Barefoot Cinderella.

Chapter 1.

**

"Star light, star bright. I wish I may. I wish I might. Grant the wish I wish tonight." I chanted as I looked at the calm, stellar night sky. These are actually the nights wherein sleep couldn't make its way through my system no matter what; solely because this is what turns life in its truest sense.

There is always something in those bright stars and starry nights that made the world look so alive and magnificent. It was one of those days wherein I get to sleep in the roof, incognizant of all avaricious things there is to life. The moment where I get to actually feel. The moment when reality and fantasy were incredibly close but neither of them really touches. It had a thin line, and sometimes, it was something that definitely matters.  Little things are what matters.

I am being emotional too, I guess. That's what they always say to me at school or even outside its premises. Depressed. Goth. Lunatic. Destitute. Unremarkable. And all the other hateful words and throughout these years all I ever did was to couldn't care less. I'm way too fortunate for my own good, even. As I've said, there are those little things...

Their riches just don't seem to enticing for me, though. And I thought that there will be no way in time, that I would dream of being with them.

My thoughts slurred due to the strong endurance I've held for awhile now just to get a glimpse of these heavenly, celestial bodies, and I thought that maybe this is the exact time to hallucinate voices that I have never ever heard before.

"Dude, I'm telling you this for the last time." My thoughts were unhinged by the hushed voices that were coming from below. "All you need to do is to scare the living shit out of something in here. Do. You. Copy?"

First thing that came to my mind was that these people surrounding my house are robbers. But then, the realization came almost instantaneously that there wasn't anything in this house that had the capability of being robbed. It's either they have that thing too, or it's too obsolete and archaic for their own good.

"No." said a stony voice. "And I don't think I would ever understand the purpose of this game." I scooted further, only enough to get a glimpse of their faces. However, the darkness seemed to be meddling with my desire. There were at least four guys outside our house— in the middle of a freaking night. Exactly in the middle of my favorite midnight.

"What the hell, Zach? What are you, an eight year old? You're supposed to know something about Truth or Dare!"

"Why do you think I care, France? I mean, how did it even crossed your mind?" The other voice said nonchalantly. And I swear, there's just something in him that felt aristocratic even with all the venomous sarcasm. And familiar.

"No, no. You've got this, Zach."

"I don't think I do."

"You are such a baby, you know that?" One guy from the group interrupted and with that being said, all the other three surpressed a laugh, which I know, peeved the guy named Zach, even more.

"Baby me, then. What's more worse than having my feet inside a rotten garbage bin? This bin looks like it's gonna break anytime soon."

"Oh, please. It means you're fatter than you think you are."

Zach almost punched the guy in front of him and I thought that it was really a good 'ol joke. Nevertheless, I felt my innards boiling up just by the thought of him referring our house as a 'rotten garbage bin'. I mean, how could he? I loved this house even if it doesn't possess all the likeable things in the world. And that, was like the meanest thing I've ever heard in my entire life.

"You're getting me into trouble with this, France!" Zach said exasperatedly; flinging his hands helplessly in the air.

"Then stop being a sourpuss and get this shit over with!" Zach groaned involuntarily and said, "What do I do after I do this?" All of them whispered a series of 'What the fuck is wrong with this guy' or 'Is he serious?'