"Grandma?" I asked. She sat in her usual chair. Her hair had all turned white, her skin had lost its glow of youth, and her eyes held misery and happiness. She used to be a beauty in her youth, now she was just my grandma. She always told the best stories.
"Grandmere?" I asked again. I saw her stir and I got excited. She opened her eyes slowly.
"Oh, my little beauty, why are you here?" she said with a sleepy gaze.
"Father dropped me off. He said he had to pick up Hannah and Gracie from a slumber party." I said. Father always dropped me off at grandmas while he drove my sisters places. I was never invited to go with because I was so young. This never bothered me because I got to spend time with grandma.
"Well what story should I tell you this time?" my grandmother was famous for her stories. Each one better than the next. Each one she would swear was true. I believed when I was younger, but now going on thirteen, I began to realize what they really were, just old fairy tales.
"I don't know, just pick one." I said excitedly.
"Well how 'bout the one with the girl with the long hair?" she asked.
"No I've heard that one a million times grandma!" I said
"Okay maybe the one about the sleeping girl?" She asked this time sitting up a little bit, preparing herself.
"No not that one either!" I wined.
"Well what do you want to hear child?" she asked, her eyes looking down on me kindly.
"Don't you know any new stories? Any stories I have never heard?" I asked.
" All right, but I don't think this one has a happy ending," she tells me carefully.
"Oh that's okay, just as long as you're telling it," I answered calmly.
"Alright here it goes; along time ago, on these lands stood a castle. In this castle lived a very rich and powerful family. This family was brilliant, but selfish. They never shared what they owned to all the poor in the land." My grandmother stopped to make herself more comfortable. I was sitting on the floor my eyes glued to her mouth. Watching the words come out and make pretty pictures.
"Okay well, one evening the family (which consisted of a couple and their 13 year old son) and the servants were seated in the main hall when a stable boy rushed into the room tell the family that he had an important message for the father and mother. The message said the neighboring kingdom needed their help on a matter. Even though the family was selfish, they still understood that turning down a neighboring kingdom meant war. The parents left, leaving their son in the hands of the servants. No one really knows what happened, but on the way home the parents were killed." I sucked in my breath. Shocked a little, grandma's stories weren't usually this dark
"Do you want me to stop child?" she asked, her eyes full of worry.
"No, please continue." I answered.
"The couples son was devastated. Also partly scared that he had to rule. Three years later, the boy had grown into a handsome man. He's rulings were fair and just, but his heart was cold. He found no love, but even if he did he didn't want it. He thought it was stupid emotion, better to be left for the poets and musicians than him."
"Oh grandma! How horrible!" I interrupted.
"How so little beauty?" she answered kindly, she was used to my interruptions.
"To never love! To swear off love, how could any one wish that?"
"He did, and he was unhappy. On one winter's night, the temperature dropped. The prince was tucked away in the warmth of his chair in glow of the fireside. He and the servants heard a knock on the door. The servants opened the doors to let in a frail old woman. Her back was hunched over and her hair fell well past her knees. Her fingers were long and bony. Her nose was large and stuck out. To the least of it the prince was repulsed by her appearance. His first look was disgust. Than pure hate when he heard her ask something.
"Ask what Grandmother?"
"Well, no one really knows child, she said it so softly and only to the prince, but what ever it was upset the prince so. He called to his guards and ordered them to throw her out. Suddenly the old woman stood straight, her hair turnend black. Her nose grew smaller. Her eyes glowed with hate and anger. 'Fool' said she 'how dare you insult me. Your heart is cold as are your eyes! You are nothing more than a beast!' she stopped at that and looked at the cowering man. An idea struck her. 'In fact to teach you love, you will become a beast!' her voice high among the walls and shivering servants. Suddenly the servants heard a high scream coming from the prince. Everything about him was changing. His hands into claws, his teeth into fangs. The servants than began to scream and run from the castle. The enchantress fixed her eyes on the poor prince-or beast now. Her voice high again 'you will remain in this form until a woman can see past your true form, crack your icy heart and teach you to love and be loved. Good luck young man. Find love.' With that she laughed and raised her hands and disappeared in a shower of sparks." Finished my grandmother.
"B-but grandma, what happened to the prince? Did he find love?" I asked quickly. I didn't want to story to end.
"No one knows, perhaps he's still there living in a nightmare. In nightmares, it becomes all too real, and then you lose the ability to tell the difference between what's real and what's not. … And your fears become alive. The castle was never seen again; trees of the great forest covered it. Whether he lives now or not, I cannot say. But I can say this story in true!" she said quickly as my father walked threw the door.
"C'mon my princess," he said. "Your sisters are waiting."
"Alright" I said quickly. "Good-bye grandma!"
"Good-bye my little beauty, I love you." She answered sadly, like she wanted me to stay.
