Note: The story will take on my view of the events as canonical as possible. If anyone reading this detects a flaw that can be corrected, address me and I´ll see what I can do.
Disclaimer: I do not own FNAF or Beauty and the Beast
It´s True Definition
He vaguely recalls having been told about death: What would be awaiting one´s arrival, the Purgatory, Hell and the Devil, Heaven and God. And many more times he had been reassured that the only place he would go would be Heaven. After all he wasn´t a bad person.
But he doesn´t feel like he´s in Heaven. Where´s the promised joy, the angels, the gardens, where´s everyone for the matter of fact?
Could that be Hell? Then why was it so dark? Where were the mean people, the demons with giant forks, the hot cauldrons, the red colors, the Devil?
Better yet: Where was the sky, the horizon, the life?
There was only a spotlight, shinning light on his restrained form. Tears were rolling down his cheeks and he didn´t dare to move a muscle. He couldn´t see anything because of the darkness surrounding him and all he could feel was excruciating pain.
YoU ARe DISgustiNG!
All his being was hurt, from the tips of his toes to his head, especially his forehead. How he wished to let all the pain out with a scream but he wouldn´t, in fear that the pain would grow more instead of doing any good.
"Why is this happening to me?", he thinks.
HaaaHAAAHa…
He searches beyond the darkness for anything that could provide answers yet the darkness did not wish to give them up. And since moving his head around increases the pain his body´s taking, he made no move to turn around.
Eventually he returned to his non-stop self-questioning of how he had got there, looking for clues in his memory. But he found only blank spaces in his mind: He had no name to call himself and no clue on how long he had been there or how he had gotten there.
NO one wILL MisS YOU!
He concentrated on examining the position of his body.
He was sitting on his knees, that were starting to hurt from being kneeled for seemingly long periods of time; his arms were stretched to his sides and restrained by the wrists with rusty chains; Also the right arm was broken and bruised while the left arm was unharmed; His ankles were restrained too by more rusty chains. The weirdest of it all was that he felt his forehead on fire even though there was no fire around. And it hurt like hell.
LeaVE aND nEVEr retURN
"Someone help me…", he thought gritting his teeth and sobbing.
He continued like this for several amounts of uncertain and painful time that he used to gradually learn to ignore the sensation of being lonely and suffering. He closed his eyes for the hundredth time and begs one more time for salvation. And just like that a white light filled the space.
He opened his eyes in surprise and closed them in a second due to the bright light. When he felt the light dying he opened them again. His eyes widened instantaneously and his mouth opened in amazement as he stared at the beautiful woman making her way to him. Her blonde hair hovered around her being, her white eyes staring gently at him, her full lips in a smile, her golden and violet vests fluttering at the whim of a wind unknown to him.
She now stood a step away from him she crouched to better look at him. Her emanating golden light was slightly brighter under the beam of light but he didn´t mind. She passed her right hand by his left cheek and the pain and burning feelings fades away. With the same hand she reaches out to his right arm and with a touch she reattaches the bone in his arm. He winces.
-T-T-Thank you. – He murmurs grateful and weakly to the woman.
The woman´s warm smile turned into a sad one. She waved her left hand and the chains on his ankles and wrists unlocked themselves and dissolved.
She backed away to the darkness in order to give him some space as he felt the embrace of freedom, his hands grasping his legs and crying. He was finally free!
Music: FNAF 4 Night 6 ending theme
-You´re broken. – She said, her voice sounding soft and hurt and making echo.
He wouldn´t look up to her yet as he noticed shapes surging behind her through his eyes filled with water. Four grey shadowy figures stood in a line, eyeing him with stoic looks. One of the shadows, with a hook for a right hand, vanished in thin air, leaving three figures that, if they had noticed their companion leave, didn´t care.
-But we can still be your friends. – The woman said and her voice made echo once more.
Another shadow, with a beak for a mouth, faded from view in front of his eyes. Now torn between watching the shadows more closely and facing the lady, he chooses the latter option and gives her a confused look.
-Do you still believe that? – The woman asked him.
He nodded out of confusion and caught a glimpse of another shadow, with rabbit ears, disappearing too. It was only him, the shadow with a hat and a microphone in its right hand and the woman left. He was still crying, the woman was still observing him with pity and the shadow kept it´s stoic posture. The woman crouched again and put a glowing hand on his shoulder.
