I wrote this story as part of the Fairy Tale Blogfest on August 30, 2010. The idea was to take a fairy tale and rewrite it with a twist. I chose Cinderella, and as for the twist, well… see for yourself below!

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“I hate this stupid dress,” Cinderella muttered as she hunkered behind the marble column. “It itches like crazy. Oh, and by the way, I’ll never forgive you for the shoes. Glass, Pete? Really?”

“Shut up and find the target, Cindy,” a deep male voice growled through her earpiece. “He’s gotta be impossible to miss. Just look for all the teeny boppers.”

Cinderella – or Cindy, as she was known among her fellow assassins – rolled her eyes. “This one is almost too easy.”

But Pete didn’t reply, so she took a deep breath, swallowed her pride, and stepped out into the sickeningly posh ballroom. It took all her willpower not to scowl at the crowds of obsessed fans who had somehow managed to finagle their way into the party. To her right was a gaggle of high school girls wearing matching t-shirts (screen printed with the prince’s face, of course); to her left, a group of tipsy middle-aged women cackled and swatted at each other, no doubt making disturbing, cringe-inducing comments about His Highness.

Finally, she spotted him: Surrounded by bodyguards, Prince Charming was making his way to the front of the room, where he would pick the lucky girl (Cindy emitted a small snort at the idea that such a girl would be considered lucky) for the first dance.

“Alright,” Cindy whispered into the hidden mic without moving her lips, a skill she’d perfected at Assassin Camp the previous summer. “I’ll have a clear shot during the dance. Unless… uh oh….”

“What?” Pete hissed. “Oh, no, don’t tell me he’s doing that. Don’t even say it.”

But Prince Charming was coming closer. “Yep,” she muttered. “I told you this dress was a bad idea.”

The prince was right in front of her now, so she gave him her most dazzling smile. Was there any way this could work to her advantage?

“May I have this dance?” he asked, hand outstretched. Every eye in the place bore into her, including those of the miserable looking high school girls.

She gritted her teeth and let her hand graze the gun beneath her dress before replying. “Why, of course! I’d be delighted!”

“Knock ‘em dead, Cindy,” Pete chuckled in her ear. “Just don’t fall for him, whatever you do.”

Again, Cindy rolled her eyes. Like that would ever happen.