Author's Note: Okay, I know, I know, I'm supposed to be working on Mark of Q. But this something I started a long time ago. In a far away land. Filled with make believe trees.
Beauty and the Beast?
Question: when a crazed half starved madman accosts you in the wood and threatens to reveal your worst secret which would completely destroy your life unless you do exactly as he says, do you listen? Comment: NO. Instead, bash his head in with your bow and flee the scene. As quickly as possible. And then maybe lie low for a couple days. Unless no one finds the corpse, in which case you've got off scot free and you can go back to your happy work as a respectable shopkeeper's assistant.
Unfortunately I don't moonlight as an assassin or anything, so at the moment the possibility of murder never entered my attention.
"What's to stop me from killing you right here and now to protect my secret?" I asked the madman.
Okay, so maybe the possibility of murder WAS flitting among my innocent thoughts.
The madman hesitated, then pulled a dagger from his boot. I mean boot in the singular. He was only wearing one. The other foot was bare and pretty scratched up. See why I say "madman?" Who in their right mind goes wandering about the forest wearing only one boot? And only rags for clothes? Some sort of fetish, I wonder?
"You aren't exactly in a position to argue," he threatened, brandishing the dagger.
"Okay! Okay!" I tried to back away but he followed with a crazed look in his eye. "I was just kidding! A joke, alright? Ha-ha funny!"
"Then you agree, girl?" he said, emphasizing the gender orientated form of address. See, the whole compromising issue here, which was the reason I didn't just laugh in his face (aside from the dagger) is that I hide my gender from the entire town in order to keep my job as shopkeeper's assistant. And half the town knows me by sight and name because of my prominent position, including this madman, who was actually some merchant I'd always thought respectable until here he is wandering about with only one boot on, which was why he recognized me as Finch the shop boy. Except I didn't remain a shop boy to him for very long, not after he launched himself at me and I couldn't prevent him from discovering my gender as he clung so tightly to me. If you ask me, the mad merchant is the dirty one, though it would be my own label if the town found out. The superstitious, traditional elders would not be very happy if the truth came out. In fact, I would be cast in disgrace and at the very least called a witch and hung.
Not very thrilling.
"I don't really have any choice," I said despairingly.
And that was how I struck my devil's bargain, and joined the ranks of the damned.
"Darlings, I'm home!" called out the madman. Two girls came running out of the cottage shrieking. One came from the barn, doing the same only in a higher pitched screech. God, the horror of a girl's vocals. The pain is excruciating. Even pressing my hands to my ears didn't erase it completely.
"What happened to you?" One of his daughters gasped after they had finished jumping on him. So the jumping on people thing was in the family, apparently. Did it not occur to any of them that it was inappropriate? Am I the only victim? Surely there are others out there with ruined lives only from being the right height in the wrong place at the wrong time?
They chattered on endlessly. I paid no attention. These people do not deserve my attention. Their father is an evil mad manipulator out to send poor innocent girls to certain death and the daughters all able to create horrible torture with just their voices. The family clearly had a demon somewhere in their ancestry to be capable of such evils.
"–is Belle," his evilness was saying to me, referring to a daughter particularly uglier than the rest. She had perfect hair, perfect skin, prefect features, and enormous eyes. Like I said, ugly. "Belle, you remember Finch from the shop? He is our guest. Not for long, though. Soon he is leaving on a long journey." Yeah, long journey my ass. The man knows he is sending me to my death. Does he care? No. As long as his precious daughter is safe, I can go die a dozen hideous deaths. Maybe even a baker's dozen. That's even more, I bet.
The happy reunited family went inside the cottage, monsieur le mal merchant pausing at the doorstep to give me a look that clearly said DON'T YOU THINK ABOUT RUNNING. I HAVE THE MAYOR'S NUMBER ON SPEED DIAL. AND THE SHOPKEEPER'S. AND THE SHERIFF'S. GO SLEEP IN THE BARN. YOU LEAVE IN THE MORNING. BELLE RULES!
So now I was the madman's prisoner. Great. And in the morning I'd be forced to take his daughter's place and go to the castle the merchant talked about and be mauled to death by a beast. Lovely. My tombstone will say something like "Forced to choose between a hanging and a mauling, poor Finch chose the second, so her body was eaten, and this tombstone need never have been carved, which I'm sure takes lots of labor to do, carving words in stone, and who is paying for it anyway." And then I'd get in a lot of trouble, having to pay off loans beyond my grave. And the mafia would come after me. Which means I'm screwed. You don't mess with the mafia. Even if you're dead. Because they'll like, call up God and be all "God, it's-a Luigi. No-a, don't grovel-a," and then your afterlife will be hell.
Spending that night in the barn wasn't that bad, except there was a stupid goose chicken thing that tried to eat me. But it stopped the pecking and squawking when I nocked an arrow, aimed for its brain, and Got Serious. Smart bird.
After a very uncomfortable breakfast with the girls crooning over me and telling me to take care of myself on my journey while their father glared at me from across the table, I was almost glad to be free of that evil place. Almost being key. The alternative to the cottage wasn't too attractive.
Me being forced to walk while the mad merchant sat on a horse, we headed back into the forest. At least he didn't try to take away my bow and quiver. Though it's poor defense against a beast. You need like a Roman legion or something. Probably even something nuclear.
The mad merchant had no clue where he was going because we were pretty well lost within ten minutes. But still we kept going for an hour? I dunno. Maybe it makes sense when you're mentally insane. So obviously I wouldn't know.
The endless trudging was pretty annoying. Since hello, it's me, I started singing. "If. You. Were… GAY BAHNAHNAH BAHNAHNAH."
Mad merchant didn't take the hint. But he did whap me on the head. Such violence! Tsk tsk.
Then through the trees you could sort of see something. At least, I assume so, because the madman suddenly stopped and stared ahead.
"This is it. Go," he said eloquently. Then, "GO!" when I didn't move. Needless to say I got another whap. Yeah, well whap me again mister and I'll whap your FACE. He earned my ugliest glare before I slunk off through the undergrowth.
I shouted back at him, "MURDERER! YOU'RE THE REAL BEAST!"
For a second him expression changed to one of guilt. Guilt? HA! Yeah that's right! FEEL GUILTY AND DEPRESSED AND NOT ABLE TO LIVE WITH YOUR HORRIBLE SELF ANY LONGER OH LOOK SOME HANDY SLEEP PILLS… but then he clenched his jaw and pointed forward. "GO!" he shouted again.
So maybe the guilt wasn't too much for him to handle. But how could it not be? I mean, look at me! I'm too sweet to die! The monster!
Question: when you are being sent to your death by a monster, do you turn and make some very inappropriate gestures at him?
Comment: Yessss.