-I´m still here for you. – She reassured him.
In that moment he was touched. She was an angel sent from above certainly, who could´ve left him to rot but had decided against it, and better of all she promised she would be there for him. He was deeply touched by her choice to help him and he had to show her that. With no gifts for her, he settled with giving her a hug, though he couldn´t avoid sobbing. Over her shoulder, he watched as the last shadow turned to nothing. The woman made no move to return the hug and told him:
-I promise I will put you back together.
And then the glow began to fade away and her form became less and less solid until she too left him all alone, hugging air. He dropped his arms to his side and the feeling of loneliness slammed in his mind again. He closed his eyes and when he opened them he sees nothing but darkness once more. Fearing the loneliness more than never, he cries until he passes out.
-…eur?
-… ake up, …ease.
He grumbles and shifts position in the chair where he sleeps, dropping a black book he had in his hands on the ground.
-Monsieur!
The man jumps in his chair and falls on the ground, his face right on top of the black book. Blinking his eyes, he rubs the eyelids and gets a hold of his surroundings. He quickly picked up the book and got up from the floor, cleaning the dirt off the book with the sleeve of his right arm. Once he found it clean enough, he went to a shelf in his left and placed the book in the same place he had found it.
The dream was the same one as the ones he has been having on all of his anniversaries. Countless times he had studied the dream, hoping to know what could provoke them, comparing the dream to core life moments of his life, yet no. It had never stopped.
-I´m so sorry, François. I guess I fell asleep again. – He apologizes to the old librarian with a small smile.
-Think nothing of it, Monsieur. After all, you have been working late in the tavern and I know that you are not one to fall asleep out of boredom. But you must leave so that I may close the book shop. – The old man asks him, closing a curtain in the window.
Nodding, the man makes his way to the door and waits there for the owner. He taps his left foot while doing so, watching the owner cataloging the day´s visits and the books that had been ordered and returned. He chuckles at the fact that he knew exactly who had ordered the majority of the said books.
-Say, has she read Les Liaisons Dangereuses? – He questioned the owner.
-I´m afraid I don´t have that book at my disposal, Monsieur. – The owner replied not looking at him. – Who is the author?
-Pierre Choderlos de Laclos, if my memory serves me right. – He answered after thinking about the book.
-Oh. I`ll see if I can find the book. – The owner smiled him. – And also, remember when you asked me for Gulliver´s Travels last week. – His favorite customer nodded. – Well…
The owner ducked under the table and reemerged with a book with a green cover that read Gulliver´s Travels.
-Happy anniversary! – The owner exclaimed.
He couldn´t believe his eyes. The book he had been searching for over the past week had turned up. And as a birthday present! He happily jumps to the owner and takes the book from his hands. He feels the hard cover of the book on his hands and opens the book on the first page. The pages were soft to the touch as he turned page after page. He savored the delight until he closes the book with a grin so wide it threatened to split his face in two.
- Thank you so much for the gift! – He said as he gave a bone-breaking hug to the owner. The latter pats him on the back.
- Now, my boy, it´s not every day you turn 23. You, above everyone, deserve a good and special life. – The owner tells him.
- Or maybe you are too generous to me. And for the hundredth, you can call me by my name, not "Monsieur" or any other things. – He reminds the owner shaking his head exasperated.
- Alright then, Paul. Well now I really have to close the store. Come again tomorrow!
Paul left the store the minute he was told this. He pulled open the small wooden door and travelled through the almost deserted streets while reading his new book. The few people on the street at that end of the afternoon passed by Paul and gave him censoring looks.
- Look at him, wasting his time reading books. – A middle-aged man in brown clothes confided with his wife. He was shushed by the wife and they moved on.
- That man might be worst than Belle. – The baker whispers to himself as he watched Paul ducking under a wood board carried by a muscular fellow and jumping and sidestepping some children playing pirates with sticks. All that without removing his eyes from the book. – They should get married. God, what am I saying?!
Up ahead, Paul walked by two couples who were standing outside of a hat shop owned by a man named Chaplau. The discussion issued between them, about the gossips of the marriage of the local florist with a German shoemaker, was put to a halt as Paul passed by them.
-There he goes again. – Comments one of the husbands, putting a hand to his bald head and rubbing it in exaggeration.
-There he goes indeed Achille. Such a young man already corrupted by books. Just like Belle. – His wife, with black-going-grey hair and brown eyes, agreed with sigh. – Imagine if he was a woman!
