Disclaimer: I don't own The Beauty and the Beast and sadly I don't think I ever will!
A kind of magic1 – A simple kind of life
The boy sat on the stool in front of the old grandpiano. Lately, he had been feeling more and more alone and the music he could produce always made him feel better, almost like he wasn't alone in that giant mansion.
But he was. He wished he could leave, he had been so tempted to do it, so many times, but he knew they couldn't see his face. His face had to be hidden. Always. Even when his father came by to visit him, to bring him food and other supplies, he never took the mask off. He was so used to wearing it… he kept it on most of the time, even if for anyone else such a thing would be impossible to do. He didn't know what the trouble with his face was; he didn't have scars or burns or anything of the sort on it, so there must have been something unusual with his features.
He knew the people he once called family couldn't stand the sight of him and his face and he felt terrible thinking about it. He wondered why, what he had done to deserve to be treated like a madman, avoided by everyone, hiding all the time.
As years went by, his father started coming more and more rarely, bringing everytime more and more things with him. The boy, now a young man, thought it was because the only parent he had left was disgusted by him and wanted to see him as little as he could.
So many years alone, the young man had become an amazing piano player. He could play everything, he could play for several hours without getting tired, he didn't mind calloused hands. Usually, when his father asked him what he wanted as a birthday present, he'd ask for new music sheets. Every year the sheets were more complicated to read, fuller of notes, and he owned a huge collection. Beethoven, Mozart, Tchaikovsky, Schuman, Strauss, Liszt… he knew lots of pieces by heart.
He also liked reading: time went by so quickly when he let himself be entranced by someone else's story. There was a huge bookcase in one of the rooms of the house and he had read lots of those books.
The best thing he "owned", though, was a stray dog that had once wandered into the garden and stopped there with him ever since. The dog, renamed by him Chopin, after one of his favorite composers, almost made him feel like he had a real friend.
Almost.
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Isabel left home and started walking down the road, headed toward the Portkeynes library. She loved Saturdays, because she had a lot of time to herself and she could read for as long as she wished, sitting comfortably in the reading room of the library. That day was no different: she planned on spending the morning in there, relaxing and losing herself in the life of someone else, which would undoubtedly be more interesting than her own.
She was still having some troubles to feel at ease in the new town. New for her, at least: Portkeynes was about three hundred years old and most of the people in town seemed to be elderly ladies and middle-aged men and women. There weren't many young people and the ones who lived there often complained that there was nothing to do in Portkeynes.
Isabel smiled at one of her neighbours, Mrs. Radcliffe, as she walked by her detached house.
"Hello, Isabel! How are you doing today?" the dark-haired woman in her late forties asked.
"I'm doing just fine, thanks. How are you and your family, Mrs. Radcliffe?" Isabel politely asked back.
"Oh, you know, the usual. Chuck's on a business trip and the kids are okay."
The kids, Tom and Tess Radcliffe, were twins and the same age as Isabel, nineteen. She had only met Tess a couple of times, while Tom always seemed eager to show her around if she needed something. "Tell them I say hi!"
"I will! Have a good day!"
"You too!"
Isabel waved at Mrs. Radcliffe before walking down the street. When she finally entered the old, beautiful building that now served as a library, she smiled. She had always felt more comfortable around fictional folks than common people and she wasn't sure why. Everything about them was reassuring, she guessed.
She had been reading Spoon River Anthology for less than half an hour, when someone interrupted her: "Isabel!"
She looked up and found herself staring into Tom Radcliffe's dark eyes: "Hi, Tom…"
"Hey! My mom said you were probably coming to the library, I thought I'd reach you." He said, not bothering to lower his voice.
"Are you looking for a particular novel or just-"
Tom cut her off: "No, reading isn't really my kind of thing. I just wanted to talk to you. My sister and I are throwing a party tomorrow night, wanna come?"
Isabel hesitated. She wasn't much of a social person and she disliked parties strongly. "I don't know…"
"Come on, it'll be fun! You've been in Portkeynes for, what, a month? And you need to get acquainted to more people, including my friends!"
He sounded so enthusiastic that Isabel had to give in. "Alright, I'll come."
"Great!" Tom smiled, showing off his perfect teeth. He wasn't bad to look at, Isabel had to admit, with his dark hair and intense eyes, but she didn't like him for some reason. Sometimes when he looked at her she felt so uncomfortable… "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah, see you."
Isabel watched Tom leave the room before focusing again on her beloved book. She didn't want to think about anyone but the many different characters created by the pure genius that was Edgar Lee Masters.