Cindy Ella (A Modern Fairy Tale)

By anon y mouse

Once upon a time…

Cindy Ella looked at the full moon from her attic bedroom window, took one last drag of her cigarette and flicked it down to the yard below. At eight years old, she knew the dangers of smoking but she also knew it didn’t matter in her particular case. Tonight she would be ending her life so long-term lung cancer was a moot point. She surveyed the dingy little room she lived in. More like a large closet, really.

A beat-up dresser, and old student desk and a creaky single-size bed (complete with broken slats). The one overhead light just added to the cheapness of the scene. Well, she thought, she certainly isn’t going to miss this. She sat on the musty mattress and pondered whether to leave a final note but decided not to. Anyone who would check out her life and surroundings would pretty much understand.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror above the dresser as if to say goodbye to herself on last time; a skinny little girl (she looked more like a boy, she thought) with a bad punk haircut, seriously sad eyes and a mouth that hadn’t smiled in years. “Well,” she braced, “I better get this over with. I’m sure I’m way too young to be feeling this bad.”

“Whooh!! You got that right!” A voice crackled from behind her.

Cindy whipped around in shock to see a woman sitting on her bed!

“Who the fuck are you!?! Get outta here!!”

“Hey. Hey!” the woman wagged her finger, “No foul language in anger. You’re too young for that. And I’m certainly capable of washing your damn mouth out with soap.”

Cindy wanted to run out of the room but couldn’t seem to move.

“Yeah, I did a little Blair Witch thing on ya there.” The woman said matter-of- factly, “Saves time. Hold’s you still so I can explain what this is all about without a lot of screaming and running away and convincing and stuff.” She clears her throat and announces, “I am your fairy godmother. Well, I’m a fairy godmother. There’s a few of us out there but -heaven knows- not enough. I’m here to help you with the current dilemma you’re going through and, quite frankly, I don’t have all night. So if you grasp the concept and promise not to scream and run and so on, nod your head and I’ll unfreeze you. Whaddya say? Do I get a nod?”

Thinking a minute, Cindy nodded cautiously and found she could move. She eyed the strange woman suspiciously. “You don’t look like a fairy godmother. Actually, you look like… well, like Susan Sarandon or something.” And she did.

“Yah?” she said proudly, “Thanks. I was aiming more for Toni Price, tho. I can be anybody! You know who I like to be? Mimi Rogers. The actress. OK so you don’t know her but she’s beautiful and she got these (holding her hands in front of her chest) huge knockers. Ample, I think is the word you’d use. It’s fun being her.”

Cindy began to think that maybe she got a broken Fairy Godmother and should request another. The woman seemed to be on caffeine high.

“Look, kid,” she eyed Cindy, “we’re not omnipotent. There are a lot of mixed- up kids out there thinking about biting the big one. Some of them we get to and some we don’t. Some of them help themselves or get help. And some just won’t take any help at all. Consider yourself lucky I was in the neighbourhood.”

Cindy couldn’t help but notice that the dress the woman wore kept changing colours every few minutes.