"I love you too!" I said hastily, as my father rushed me out the door.
I got into the car and sat next to my two gossiping sisters. As my father drove away, I looked out the window at my grandmother's house with the rose bushes in the front. I leaned my head on the cold glass of the window and retraced the story about the prince in my mind. That was the last time I saw my grandmother.
As I grew older I began to realize how much affection my father bestowed upon me, and very little to my sisters. They were beautiful in their own rights, but not like me. My hair was a warm golden color; their hair was a soft curly brown. Their eyes were brown but mine changed from green to blue on my mood. They were tall and thin, while I was short and curvy. They always pointed that out of course, that I was short. They teased and poked me relentlessly, always trying to make up for the fact that I was father's favorite.
"Petite Belle," they would call in mock tones, copying what my father said earlier. I had known why father liked me best and so did they, forI resembled our dead mother. Father was madly in love with her and was devastated when she died. Than five years later, so did Grandmother. My sisters never liked grandmother, but I did. They were ruthless, telling me horrible ways in which she died making it so hard to work. They never did any work, it was only I who made the meals, cleaned the rooms and wash the floors. Me.
I loved my father but sometimes he made the wrong choices. He was never a really good businessman. He always left us, to go on 'business' trips, each time coming back with less and less money. Every time he left, my sisters would become cruel, evil queens, using me as their slave. Every chore I did, every foot I rubbed, every time I cried in my room, I thought of my grandmother's stories. I thought how I was like Cinderella, or I pretended I was Rapunzel, locked in the tower. Every time my father left, they would lock me in my room without food or water. I would read, hours upon hours' books. Books about everything. Father would always bring me back a book from his journeys. I had millions or maybe billions of books. They were my friends, my comfort in the hard times of which I lived.
Father lost a rather large sum of money. We were selling off stuff to repay all of his debts. My sisters wailed and screamed when father told them he would have to take away their credit cards and allowance; he just couldn't pay for it anymore. He than got a call from his 'business partner' in a major city, telling him he could make all the money back, plus have money left over after he repaid the debts. He left straight away, but asked my sisters and my self what we wanted, for he was going to bring us back presents.
My sisters asked for jewels and furs. I asked for a rose bush. My sister sneered at my request, "rose bush?" said. "Are you planning a garden?" they laughed. They were not the best with insults, but it still hurt because they were implying I wouldn't be able to. Father smiled at me kindly and kissed my head. He left.
We didn't see him for two weeks.
Father had a habit of staying late wherever he was, a day or two. Not fourteen. I began to get nervous around the sixth day; by the tenth even my sister's were worried. They no longer locked me in my room or ordered me around. They just sat by the window and looked out, jumping up whenever some one would pass the house. I wondered if they were worried about father or their precious things he would bring. I didn't know, but I didn't want to know either.
Father stumbled in at three in the morning on the fourteenth day. He looked tired and worn. In his hands he carried a burlap bag and an envelope. We stood there staring at him, while he stared at us; more at me then them. He opened his mouth and licked his lips, looked straight into my eyes and said, "Looks like you've done it Beauty, you've ruined me!" we stared at him, shocked by what he said. My sisters didn't know whether to be happy or confused, their faces twisted with so many emotions at once. My face was blank, refusing to take in what ever he said. He walked into the living room and sat on the chair. "Come here children, now, all of you" we quickly entered the room and sat on the sofa. "I have something important to tell you," he said at last after a brief pause.
"What papa?" I asked carefully. His face looked so sad when he looked at me; his eyes were filled with sorrow.
"My children, I'm going to die in a few days,"
We stared at him in wonder, how could that be? He looked perfectly well, maybe a little tired but other than that he looked fine. He pulled opened the burlap bag. In his hand was a rose, a beautiful red rose that was just losing a petal.
The castle was big. No big wasn't the word maybe; gigantic would be a better. It loomed over the trees, spreading over the sky; it looked like it could reach the heavens. And I just stood there dumb founded by it, the castle, and my future nightmare. The stone was a cold grey, the gardens were lush and full, a contrast to such a gloomy, doom place. I took my steps carefully; afraid I would loss my nerve before I got to the door. The door. The door was huge too. It was like the castle itself, covered in vines and ivy. I meekly lifted my hand to the door and knocked three times.
Nothing happened.
I knocked again, but still nothing happened. I tried the doorknob and pushed open the heavy door. The door opened with a creak and I slipped in. It shut with a slam. I looked around the cold hall. It was grand and beautiful, yet it seemed sad and lonely, if a hall could have feelings. The grand staircase was dusty and all the candles were out. It was just as father described it. I saw three doors to my left and two doors to my right. I went left, as father said he did. I opened the first door.
