THE LOST UNIVERSE
'The castle is your home now, so you can go anywhere you wish, except the West Wing.'
'What's in the West Wing?'
'It's forbidden!'
Beauty and the Beast
The castle is huge and full of rooms.
Some look like cathedrals in their own right: tall and airy, brilliantly lit, with high gothic ceilings painted in stars. Colourful reflections dance on the walls as the light shines through stained-glass windows. Soft music seems to be streaming from above, even though she cannot see any other musical instruments.
Some rooms are small and cramped with old furniture and devices the purpose of which she can only guess.
Some look more like laboratories, with test tubes, flasks, glass vials and mortars. Someone must have been here not long ago: experiments are in progress, with mystery concoctions and potions boiling, bubbling, and puffing out colourful steam. There are other, modern laboratories, filled with gauges, indicators, beeping instruments, and flashing lights.
She walks slowly along the carpeted corridors, peeking behind each door. Some rooms are locked: when she can't turn the door handle, she is content to look through a huge keyhole trying to make out whatever it is inside: wardrobes full of clothing, kitchens, and pantries.
One of the rooms looks like an observatory. With a glass dome instead of the ceiling, the sky seems to descend on anyone who enters, making them feel part of the endless universe. A huge telescope, pointing at the Northern Star, makes her want to fly far away, to places beyond human imagination, and stay there forever.
She forces herself to walk on. There are so many more places here to see. She's been allowed the freedom of walking around the castle and she is going to use it as best she can.
She opens another door and gasps. She must be dreaming. It's a library. Shelves upon shelves filled with books in all languages and with people who live in the books. She browses through manuscripts, maps, printed volumes, scrolls of papyrus and parchment, written in all alphabets of the world, and she is happy. She could stay here forever to read every single word.
But she needs to go. The castle is too big to tarry.
The next room must be a museum. It is a huge hall filled with ancient scriptures and sculptures, and paintings, each placed carefully behind glass. As she holds out her hand, the glass cage moves up allowing her to touch the stone. So old, so full of tales... She tries to read what it is but finds no label. Instead, funny circular shapes and lines are carved in the stone. When she touches them they seem to resonate with something deep inside her but she only hears the music.
She would so love to understand their tale.
She walks across the portrait gallery, fixing her eyes on each of the portraits. Men and women, from all walks of life, all ages, and all races of the universe look back at her. The paintings are so lifelike that she wonders why they don't say hello when she passes by.
As she leaves the gallery, she notices there is no more carpet and she is walking on cold paved floor. Light is dimmer here and the air seems stuffy. There are some statues in the corridor, and some niches, all covered in dust. There is dust on door knobs. No one has touched most of them for a long time, and no one has cared enough to clean this part of the castle. She hesitates but the rooms are open, so why not look? There are heavy brocade curtains on the walls but other than that the rooms are empty.
She keeps walking.
The air becomes stifling and hard to breathe, and she feels goose bumps on her skin. It's chilly with a specific kind of unpleasant chill. It's not just temperature. It's more like emptiness, or despair. And cobwebs. Nobody ever comes here. Nobody mentions it. It's ultimate desolation...
The corridor turns left and right, and there are no more doors. Only the feeling of loneliness becomes more piercing. Or, she wonders, it's the draught? Wind must have opened a window somewhere near. Except, this part of the castle has no windows. It's dark and cold in here, and the darkness creeps slowly into her heart.
And then she sees the end of the corridor, with a heavy wooden door. It looks ancient, like it's been locked for ages, sealed with circular carvings. She stops and holds her breath. Do they sing, like those in the museum?
No. They weep.
They howl.
It's like howling of a creature being torn into pieces alive. It's like the entire place is mourning over an open grave. She cannot bear to hear it, she covers her ears with her hands but it doesn't help. The wailing trickles through her fingers into her head, and it hurts.
She must open the door. She must stop it!
There is no door handle, no knob, not even a lock. She pushes against the door, brushing away cobwebs, but it appears stuck. She pushes on and there's a cracking sound. The door starts moving slowly and heavily. She looks into sheer blackness.
Blindly, she touches the wall in the room and lets out a cry as her fingers wrap around a sharp piece of broken glass. Someone must have smashed a framed painting, or a mirror. She puts her finger in her mouth to ease the pain and stop the bleeding.
And then, out of nowhere, she hears the growl of a furious animal, and before she has time to turn her head, the growl escalates into roar.
'GET OUT!'
Two clawed paws grab her and hold her up, dragging her away from the open door and pushing her hard against a stone wall. She hits the wall and collapses, letting out a slight whimper. He looms over her, still roaring, and she sees madness in his eyes. It's only a matter of seconds before he breaks her neck...
'Get out NOW!' she hears his voice again.
A part of her would like to stand up to him, argue, ask questions, laugh at his stupid fury and turn it into a joke. But something tells her she shouldn't. Not in this place. Still crouching, trying to look as small and insignificant as she can, she withdraws slowly. At the turn of the corridor, she looks back and sees him still standing there.
He closes the door protectively, and for a moment his hand hovers over the circular writing. Then he tries to arrange the cobwebs back in their place so that the place looks exactly as it did before: undisturbed and quiet. He is holding something in his hand. She can't make it out from the distance but it must be a flower. A red flower.
He puts the flower on the floor with the kind of softness she has never seen in him. And then she hears his roar louder than before. A roar of an ancient Beast mourning the loss of an entire universe.
It must be a universe, she thinks. Nothing less than the loss of a universe could cause so much pain. But she cannot ask: not now, not ever. She is lucky to be alive and she knows he won't talk to her for a long time. Maybe he never will.
She runs out of the castle and keeps on running until she is completely out of breath, until the sound of his roar fades in the distance.
'Oh, how terrible! Did they ever make up?' asks the little girl anxiously.
The woman smiles and nods reassuringly. Of course they did. In fairy-tales, they always make up.
'Did they live happily ever after?' comes the next question, and a brief cheeky smile appears on the woman's face before she replies.
'Oh, yes, they lived happily in two opposite directions.'
The little girl frowns, trying to solve the puzzle.
'So she lived happily ever after, and he lived happily ever before?'
The woman grins.
'And then?' demands the girl.
'And then, at the very end, which was also the very beginning, he gave her the library...'
The girl gasps in wonder.
'You mean, all of it?! All the library to herself, with every book and every person inside?' It sounds almost too good to be true. 'Has he shown her the locked room?'
The woman shakes her head sadly, and all her curls suddenly come to life, jumping and swinging around.
'It was the only place in his castle she was never allowed to see,' she explains.
'Why not?' the girl asks inquisitively.
'It was not part of their ever after or their ever before.'
The girl looks up at the woman with her big brown eyes.
'What was it part of, then?'
'Forever, sweetie. It was part of forever he once lost.'
The girl looks thoughtful.
'Has he opened it ever since?'
'I don't think so, sweetie. It's not meant to be opened, it's too much pain. When you lose your forever, it's like part of you is torn out, and the hole is the size of the universe.'
The girl looks at her impatiently. Grownups are sometimes hopeless at understanding simple things.
'This is stupid. If it's forever, then it must be still there! Forevers don't just die or get lost, they are, you know, forever! Why won't he just open it?'
The woman looks at the little girl again and again, turning over the words in her head. Why won't he just open it? Forevers don't just die...
But there is no way she can tell him that now. She can only hope that one day he will understand it himself.
THE END