- Oh Camille don´t say such things. – The wife of the other couple protests, with her hands on her hips. - Although when you think about it, it would be like watching Belle´s sister. The village doesn´t need another woman like her.
- But Marie, he could turn out like her father. I heard he is beginning to take lessons with that lunatic. – Marie´s husband, the highly respected merchant Absolon, tells her.
They all gasp at the sentence and it`s meaning if correct.
Paul, unlike his best friend, didn´t possess the ability of playing a deaf hear at the comments about her friend´s family and himself. So he stops, closes the book loudly and heads to the chatting group. His presence frightens the group, making them shut up and stand nervous.
-With all due respect, madames and monsieurs, you are so utterly incompetent that you can´t even control what you say. So why bother in commenting other people´s flaws when you should fix your own? – He asks them with a calm but bitter tone.
-Monsieur Roy-Palomer, how dare you speak like that to us! – Achille exclaims approaching the young man.
- I dare yes because while Belle had the time to grow accustomed to your comments I did not. They helped me when I arrived here 20 years ago and when no one else would. They helped me get a house, a job and most important of all a family. So YES I dare to stand up to them and YES I dare to call you incompetent. – Paul counters calmly, although he`d prefer to shout it at them.
-"When you arrived here 20 years ago"? What is that nonsense now? – Marie asks intrigued.
- You are all idiots, so why waste my breath with you? I bid you a good night.
With no more intention to hear any more of their complaints, Paul turned around and walked away, leaving two couples with their jaws hanging and embarrassed of themselves. Paul resumes his walk, this time without reading the book and holding it in his hand, preferring to calm himself over getting into the story. Seeing the moon beginning to show up in the sky, he runs to the tavern to begin his shift.
The large town´s tavern had the fireplace lit on by the time Paul entered through the back door that leads to the tavern´s storage. Passing through shelves full of bottles of whiskey, wine and several varieties of treats, he enters another area of the tavern that serves as a kitchen with a stone stove and various tables to cut and cook the requested meals. In there he finds the bartender too, a man with short brown hair with a bald, of a thin figure much like Paul´s, and using black and blue streaky pants and white shirt under his dirty apron, polishing his metal beer cups with a concentrated look.
-Monsieur Gerárd, I´m here to do my shift. – He announces to the bartender.
Gerárd lifted his eyes of his task and smiles at Paul.
-Have you forgotten what day is today, Paul? – He asks.
-Hum… 24th of November? Today we began to prepare for the upcoming party and in two days there´s that science festi… - Paul answers.
He narrowly avoids the bartender`s cob.
-No you silly weasel! Today is your birthday! – He barks with a bigger smile. – How come you can´t put two and two together?
-Ah, birthdays. I´ve learned not to mind that event as much as I did as a child. – Paul waves the fact off.
-My dear boy, you have to treasure every special day of your life, even if you think it means nothing to you. – Monsieur Gerárd slaps Paul´s left arm and Paul rubs it. - And my gift to you is today you can celebrate your anniversary in here. So no shift and free beer to you.
-I don´t need that, I´m fine. – Paul declines politely.
-Nananana, no excuses. Get in there and drink all the beer you want with us!
With this, the bartender gets behind Paul and pushes him to where all the action was.
-EVERYONE LISTEN UP! – The bartender shouted to the whole crowd gathered, drinking and playing cards. Paul recognized some people, like Gaston´s tall and muscular figure, his little sidekick Lefou and the whole society of the town´s lumberjacks. – GUESS WHAT?
- Paul´s giving free beer on the house? – Lefou attempts to guess.
- No, you dimwit. – Gaston says, slapping Lefou´s neck. – Today is his anniversary.
-INDEED! SO WHADDYA SAY WE GIVE HIM A PROPER PARTY?
The crowd agrees with a single shout of approval.
Paul curses to himself.
After many hours of drinking with every man in the village, avoiding Gaston´s questions about Belle and playing darts miserably, a drunken Paul wanders the streets, mumbling incoherent words. Luckily most of the town´s people had retired home; otherwise he would have been shouted at and thrown with whatever was at hand´s disposal. Tripping on his own steps, he curses loudly to everyone at the tavern for leaving him in that state. He had wanted to spend his anniversary in a calm way, not with excitement and with a big party.