I had to suppress my scream. He stood there, his back to me. He was just as father described him. Tall, his hair (or was it a mane?) was long and so black it was almost blue. He dressed like a noble man, with navy blues and blacks. He looked bleak and depressed. He just stared into the fire, not turning around to look at me, just staring at the fire. Even though he wasn't looking at me, I knew he knew I was there. I just was hoping I was the person he was wanting.
Father had forbid me to go; he said he would and face my mistake for the rose. Whatever it would be. After he had told us his story, he left to sleep before he made his journey back to the castle. He was already feeling ill, he said. My sisters had turned on me in an instant, telling me it was all my fault that father was going to die. They had called me names, and hit me for being a fool, and then they too went to get sleep, thinking it would be better in the morning. I was left on the floor sobbing and bleeding. I had heard father say that the beast only wanted father to come back for his payment, whatever that might be. I made up my mind not to disgrace my family any longer. I packed my bag with food and left the house. I felt foolish and scared, but I knew I couldn't go back. I caused my father pain by just looking at me because of how I looked and I caused my sisters pain by how my father looked at me. So I took one last look at my house, my home, my prison and set off in search for my death or so I thought.
He turned around slowly, his eyes never leaving the fire until the last possible moment. When he did look at me, I drew back. His eyes were powerful and strange. Within them held anger and hatred but also sadness. He scared me so just by looking at me with his eyes. He finally spoke, "you are- not- who I was expecting." His voice was deep and rather hoarse, like he hadn't used it in a while. His head was like a lions', and his hands were like claws, very, very,sharpclaws. "Well?" he said looking at the fire again. I felt like he was treating me like a child who needed a scolding but had to admit to the crime first. I spoke very quietly, "I-I have c-come in my f-father's s-stead, for it was the rose for me that made him come in the f-first." I said frightened. He didn't look up. I realized I was growing irritated with him. Didn't he realize what I just said? Didn't he want to give the punishment out?
"Well?" I asked with a hint of sarcasms.
"Well what?" he asked, his eyes turning towards me.
"Well, are you not going to e-eat me or k-kill me?" I asked, surprised by my own frankness. He looked appalled.
"Eat you? Heavens no, why would I want to eat a young girl?" I felt foolish again, I didn't like the conversation.
"Why did you want my father to come then?" I was very confused.
"To make his payment, he slept in one of my rooms and dined in my hall. He then had the nerve to steal one of my roses and ruin my garden. For his payment would have been to stay here forever and fix what was broken, but I see you come instead?" his eyes looked me up and down, it was bizarre.
"You mean you wouldn't have killed him?" I asked in disbelief.
"No, I wasn't even expecting him to come back," he said softly looking down at the fire. He seemed uncomfortable with me staring at him like I with him.
"So I came for nothing?" I asked quietly, afraid.
"No you came for your honor and to upkeep your honor you must stay."
"For how long?" I asked again afraid I would not like the answer.
"Forever, until you fix what is broken." He said softly and deadly, not looking at me. I tried to hold back my tears that I knew were already streaming down my face.
"Where will I stay?" I said meekly. The fear was just too great to argue.
"When you exit this room, the candles on the far wall will come alight, follow them and you will reach your destination." He spoke now louder and with authority, as if I would dare him.
"Yes milord," I was still staring at him, watching him look into the fire.
"What are you looking at?" he cried out suddenly, I jumped back terrified. "Have you come to stare at me too? Am I that ugly? GET OUT!" he screamed. I turned on my heel and ran out the door. It slammed behind me.
Just as he said the candles lit up. I followed them, praying this wasn't a trap. The hall ways were wide, but the ceilings were full of cobwebs. I sobbed into my hands, thinking I would never be free to see my family again, even if I was to die, I knew it was with purpose. Now I saw that Iran away for nothing. The beast was clever speaking of honor, but I thought I could out smart him some how. And what was broken, father didn't speak of breaking anything? The candles lead up staircase after staircase. Each step was covered with dust. I was beginning to think I was being lead in circles (very dirty circles), when the candles stopped at a door. It loomed over me, I was afraid to open it. When I did, it was beautiful.
Everyday I would wake up in a bed that was too big just for me. I would eat a meal that was too large for me. And I would be dressed in gowns that were too pretty for me. Everyday I would walk in the gardens, sometimes the beast would join me. He was considerate and good company, if not a bit reserved. There were no more outbursts about his appearance or about how long I was to stay. He would watch me when he thought I wasn't looking. His glances were not predatory like others at home, but more in fascination. When he did speak to me, he spoke of the garden. "Look there- the rose is about to bloom"he loved-if he could love- roses more than anything else. The roses were beautiful; the colors were vivid and alive. They were honestly the most colorful things in the area.
