated the golden thread with any more thought than that. What use was golden thread to a man who lived alone?

He was soon to change his mind. A maiden one day disturbed his seclusion, stomping through the forest. She was carrying a bucket and muttering about her father making her do “manual labor.” Rumpelstiltskin thought she was absolutely beautiful. Even though her voice was twisted in bitterness, to him it was like the song of an angel. Her golden hair hung down loose and as the light caught it it shimmered like the golden threads upon his house. He hastened to grab a couple of strands and rushed after the beautiful girl.

He caught up with her before long, and although she sneered at his height and name she loved the golden thread he showered her with. She, unlike him, fully understood it’s value and hoped it would help her catch the eye of the blacksmith’s son. He was so dreamy. Rumpelstiltskin didn’t realize he was being used, and every time the maiden appeared in his woods he supplied her with more thread.

One day however she didn’t return. He waited and waited, clutching the threads in his little sweaty hands, but she didn’t come. Finally he worked up the courage to leave the woods and find her himself. He had enough intelligence to know he couldn’t be seen, so he hid outside of the old miller’s house and listened through a crack. The miller was sobbing, and explaining to the neighbors about his daughter whom had “claimed to make straw into gold!” The man was sure she was just bragging to get the blacksmith’s son to notice her; she had been mooning over him for weeks. However, it had gone wrong and the King had heard rumors of her and was jealous. He had taken her and if she failed to weave straw into gold for him she would be killed.

Rumpelstiltskin knew he had been used, and had half a mind to go back to dwelling in the forest. However, he could not let the maiden die, she was vain and angry yes, but did not deserve to die. He snuck into the castle, it was quite easy really (no one ever seemed to look for the 3 foot tall person), and hastened to her cell. She was sobbing quietly, knowing she had no hope.

He watched her for a minute, unseen before entering. She looked upon the man she had used with scared eyes, she was sure by now he knew she had never loved him. Surprise flickered in her face when he shoved a handful of the golden thread into her lap. She knew that he still loved her somehow, but she knew she did not love him. “Here,” she whispered as she un-did the catch on her necklace, “have this in repayment.” Rumpelstiltskin refused, but the maiden persisted. Little did he know that the maiden was only offering repayment because she didn’t want to be in his debt, not because she actually cared about him. Grudgingly he took the necklace, and the next night he received a ring.

The third night though the maiden had nothing to give him. She fretted, looking for something of value for when Rumpelstiltskin showed up but she found nothing. When he arrived she frantically shouted out “You can have my first child!” Rumpelstiltskin was ecstatic, he took it to mean that her child would be biologically his, not that he got to take her child from someone else. The maiden realized what he thought too late, but their was no way to take back her hastily shouted words and so she became engaged to Rumpelstiltskin.

It came to be a problem however when the King arrived. He was so happy to see the maiden had turned the straw to gold that he married her on the spot! Rumpelstiltskin watched from the shadows, sure the maiden would forget her word, however she did not. She secretly married Rumpelstiltskin, but no one ever knew that while she was wed to the King she also had another secret husband.

When she became plump with child everyone assumed that it was the child of the King, even his Highness himself thought so. The Queen dared not tell anyone, but she knew that it was really the child of Rumpelstiltskin that grew in her belly. She secretly feared that the child would be short and disfigured like her 2nd husband, however her son came out perfectly normal. The King held celebrations for his new son all around the country, but Rumpelstiltskin just watched the child with gloriously happy eyes.

It was not to be however. The Queen was a horrible mother, constantly leaving her son alone or allowing him to scream at high decibels. Rumpelstiltskin had fallen out of love with the Queen as soon as he fell in love with the child, and wished to take his son back to the forest. However he knew the Queen would never allow it, the King would scour the country for his heir. He also knew that the courts wouldn’t give him custody, everyone knows they always rule in favor of the mother.

In desperation he ran to a witch and offered her the ring and the necklace the Queen had once given him for protection of him and his child. The witch promised him that the Queen would not be able to take the child from him unless she could guess his name in three days time. Finally happy Rumpelstiltskin returned to the castle and took his child. The Queen was angry, but she could not force the boy out of Rumpelstiltskin arms. He laughed and told her, “You can only take him if you remember my name you vain fool!”

The Queen had never been good with names, especially with men she didn’t like. Not even one of her husbands had the right to have his name remembered, although now she wished she had paid attention. She made a couple feeble guesses, but all of them were wrong.

Rumpelstiltskin carried his son from the castle and back to his forest home. He and the boy were going to live happily ever after there. However, he had not realized that one of the Queen’s messengers stalked him. He was ambitious and power-hungry and hoped that he could learn the mans name that stole the Queen’s baby. Rumpelstiltskin had named the boy Rumpelstiltskin Jr. because “Rumpelstiltskin,” as mentioned earlier, was a family name. He spoke to the boy, calling him his true name, and the messenger hurried off to tell his Mistress about it.

The Queen rode to the cabin she once stomped by in the woods and called out Rumpelstiltskin name loudly. Rumpelstiltskin realized he no longer had protection; he had to give his son up. The child was forced from his arms and the Queen rode off with the babe she disliked with a passion to present him to the King.

The story of the evil monster Rumpelstiltskin was spread through the land and all of the people disliked the “dwarf man” more and more. Too bad all the poor man did was love a beautiful maiden.