It took only 2 cups of beer for him to get drunk. And he didn´t even drink beer!
That way of spending his birthday started when he turned 15 and realized that it was another day like another regular one. No thrill or excitement filled him ever since. Maurice found it odd as well as Belle. That gives Paul an idea.
Even drunk, Paul knows he couldn´t get to his house in the North of the town, but he knew who would be willing to take him in. They always stayed up late so he´d be welcome there. Crossing/tripping his way across a small stone bridge, he goes up a small hill where a house with a water mill lets smoke leave to the outside through a chimney. He trips on a log while going up, causing him to fall with a grunt.
Paul spits grass out of his mouth angrily and puts his hands in his head, massaging it. He places the hands on his sides and lifts his upper half of the body to get up. That´s when he notices it: black feet were in front of him, where before he saw nothing but grass, of such a dark color it hurt his eyes and with chunks of flesh missing. He slowly looks up to see withered black legs, a withered black torso with a bowtie, withered black arms with enormous big paws with sharp pointy fingers and then the head.
The square black head of what looks like a rabbit with whiskers, a mouth full of sharp white teeth, and eyes encased in metal circles with white and blue irises.
The vision sent a shiver down Paul´s spine as he stared at the creature and it stared at him. They remain still, not averting each others` gazes in complete perplexity until…
SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeee!
Paul screams and pushes himself back with his hands in terror and surprise as the creature launched a high-pitched scream that rings in his hears. Paul rolls down the hill and halts when the back of his head hits the stone bridge. His vision becomes a blur, his ears register static and his conscience starts to fade away. In the meantime the creature walked down the hill with it´s arms extended towards Paul and it´s head twitching to several sides and angles that no human or animal head could possibly reach. A background dark mumbling came from it´s open mouth. Paul tries to stay awake, enough to face his attacker, but is failing as the world around him darkens.
"Someone… help…"
And the world goes dark.
Music: FNAF 3 Bad Ending Theme;
Music is played. The walls are grey and the ceiling is red. He is up on a stage like the ones you see in a theater play.
He´s staring at two animatronics, or whatever their names are. They say they can talk and walk like we can and they give you cake and birthday parties and sing your favorite songs. But to him, they are scary. Especially the bear.
The bunny is okay he supposes. Maybe because he is funny with his gold colors and goofy smile and his walking actions. He walks like he´s slipping in a banana peel! But the bear is… the purple hat and bowtie give him an air of ridiculousness, but he is way higher than the Bugs Bunny(who is he?) and that makes him look mean. Also his mouth opens and closes so strongly when he sings it could crush a peanut or his own microphone.
-Come now, there´s not need to be afraid. – A man´s voice says behind him.
He then realizes how little he feels. He has to look up to stare at the bear and he stands at about the height of the animatronic´s legs. Before he knows it, he is grabbed by his armpits, lifted up and sat on someone´s shoulders. He can now look at the bear´s blue eyes.
-See, son? Even Fredbear is happy to see you. – The man says.
Paul holds his breath. Was that his father?
Audio File: Nightmare Fredbear´s laughter (FNAF wiki – Nightmare Fredbear character page)
The music stops playing and the bear or Fredbear laughs. But Paul cringles when he hears it. It sounded like a demon laughing.
At the same time Fredbear begins to change: bits of his tough yellow skin decay, crumble and fall off; his belly cracks in a horizontal line and sharp teeth emerge from the upper and lower sides of the line; It´s fingers`skin falls off and exposes pointy sharp metal fingers that could scratch you and leave a wound open forever; In it´s mouth gigantic sharp teeth come out too; and the eyes turn devilish, blood-thirsty red;
Fredbear stops laughing and his eyes lock with Paul´s scared ones.
Then his arms go up and snatch Paul from his father´s shoulders. He roars at Paul and proceeds to bite his head.
-AAAAHHH!
Paul wakes up in a bed inside a room he identifies as Maurice´s, on the second floor of the cottage. His panting decreases as he catches up to his breathand calms down. The sun enters the entire room and forces Paul to close his eyes due to the sensibility caused by the hangover. Accompanying this was the strongest headache he had ever felt in his life.
To avoid dirtying Maurice´s sheets, he gets out of the bed and makes his way to a desk near a fireplace to take the toweland clean his face. In a mirror hanging in the wall in front of him he takes a look at his face: His shoulder-length brown hair is a mess that a comb could amend; his blue eyes are bloodshot and narrowed enough to not allow most of the light to reach them; His cheeks are still with a tone of pink and his mouth´s dry.