One of the strange things about the castle was that there were no mirrors. None. I looked in every room that opened for me. There were none in my room, or in the beast's drawing room. There were streams and smalls ponds on the beast's estate but both were cloudy, not reflective. I felt brave one day and asked him.
"Beast?" my voice didn't shake anymore when I called for him. I was doing this a lot, calling him. The castle was too lonely for my taste.
"Yes?" came his gruff replay. He turned to look at me from where we stood in the garden. The sun was just setting, framing the flowers in a lovely pink and orange color.
"Why are there no mirrors?" I asked timidly. He looked confused at first, but he suddenly started a small laugh, which to me sounded like a bark if anything.
"I would think you would have realized, you are quite clever sometimes," he said. I knew he was teasing me. "Well, I don't feellike being clever right now." I stated, and to my surprise he let out another bark of laugher. He began to walk and I had to run to keep up. "I do not like my appearance, it makes me angry, and so I do not look. Why do you ask?" he looked at me sideways. I struggled for an answer. "Maybe I was just curious?" I asked him, and I got the response I wanted, he laughed. "You are always curious," he was suddenly serious, "would you like a mirror? There is no one but me to look at you." I blushed for no reason.
My daysbegan to pass in a companionable silent.
In the Mornings there was always food besides my bed. And at noon, there was food waiting at my door. But at night I went to the dining hall, where I would sit across from Beast at on a long table and eat a grand meal, in which he would not eat. Than I would say my good nights and go up the many staircases (there seemed to be less stairs when I was tired) to my warm bed, that had been already turned down. And I would fall into a delicious, dreamless sleep.
One morning I awoke and put on a simpler dress (if there were any) and began to clean the castle. Dust filled the air as I worked. After a few weeks the cobwebs had all gone and there was not a speck of dust left on the floor. The funny thing about the castle was once I cleaned something once, it stayed clean. It was as if invisible hands took over my job when I finished. The beast never came around when I cleaned.
Each day was lovelier than the next, until one morning. I awoke to the dim light thrown across my walls. I sat up in my warm bed to look out the window. The rain poured down like a waterfall. "Oh," I said aloud, this would mean I was not to take a walk in the garden. I ate slowly and dressed just as slow. When I thought I looked pleasing enough (for there were still no mirrors) for the beast (I did not want to know why I felt the need to look good in his eyes). I ran out of my room to the hall way and down the many flights of stairs. My dress was a light blue color that hugged my chest tight, but flowed freely to my feet. I skipped (I never skipped at home, my sisters never allowed it) the hallways to where I knew the beast was waiting patiently in his sitting room. I knocked on the door softly and opened it. The Beast stood with his back to me, looking out the window. "It's raining" he said softly. He still did not look at me, but I knew he was waiting for me to speak. "Yes it is, it's rather pretty, is it not?" I asked coming to stand at his side. Before I couldn't stand to be in the same room, now we were almost touching. He looked down briefly at me then out the window again. "I have always found the rain depressing and cold." He said with a hint of sadness. I looked up at him in amazement. He caught my look and raised his hairy eyebrows at me. "How can you not like the rain?" I said with a sigh. "I mean look at it, it makes everything clean," I added as a side note to him. He chuckled, "You do like things when they are clean." I giggled, "But not only that, rain gives life. Nature cannot live without it. Without rain, the roses would die," I put my hand against the cool glass. He snorted, "I do not see it like that," he said gruffly. I sighed and leaned over so that my forehead touched the cool glass, "then watch the rain, Beast, for if you look close enough you are sure to see it."
Over the months that I stayed with the Beast I began to appreciate silence, while he began to embrace noise. He had lived in his castle for years with out any companionship, he learned to listen in the silence. I loved to shout and sing to him, watching as he would lower his head shyly.
"Mon ami! Sing with me!" I cried out one evening in the garden. The Beast stood with his back to me, observing the stars swirl above. He had listened when I sang, laughing when I forgot words or was off key, but he never offered to sing along. He glanced over his shoulder at me. I sat beneath one of the trees of the garden, watching him as he watched the sky. "You know very well, little one, I do not sing," he sighed. I watched his shoulders slump forward. "Beast! Why? To sing is a glorious thing!" I cried loudly. My statement echoed across the empty court yard, bouncing along the walls. The Beast threw back his mane of black hair, his roar of a laugh filling the air with the wonderful noise.
"Dear child, Everything to you is a glorious thing!" he laughed merrily now. I smiled at him quietly. "I mean, you find joy in cleaning, in the rain, in a simple rose! You see it all as a gift" he stopped then, looking at me like I was a mystery. I laughed at him then, "Tell me then, dear Beast, do you not see everything as a gift?" He turned sober suddenly, his voice quiet, "I used to see it like that, but then the world played a cruel trick on me" I sat and watched him turn away from me to resume star gazing.