Beauty's Bandit
Tales of beasts haunt young and old alike; they are enough to keep one up night after night. Sometimes, one's fears can lead to desperation. This was the case of a young man who grew up hearing about the beast in the haunted castle. His fear led him to vow that he would one day destroy the source of his countless sleepless nights.
In the shadows he crept through the trees and the snow. The gleam of the moon shown through the tips of the fir trees above. Wolves howled nearby; he motioned for them to be silent. On and on they climbed, until the haunted house could be seen in the dim light. Tall was the tower, gray were the ancient bricks, and cold was the night surrounding it.
Closer and closer they crept. He grabbed hold of the lattice and climbed hand over hand until he could peer in through the window above. And, yet, what was this his eyes beheld? No longer a beast, but a man! So, the beast had bested the curse.
They caught each other's gaze, a hint of remembering crossed their faces as at each other they stared.
"A-aron? Is... Is that you?"
The man on the lattice dropped down through the window, raising himself up to his full height. "I'm surprised that you would recognize me."
"You have grown to be sure, but how could I not recognize my own brother? Looking at you is like looking at my own self!"
"How did you break the curse?" Said the intruder through steely, clenched teeth.
"Through the only thing that can truly change a beast back – true love, my brother!"
Aaron pulled his hood back over his face. "How can you love?" He spat. "You are a beast. You may no longer look like it, but you have always been so."
A look of pain crossed over the face of the older. "A-aron. I know you can never forgive me... The pride that I smothered over our family is still a dark memory in my mind... I was never there for you... I should have protected you – should have loved you like a brother." He reached his hand out to his brother, but was quickly rejected as the younger turned back towards the window.
"I could never forgive you."
The wolves in the woods howled out through the night. Their prince was still within the castle walls, and the moon was sinking between the hills.
Inside, a beautiful queen awoke to the sound of a baby newly woken from its sleep. She picked up her child and cradled it close to her chest. She sang a soft melody in its ear to calm the tears. Her ears perked at the sound of an insistent knocking on the door. "Coming, my dear! Just checking on the baby!" She quickly walked towards the door only to be surprised by whom she saw on the other side.
The servant child looked like death hung on his lips. "Your highness, the prince has returned! He is in the tower as we speak... I think he has come to kill the king!"
"Oh, Chip!" She clutched the baby closer as tears of fear began to flow down her cheeks. "I was afraid this would happen some day... He won't be satisfied until he has the throne!" The queen clutched her baby closer and then hung her head. "Chip, you must take the baby far away... Where he can never be found. I don't care if he ever knows he is royalty – as long as he escapes the curse for good. The envy and pride that has plagued this family for generations must be kept far away from this baby." The tears flew down her cheeks and she buried her face in the baby's hair.
"My queen, you must flee as well! You should take the baby far away from here!" the servant child bowed his head at the gravity of the situation.
"Though I love this baby more than I could ever explain, young one, my place is with my husband. Our love melts beasts in their tracks – we have endured hardship in the past, and one thing is true, my place is by his side. Though this might be the last night that we have, I would rather die with my hand held in his. Chip, you must take the baby in my place. It breaks my heart to even think this way, but I know that it must be so. Please, I beg you to do this for me!" Through her grief she thrust her child into the arms of the servant child and then ran out of the room, and up the stairs, to where her true love fought for his life.
The servant child, Chip, pulled a cloak over himself to hide the baby who was now sleeping unaware of the events unfolding around him. Through the cavernous halls the servant boy crept. Up the staircase to the library he went. Only the spiders in the webs above heard as he pulled the giant oaken library doors shut behind him. To the bookcase he scurried with his arm clutching the baby tightly. His queen had told him a secret before the baby was born. She was not naïve to the dangers of marrying a beast who owned the castle on the mountain. Everyone in the kingdom knew of the riches possessed by the family that had lived there. Thus, she had instructed the young servant, that should the king's estranged brother ever come forth to steal the throne, that the this passage was to be used.
Up the ladder and two the right were the queen's favourite books. Stories that she had read since childhood. Stories that reminded her of her father who had given them to her before she ever dreamed of being royalty. Behind one in particular was a key. The servant lad carefully moved the book from its place and pulled the key from its hiding place. Down, down the ladder to the floor. Through the dark to secret door. Out through the long cold passage way into the wild of the night.
A basket was placed carefully in front of the old children's home. In it was a prince, but none would ever know, for the child looked just as plain and normal as any of the others that had been unceremoniously abandoned by the doorstep. After a short knock was placed upon the door, the basket's delivery boy was clear out of sight.
Old lady Sister Helen, crooked and bent, hobbled on her cane to the door. She was not surprised to hear a baby's cry in the cool of the night. She had found countless others in a much similar fashion. The only remainder of the child's past that she could find was a hurriedly written note attached to its blanket. In a child's scrawly handwriting was written simply a name "Flynn."
Bringing the basket full of baby in out of the cold, she placed it on the table in the main reception room. Her assistant, a younger woman, possibly in her late forties, sat at the desk. "Oh, my goodness! Another one! We are quite running out of cribs – how can we afford to house another?"
"We always find a way, Sister Agness." She unpinned the note and carefully lifted the baby from the a basket. "The note says 'Flynn', but such a name carries no hope for an abandoned baby. Think up a civilized name for the child, will you?" She passed the note to her assistant who took it and placed it in a file drawer beside her.
"Let's see. The last baby," she examined the child before her, "boy we named started with a 'd'; so, I suppose this one should have an 'e'. How about Eustice?"
"We already have a Eustice upstairs! Think again – Quickly now!"
"Eugene!" Yelled an aggravated Sister Agness. "How many times have I told you to keep out of the reception room! You and your little friend Thomas have tracked mud all through the carpets!" The freckled child before her had his hands safely behind his back, and as innocent a smile as he could muster plastered across his face.
"Well, ma'am, I j-"
"Now, I don't want to hear any of your excuses." The nun cut in. "My job is to try and find suitable parents for you. How am I ever going to succeed if you keep growing into such a trouble maker?!" She squashed her fingers into her temples in exasperation.
"Yes, ma'am, I understand... Now, can I go?" He grinned a little wider to show his 'understanding.' Sister Agness threw him a glare. "Sister, you have given me so much wisdom today. I will have a lot to think about...Bye!" With a slight bow towards Sister Anne, an elementary sized Eugene Fitzherbert raced back outside to join the other boys that looked at him with eyes that were thoroughly impressed.
A shaggy, red-headed youth called over to Eugene, "Eugene, I don't know how you always manage to sweet-talk her like that. You truly are an example to the rest of us waifs!" Waifs was a common descriptor that the older nuns at the house had used to describe the orphans that lived there. Other names were also known to tag the excess trouble makers like Eugene and his friends.
"Guys," Eugene through them another of his winner grins, "I told you, it's – wait for it, wait for it – Flynn. A guy like me can't be referred to by any girly-given names." Eugene had pilfered through the reception room desk while completing a very daring mission given to him by one of the much older boys. In the process of finding a locket, he had found a small slip of paper inscribed with the word 'Flynn'. Eugene had thought that the name had a particularly suave sound to it and applied it to himself with his gang ever since; however, some of the guys would slip up and forget to call him by it from time-to-time.