Paul tried hard to remember what happened at the tavern but all he could remember was Monsieur Gerárd making his birthday public to the whole village. After that all was blank. All except for that strange occasion on the way to Belle and Maurice´s cottage. That dark shadow of a bipedal screeching rabbit was imprinted in his memory like glue.
"An illusion obviously", he deems the encounter.
His stomach kicked in urgent need and Paul takes his left hand to his mouth to keep it from opening. Pushing the window to let the air flow to the room he bends over the window and vomits for a long doesn´t care if his eyes are sensible to the light or that most of the town is watching him right now, he cares only to get over the damn hangover.
-Oh my god! – An exclamation comes from behind him.
He clings to his head to unsuccessfully suppress the headache. He resumes his straight form and turns around to face a woman with a hand covering her face, wearing a blue dress and a white apron. She has brown hair just like Paul, tied in a ponytail with a blue ribbon.
-`Morning Belle. – He greets, relieved to see a friend.
- Good morning Paul. Please could you put something on? – She greeted him.
Paul "hums" in confusion before looking at his figure and realizing he was naked to his last fiber. Getting red, he ends up asking for his clothes and Belle points to the wardrobe in the room. In less than 5 minutes he looked presentable to Belle. He had put on his black leather pants, his black shoes with a belt,his favorite red shirt buttoned to his penultimate slit with his back waistcoat and tied his hair in a ponytail with a red elastic.
-Better? – He asks rotating to his sides to get a better look at himself.
-Much. – Belle said while removing her hand and observing him. – Still look fancy in your clothes I see.
-You know me Belle, old habits die hard. So… - he trails off embarrassed.
-There´s no need to apologize, I already heard of what happened at the tavern. It was lucky you had enough will to leave the place. Besides you are and will always be welcome here. – Belle dismisses the apology with a smile.
- You´re too sweet to me Belle. – Paul smiles.
-And you completely crashed the party, you know?
-What party?
-Well, I had planned to throw you a surprise party because I knew you´d stop by to say hello. But then I heard you scream and came rushing to find you by the bridge. You hit your head pretty hard there. – Belle explains checking Paul´s injury.
-Where would I be without you? – Paul sighs. – And Maurice?
-He left for the Science Fair. He was so upset for not being able to celebrate your birthday with you.
-If he did, he´d lose the opportunity to show his new invention. The lumberjacks benefit from his creation, even if it´ll cause some unemployment. Maurice deserves the best. – Paul smiles. - Oh, did I have a book named Gulliver´s Travels with me?
-No, you had nothing with you. – Belle says.
Paul curses with the least heavy expression he thinks of and tried to get out of the room but turning to a direction with exposed light makes him back away.
-Damn, I had that book with me on the tavern. Monsieur François had given me that book. – Paul tells Belle.
-I´ll go get it myself. Speaking of books… - Belle goes outside and comes back some seconds later with a pocket book.
Paul takes the pocket book in his hands and opens it to see what it is.
-How did you…? – He inquires incredulously.
-You have never been good at keeping your things and your notebook is no exception. I went to your house and searched for it. Papa told me you would run out of pages to write on soon, so I thought you had to pass your time with something. – Belle sat at his side on Maurice´s bed.
Paul felt like it was routine, but he gives her a hug of appreciation anyways, which she returns.
-And happy late birthday. – She adds.
Paul would never trade his life for those moments with his best friend.
He lets her go and she heads to leave the room with a final goodbye. Paul opens the book and decides to add another note to it. He goes through his vests to find his trustworthy and forever-present pencil and takes it out of his pocket. But he stops when he is going to write about his anniversary to meditate about what the bartender had told him the previous night:
"My dear boy, you have to treasure every special day of your life, even if you think it means nothing to you."
He uses his mouth to hold his pencil and goes back to the first page of his notebook. Maybe, just maybe, he needed to feel nostalgic for that to happen. Like he had expected, his notes had been glued to the book by Belle. He finds his very first note and reads his somewhat distorted handwriting.
12th of January, 1774
My name is Paul Roy-Palomer I´m 7 years old. I like cake and books and living adventures with my sister, Belle. Well, my little sister is just 2 years old and the only things she can do are giggle and cry and smell bad. I live with my father, Maurice, an inventor in a cottage separated to the village by a bridge. I never knew my mother because when Belle was born, she grew ill and died. We visit her grave on all of her birthdays and lay roses and violets on her grave. Father says she always liked the roses.
