Once, there was a castle.
Once, there was a prince.
Then, there was the beast.
It had a beautiful beginning, that turned rancid, as so many stories do.
Drops hung from a chandelier, glass from over the world. Rich red drapes hung over the windows, where a storm raged outside. Beautiful dancers waltzed, as a prince sat in his throne, eyeing them as if they were ripe fruits.
To him, they were.
Guests, lords, ladies, mingled and drank rich red wines. They talked of nothing but parties, their pathetic lives.
Far down in the village, poor folk huddled around fires, wishing for something more. Something like what the prince had. A young woman stood by the well, and looked towards the castle.
She saw how much fun the rich had, and saw the pain of her people. And she wished with all heart that someone could teach this prince what he was doing.
That he was cruel.
That he would never find love.
Far away, a woman heard. But this was no ordinary woman. Her hands flowed with magic, the magic of her realm. She threaded golden strands together and watched the world through her mirror.
She was the young woman and heard her wish. And she saw the prince and saw how cruel he was. The Enchantress pulled on a dark cloak and weathered her features.
Her hands become wrinkly, her face small, her back hunched. She walked towards the castle door and knocked. A man opened the door, and all the talk stopped.
"Sir, I am a weary traveler. Please, may I rest here?"
He laughed at her, and the other guest followed in suit. "You?" he said with scorn. And The Enchantress saw that his beauty, his looks, were the only pretty thing about him.
Still, she felt a spark of pity for this man. "I would warn you not to judge beauty by looks," she said softly.
"I would warn you, tell you to leave," countered the prince. "You have no place here." The woman nodded.
She lifted her cloak, and let the beauty flow back through her. It was truly a beautiful sight. Her body glowed, and she floated into the air.
The prince begged the Enchantress for forgiveness, but he was too late. She thrust her hand outwards, and the prince became a monster.
The lords and ladies were whisked away. And the tall servant become a candle. The boy and his mother become tea pots and cups, and the grandfatherly servant became a clock. The Enchantress looked down at her hand.
In it, was a red rose, fresh as dawn. She looked into the eyes of the beast, which were still blue. "When the petals of this rose fall, you shall all be forever cursed."
The rose flew towards the man, the shattered glass from the party came towards the rose, encircling it in a protection.
And she swept away into the night.