The Cinderella Miracle

By Leonard Cary and Ashley Raine

Discover the miracle! Learn the spiritual truths behind the world’s favorite fairytale and witness how The Cinderella Miracle fulfills a higher purpose. Cinderella’s cruel stepmother and selfish stepsisters have kept her imprisoned as a servant in her own home. Now an emergency mission of angelic intervention is her onl

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cloud 8 1/2 Books
• Release date: Mar 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9780990457718

Leonard Cary

Leonard Cary is a freelance author, playwright, composer, theater director, teacher, and professional computer software developer. He enjoys live theater and orchestral music, and has a bachelor's degree in trumpet and composition. He blogs at LeonardCary.com. His two adult sons were both homeschooled and are now making their own way in the world. But Leonard and his wife, Maggie, have little time to be empty-nesters because they continue to mentor homeschool students by staging theatrical productions, coaching a speech and debate team, and teaching enrichment classes that augment the educational opportunities and experiences of homeschooling families in the North Denver area of Colorado (CaryAnn.org).

Book preview

Book One

By

Leonard Cary

Illustrated by

Ashley Raine

Cloud 8½ Books

Copyright © 2015 Leonard Cary Carabelos

Illustrations Copyright © 2015 Ashley Raine

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Hardback ISBN: 978-0-9904577-0-1

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9904577-1-8

Stage Play Script ISBN: 978-0-9904577-2-5

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015913413

Published by Cloud 8½ Books, Thornton Colorado, USA

Foreword & Acknowledgments

In its original form, The Cinderella Miracle is a one-act stage play written for a group of homeschool students. It premiered in Colorado on May 20, 2005, and I am grateful to the cast and crewmembers who brought the story to life. Watching ideas flow from the page to the stage is a very fulfilling experience, and it has been a joy working with so many wonderful young actors over the years.

I am thankful to Paula Moldenhauer for her prayers, script suggestions, and wise spiritual counsel in shaping the story’s plotline. And to my son, Jeff, for his exceptional editing, comical contributions, and the way he breathed life into the most challenging character: Mr. Richardson.

But my deepest thanks and appreciation go to my wife. Maggie inspires characters and plotlines, provides critiques, and keeps me on track. My writing wouldn’t exist without her as my motivation. In addition, the teenagers with whom I have been privileged to work have always been her students first. I am very thankful she shares them with me.

The year before I wrote The Cinderella Miracle, Maggie and I produced and directed a musical that presented unusual challenges, including half the cast coming down with the flu just weeks before opening night. I was burnt out and uninspired when the next school year rolled around, but Maggie was still motivated to give homeschooled teenagers great learning opportunities. She was convinced a simple, non-musical version of Cinderella would be an easy task compared to the difficulties from the year before, so she moved forward despite my typical reluctance and uncooperative attitude.

Maggie purchased scripts to sample and optimistically scheduled auditions for the start of the school year. But after reading six different disappointing versions and having only two weeks until the audition date, she turned to me, and asked, Couldn’t you just write something? Of course, I responded with my usual negativity, but I already knew the real answer was Yes.

Several years earlier, some homeschooling moms involved in our co-op group expressed that their children were not allowed to watch classic Disney fairytales because of the non-Christian glorification of magic within those stories. That news saddened me because I love the Disney classics and thought that it would only take a small reinterpretation to see the magic from a different perspective. I didn’t realize that God had planted that idea so that several years later my wife’s Couldn’t you just write something? might be answered with Yes, I already know what to do. In two short weeks, the script was complete.

Maggie is my Guardian Angel, my Intervention Agent, and my Warrior. She is my Clara. I tend to be a reluctant writer, even though the writing process is always joyful. But Maggie’s ability to push, charm, and bribe me with dark chocolates always manages to produce a Holy Spirit inspired script. And that leads me to my most important thank you...

I give my greatest and unending thanks to God and the inspired words He gives me through Christ and the Holy Spirit. I truly feel His touch and guidance when I write, and there are many times when the storyline weaves together in ways that surprise and delight me even as I type them.

Cinderella wasn’t my first journey into playwriting, but it started a series of spirit-filled stories that touched and changed me. The appreciation expressed by hundreds of people over the years has taught me that the stories have touched other lives as well. I pray the miracle continues to ripple through you, your children, and many generations to come.

Miracles and Blessings to you,

Leonard

Chapter 1

Forms and Procedures

Clara glanced at the unintended target as her arm moved to strike. The thought of her fist hitting the word Miracles sent a shock rippling through her. She stopped her balled-up hand mid-swing, nearly lost her balance, and had to step back from the door to catch herself. Her foot landed on a soft cloud.

I’m swinging my fist at Miracles! It’s as if I were ready to punch its lights out! Clara whispered to herself.

She let out a sigh and felt her shoulders relax. Oooooh… this is ridiculous! Am I really that nervous? Why should I be nervous?

Clara breathed deeply and looked at the door just a step in front of her. The words Department of Minor Miracles and Blessings, written in shiny gold lettering, sparkled like a reflection of Heaven’s rays. She exhaled softly, but when she read the last word on the door — Richardson — she felt a lump form in her throat.

Clara needed help, but she wasn’t sure if this office was the right place to ask for it. And she knew the angel on the other side of the door was a busy manager with an important job. Maybe I haven’t done everything I should, she thought. Or maybe I made some mistakes. I don’t want to waste his time.

Clara felt tension in her eyebrows and heat in the rosy cheeks of her delicate face. Her prim nose tingled, and her slender jaw clenched in anticipation. Even the golden-brown French knot curled at the nape of her neck felt tighter than normal.

She looked down to the small, white cloud that had formed to catch her misstep and saw her hands tightly clutching the sides of her blue dress. The long, glistening gown covered Clara from shoulders to ankles. It gleamed like a million blue sapphires cast into silk and woven with diamond thread.

Her fingers shook as she released the shimmering material. But her dress sparkled and twinkled and winked as if to say, God goes with you.

She breathed in again and, with a resolved step forward, lifted her arm to knock. But this time, Clara carefully positioned her fist at the edge of the door to avoid hitting Miracles or any of the other shimmering words.

She delivered two quick knocks and winced at their sound.

Enter, came a firm, low voice.

Clara slowly did as the voice had commanded. Quietly turning the knob, she entered the room.

Mr. Richardson sat behind a desk that faced the door. He didn’t look up from his work, so she stood there for a moment, twisting her fingers together under her chin as she glanced around his office.

A single tall file cabinet stood in the corner, if you could call it a corner. There really weren’t any corners, or any walls for that matter. Other than the door in its frame, only clouds formed the room, and they slowly shifted and changed — as clouds always do.

The office was sparsely furnished with antiques. A wooden swivel chair sat behind the old wood desk with a corded rotary-dial desk telephone and other items typical of a modest office from Earth’s 1950s.

Clara knew from his reputation that Mr. Richardson was a no-frills, everything-by-the-book manager, and his conservative office décor only served to cement that impression in her mind.

He was still busy writing, and Clara realized that the longer she waited, the more awkward the situation became.

Mr. Richardson, sir, may I have a moment of your time?

His head snapped up from his work, and he sprung from his chair. As he came around the desk to greet Clara, he quickly fastened the top button of his black two-piece suit jacket over the silken white shirt, and he adjusted the already perfect Windsor knot at the top of his diagonally striped black and gray tie. Mr. Richardson’s appearance was pristine and commanding.

She swallowed hard as he approached.

Yes, what can I do for you, Miss...?

She instinctively offered her hand. My name is Clara.

His handshake was quick and firm. Nice to meet you, Clara.

His eyes were piercing and his face angular, with conservatively short