In a modern retelling of the classic tale Cinderella, it follows high schooler Samantha who lives with her stepmother Fiona and stepsisters after the death of her father ten years before. She does not receive any respect from them or anyone else at her school, except her longtime friend Carter. She works at a diner that Fiona owns and only the longtime manager Rhonda shows Samantha appreciation. In her spare time she goes to her online pen pal named “Nomad” who happens to be Austin the school quarterback with aspirations of his own. So comes the Halloween dance which is the night she has to work but Rhonda helps her out so she could attend and meet with her prince charming, Austin as she is Cinderella.
About the Creator
Forest Green
Hi. I am a writer with some years of experiences, although I am still working out the progress in my work. I make different types of stories that I hope many will enjoy. I also appreciate tips, and would like my stories should be noticed.
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New York Minute
Released in 2004, the film introduces twin sisters Jane and Roxy, living in Long Island who are the polar opposite from each other and their rivalry hit harder after the death of their mother. Jane is a straight A student who is to give a speech in order to receive a scholarship, while Roxy is a musician who is struggling in school, has missed several days and is going to send a demo tape to a big time rock band. The two head off together for a train for their rightful destinations but a mishap leads them to being chased by Bennie who wants a chip device that was planted on Roxy who also is being pursued by a truant officer named Max due to all the days she had missed. Now both sisters have to make it to their destinations on time, avoid different types of mayhem and get both men off of their backs.
By Forest Green6 months ago in Critique
Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
By Lamar Wiggins2 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
This is a different view of the Cinderella story. Good one.
Fabulous critique!!! Love it!!!❤️❤️💕