A/N: Hello and thanks for reading! First time participating in the NYC Midnight Fiction Challenge.

My Group was 56, Fairy Tale, aspiring singer, starting a rumor.

I will absolutely return the favor if you choose to critique my submission XD

Thanks again!


The Devil's Cut:

Do not trust anyone in Hollywood. A modern Fairy Tale.


Once upon a time, in a million dollar bungalow surrounded by the Hollywood Hills, there lived a young woman named Becki Zeigler, the sole heir of kingpin, and film director, Robert Zeigler.

He fueled her selfish and impudent behavior, in between blockbusters and evil Step-Mothers, by succumbing to her every whim. Becki's Father had raised a princess.

Most recently, she had fancied herself a singer which had resulted in the release of her very own, heavily auto-tuned, pop music album.

Poorly received, the scathing reviews dwarfed the number of copies sold.

Soon after her album flopped, Becki awoke one morning to find a present from her Father. He planned to return in a few days after scouting locations for his next film.

She unwrapped a framed, gold CD and a lump formed in her throat. The gift, commissioned by her Father and not the record label, only signified the achievement of making an album and, reading the accompanying card, her Father hoped it would give her inspiration for her next venture.

She flung her hollow trophy across the room, shattering the frame. The CD, dislodged from its mounting, slowly rolled directly back to her feet.

Her eyes stung while bending to retrieve the disk and one tear fell upon its holographic surface, just as she thought she would do anything to get a real gold record.

Becki's tear bubbled then evaporated with a hiss and the CD, now white hot, jumped out her fingers to the floor.

A thick smoke swirled up from the disk's glowing surface, like a tiny tornado, and she stood in shock as a figure miraculously began to take shape.

Had she seen The Devil's true form appear, Becki would have felt the raw, burning pulse of panic course through her entire body. She would have wanted to scream and blindly run away.

Alas, Becki did not.

She stood as if in front of a mirror, the vortex having transformed into her exact double, from her dyed-blond hair to the fuzzy slippers upon her feet. Becki's eyes widened and searched the waif-like image before her, finding the only notable difference being that the Devil's projection held a Grammy.

Becki blinked when she gazed down, not expecting to find her hands empty. Her twin then mimicked her voice. "Missing something?" Cheerfully asking, "Don't we deserve a real award?"

Becki's eyes snapped up and she agreed with herself, nodding.

After she revealed the truth in her heart, The Devil introduced himself through her doppelgänger, his puppet. "Look behind you." She pointed like a fan at a concert. "It's your Fairy God-Manager!"

Becki's eyes brimmed with curiosity as she turned, both hands cupping her face, and she welcomed the Prince of Darkness, admiring his handsome features and fashionable three-piece suit.

"So, you can help me win a Grammy…," She paused and continued hesitantly, "…and with my record sales?"

"If you let me." Lucifer grinned hooking an arm around Becki's shoulders, promising, "You will become richer than your Father."

After divulging he required a catalyst, she scrunched her face up and paused to consider his idea.

She rationalized the morbid hoax as a creative way to generate sales, and so, after one call to the biggest tabloid in Los Angeles, Becki Zeigler callously reported her own death.

The Evil One declared he would need the rest of the day and night to work his magic and she needed to stay out of touch until the next morning. By that time, he explained, she would be independently wealthy.

Becki obeyed, waiting until the sun rose, then she discovered a plethora of news vans parked in front of her home.

While running towards the television her phone rang from inside her pocket. Stopping to answer the device she heard the familiar voice of her Father's friend and lawyer, Edwin Fields.

She cringed away from the receiver as Edwin cursed her ability to keep her phone powered on. Then he apologized profusely, blaming his harsh words on the grief. The lawyer quickly asked how she was holding up and if she planned to sue the newspaper.

Frowning in confusion over his disturbing words she sunk to the ground and inquired what he meant.

After a significant pause Edwin swallowed loudly and said in disbelief, "You don't know?"

She shook her head and listened, waiting for him to finally continue, "I'm sorry, Becki." His breath hitched. "But your Father had a heart attack and passed away after he read your obituary."