This notebook was given to me as a present yesterday by him. He says that a man with an imagination like mine should always write down their ideas. I thank Monsieur François, the book shop owner for giving it to me. He and Father are friends and when I was 5, Belle and I stayed with him at the shop and he read us stories from his books. Belle slept mid-story everytime but I couldn´t fall asleep with the story unveiling inside my mind:
Histories of pirates looting His Majesty´s ship convoys, with a hook for their right hands and the intelligence of a band of foxes; or of the knight in shining armor slaying the dragons or fighting the evil wizard and marrying the king´s princess. Those are my favorite.
I´ve decided that I want to become a writer when I grow up. Then I can tell my own story to the village and my sister when she grows up. My father is pleased with the idea and supports it, giving me ideas for them while he constructs another invention (that ends up exploding again if I can add).
And I think that´s it for now. I´ll write something tomorrow.
Paul had forgotten what he felt when Maurice had bought the notebook to him. He may have thought it first as a girl´s thing because only they write diaries (explaining the verbal beat-down at the hands of Belle many years later) or excited for having something to write down his mind´s fruits. Scrambling through dozens of more notes left over the course of 5 more years, in which one by one the handwriting had been perfected, he spots a particular note and read it:
9th of August, 1779
I can´t believe what Father Maurice told me. I had arrived home and right after Belle came to give me a hug Maurice called me to the kitchen. He was nervous about what he was going to tell me and he played with his fingers constantly. I asked him if he was alright and he told me he wasn´t and that he had to confess a truth he had kept from me about my birth. He closed the door so Belle wouldn´t hear our conversation and sat in the same chair as before.
And then he goes on to tell about how he was riding Phillippe, his horse, one morning and when he had passed an oak with tendril-like branches he had heard crying. He had dismounted Phillippe and penetrated a forest of similar oaks until he had arrived in a clearing. In it´s middle had been a crib. When he took a closer to it, he had discovered a crying baby, wrapped in violet and golden cloth, with a note on him. He had refused to leave the baby alone in the forest so he had taken him home.
This had been back when Belle´s mother was alive and she had agreed to take care of the baby when Maurice explained it all to her. As she tended me, Maurice went to town to ask the people if they weren´t missing a baby or knew about a baby in the forest. No one did. He was new in town, without the crazy name in him, and Maurice came home that day with his initial hopes faded.
They discussed the situation and came to agree in taking care of the baby as they had wanted a son for a long time. This was the end of the story and when he ended it I asked him if I was that baby. He had nodded weakly and left momentarily to come back with a crib with old violet and gold cloth and still in it an old paper with the words "Take care of Paul Roy-Palomer, please. He is meant to do great things".
Many things happened at that moment: Lightning echoed outside of the house, illuminating the town, the trees and the shadow of a thin man; I cried, opened the kitchen door and ran to my room; and Maurice caught Belle by the door and with a look similar to mine. As I cried in my room, I could hear Belle sobbing and asking Maurice if all she had heard was true.
It´s been some time after that now, and while I write this note I wonder why my parents abandoned me. I have to find them. But how?
Paul inhaled to his fullest and let a loud sigh escape his mouth. He had forgotten all those details about that day but thanks to this refreshment, a flow of memories danced around his brain.
Paul had needed time to compose himself after the revelation and even when he came out of his room, he had found it difficult to talk to any of them. Belle seemed sad for him and angry with Maurice for keeping that truth from her. Maurice had tried to talk to him after that but Paul had turned him down and Maurice had respected that. One day, Paul was cooking with Maurice and the older man had asked Paul what he thought of him and Belle. He had the answer in the tip of his tongue: that they had been, were and would be his family.
Maurice asked him if that was enough for him to forgive his mistrust in his abilities to accept the truth, to which Paul had told him he had forgiven him since the day he found out. They had embraced each other and the event promptly tossed into the garbage.
