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A/N: A random short story that came to mind. It may progress later but I am not giving a time limit. Reviews are appreciated I do so love readers thoughts its always intriguing of course. Anyways, here is my little, weird piece a darker take on… well… I'm sure you will figure it out. And yes, I love the original so this isn't a pun against it or anything.
BEAUTY
Tales as old as time
Songs not always rhymes
'Beauty' enslaved to the Beast
She dips a finger into the water creating ripples that spread out before her. Ring after ring follow. The silken threads of her lavender gown billows in the soft breeze and kisses her pale, bare shoulders. But the tears haven't stopped as they trickle down her face. One. Two. Three.
The long, pale curls of her hair have unraveled from its former elegance. The freesias in her hair have shriveled and have dismantled, prey to the blackberry brambles that just barely allowed her passage from the woodland behind her. The thorns had left their bloody imprint on her ivory, porcelain skin. Her flesh once as perfect as a china doll is marred with thin, crimson veins that have stained the lace and embroidery along the bodice of her dress made from the bare hands of those in servitude who have never seen daylight.
Made friends.
She clenches one hand around the stem of the single, blood-red rose left from her imprisonment. Moonlight traces the decadent, floral petals of a flower she once cherished as its semblance of eternal love. The feeling now was simply foreign to her when it came to the mention of…
Him.
He did not have a name. He was a face. A face of sharp contours and stained red lips that devoured and bewitched the naïve. Eyes made of out of the purest form of silver that had scorched many souls and tortured hers. She hadn't let them ensnare her into the deathly clutches that was Him. If it was even a Him.
Hair as black as a ravens wing.
Eyes like quicksilver.
The strength of a thousand men.
And a face like a dark angel.
She had not yet known what he was. But he was not of this world. He'd appeared before her as an otherworldly being far from any man she'd ever laid eyes on. From those who walked his castle bowed on the grounds before his presence. Among them women fell pray to his glamour. In turn he'd left a trail of broken hearts; souless beings they succumbed to. Like pieces of glass. Beautiful, fragile things he'd soon grown bored of until they'd wasted to wraiths. They'd been left to dwell as forlorn lost souls for the rest of their days.
But now, finally, it was over. She hadn't become one of them. She'd made her escape and swift. Even with this single, taste of freedom she knew he would send out his consorts. The creatures could sniff out her essence.
But she vowed the fight would be far from over.
He could find her. Caress her with a name she'd come to loathe: Beauty. He could beat her into submission. He could try to break her like the others. But even with her last dying breath she would hate him.
One thing was for certain as she heard the sounds of hooves thundering closer.
Closer.
Ever close.
She would never give out her heart to be trapped in the hands of the true, inhumane monster she knew and feared.
The Beast.