A smile formed very slowly in Paul´s face. The next notes weren´t as interesting as the previous two. His meeting with Gaston, their heated arguments because of Paul´s beautiful sister (the family never told anyone the truth), Belle acceptance of having a pseudo-brother, her interest in books growing so much that made Paul deem her a bookworm, the festivals and parties that the town organized etc…
In the end Paul decides to delay his new note to sometime later and closed the pocket book, putting it in his pocket. Also thinking he was exaggerating the family´s hospitality he gets ready to leave. Yet in his way stood a man, with his features obscured by the thick blackness around him, making only the white pupils visible.
The shadow glares at the horrified Paul while leaning against the door and chuckles.
-Oh boy and Ah thought ye couldn´t be any more of a pussy cat. – He chastised.
-You talk? Who are you? – Paul yells backing against the wall facing the window.
-Na,na,na,na, don´t go away. Ah haven´t even gotten to the "beat some sense outta ya" part. – The shadow begged him with sarcasm. – As for what I am, Ah´m that little tiny voice that demands what you truly are to come out. I was FAMOUS, I was CONTENT, I had brought down th- *cough*,*cough*,*cough*-gimme a sec.
It walked inside the room and took some moments to look at the room, ignoring Paul´s fast breaths.
-What am I doin` here, fer fuck´s sake? Why this retarded town in the past? WHY? – The last question was meant for Paul and as he noticed that, he closed his eyes and muttered:
-It´s the hangover kicking in, it´s the hangover kicking in, it´s the ha…
CRACK!
Paul clutches his broken nose and moans in pain. Blood drops in his palms and runs down his arm in small streams. He looks incredulously to the shadow, who is rubbing his right hand closed in a fist with a white grin.
-Man that felt good. Released some of the steam of my system, lad. – It says happily. – Now to business.
Paul was freaking out at that moment. The shadow was real, it spoke, it punched and it was scarier by the second. Paul attempted to deliver a clumsy right hook to the shadow only to see it dodged by the latter and getting a knee in his stomach, making him fall and bend over.
-C´mon now mate, ya really wanna keep gettin` hurt? Let´s talk. – The shadow proposes by extended a hand to Paul, who stared at it and didn´t take it.
-Have it yer way then. SO! Where do we begin? – The shadow paces around the room, messing with the objects in it.
-Paul? Is everything alright? – Belle´s voice comes followed by the stairs creaking. Seconds later Belle comes in the room again.
-My, my, who´s this nice slice a` prettiness? – The shadow says sadistically and licking his lips.
Paul went behind the shadowand smiled at Belle.
-Paul, what happened to your nose! – Belle exclaims.
-I´m innocent, Judge. I didn´t mean it I swear it! - The shadow walks through Paul and drops on his knees at her left side, faking crying. Belle approaches Paul, ignoring the shadow, examines his nose carefully and leaves the room to get something.
The shadow rose from his knees and laughed so loud that Paul covered his ears to avoid getting deaf. The laughter was high-pitched and distorted, insane even.
-So much for the cleverest girl in town. Well Ah don´t care, all I want is her bein` clever… IN ME PANTS! – The shadow launches another round of laughter.
Paul was at the verge of kicking the thing out of the house when Belle came to him again and began to treat his nose.
-Anyways, listen up. We, yes, you and I, are stuck here. And Ah, just like ya, was visited by that woman y´see in your dreams. But she didn´t want to help me, oh no, she had to LOCK ME UP inside yer head so we could BOTH got our CHANCE OF FUCKING ASS SALVATION! Ye gotta get us out of here so we can go back to our time and I can take… Forget the last part. – The shadow says counting fingers and waving his hands at the last part.
-Belle. Can you see anything in front of the door? – Paul asks Belle.
Belle finishes treating Paul´s nose before looking back at the door and shaking her head in denial.
-Listen Paul, I believe last night the party gave you a real bad time. You´re seeing things, you cannot stand the sunlight and you´re still shaking. Today you should spend the day here and at night I´ll walk you home. – She says.
-I don´t….
-Oh Paul you´ve lived here for most of your life, you are always welcome to visit us and spend nights with. Besides I wouldn´t be a good sister if I allowed you to remain like that. – Belle tells him.
-To me you´ll always be my good and adorable sister, Belle. – Paul smiles while pulling her into another hug.
Belle returns it too and the shadow, unfazed by this, mouths the words "Bang her" to an irritated Paul.
-I like ta play the third wheel in this moments but I gotta scram. And BTW, if we´re working together ye should know that me name is Vincent. – The shadow then turns flashes out of existence.
Paul didn´t know what was going on. And he had that hunch that trouble was close to go down for real.