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Beauty is Beast
Prologue
A Tale as old as Time.
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Fell into despair
Until the last petal fell
Mark by these words
Love that cannot prevail
Beauty is Beast
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Wiltshire, England
June 15th, 1729
A storm had been raging on that fateful night. Rain pelted in diagonal strokes, lightening lit up the night sky, villagers plundered with the reckless hysteria of trepidation. The grass was soaked from the Angel's tears, and not one single inch of the earth, it seemed, did not receive the thunderous blow of the destructive touch of liquid electricity. The town's folk lied awake through the resounding battle of the skies, having found no comfort in sleeping at all. Hypnos was not kind that night. Through the storm, unbeknownst to all, a solidary figure had emerged. And, out of all the chaos, that one drifter remained calm.
She was an old woman with ancient skin and wrinkles of trial and error. Her hair was peppered grey with bone-white streaks; even her clothing was in remarkably bad condition. Teeth as yellow as a decaying daisy, and long finger nails that could scratch with one grazing touch. She was condemned to walk the earth beneath a tattered, old cloak with no real welcome. Yet, despite all the claim of forgetfulness, she carried on.
Whilst she pushed through the galling winds, a cold chill began to settle in the core of her bones. Her village had welcome the same forceful winds ages ago. It had been pillaged until nothing remained. Women were raped, children and young girls sold as trophies of a victory that would never last. Memories of the occasion still lingered fresh inside her mind. It had been a peaceful time until they came, The Cursed Ones. She needed refuge, but none came. The woman was hideously disfigured, and it took a kind heart to provide shelter to a beastly deity like her. Yet, though convinced of the human race's inability to see past the ugly, she treaded on until her legs carried her to a Manor door. Towering over her like giant trees, the doors of the beautiful home accommodated more than she could ever hope. Light flickered beyond the windows, and for first time in years, she felt an incredible surge of hope and an inkling of rejuvenation.
This is where her guide has lead her and this is where she would stay.
Someone desperately needed her help, and if things went accordingly, she would be able to provide such a service. If only they would graciously open up their doors and allow her passage. Then, she could extend her gratitude one last time. An imminent end was near, and feared it soon would be her last breath.
Her hands clenched her breast, and she let out a resounding sigh.
Deep in the chasm of her mind and heart, she knew it was fruitless. To welcome the likes of her was an outrageous claim. The weather, as if being the bearer of bad news, advised against it, but she carried on with her plans. With a tentative hand, she wrapped her long, boney fingers around the door handle and gave it good three raps. Her presence was acknowledged instantaneously.
An old gentlemen answered the door. His white hair was combed back and he wore the attire of a butler. Pushing up his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose, he greeted her.
"Good evening," he bid her. "May I ask what a… woman of your status is roaming about the dark streets of Wiltshire?"
She remained silent for a moment before speaking. "I came for sanctuary."
"You think that this estate can offer you such a thing?" asked the butler-man. "I think highly unlikely. This is a residential dwelling and the Lord and lady do not offer such a thing to strangers. You ought to try the church down the street. I am certain they would be able to offer the accommodations you ask for."
The old woman shook her head slowly, careful to keep her face hidden underneath her cloak. "I do not seek sanctuary from a church. If I wanted that, I would have gone there first, hmm?"
"Then," the man treaded with measured ease," what exactly do you want?"
"I want what we all seek."
Obviously, her choice of words was doing little to persuade the man to let her in. The moment chose itself. A young woman came bustling down the hall, her night gown caressing her floor as it licked her bare feet. She looked busy and anxious about something the woman could not place. For someone so young, she would have easily guessed that it had something to do with a newborn child. Stopping just several feet away, she regarded their guest with a mix of curiosity and discomfort. Distrust lit up like lightening within her azure eyes.
"Gaëtan, who is this woman?" she asked, her voice a soft whisper in the moonlit sky.
"M'lady," he spoke to her warningly. "What on earth are you doing out of your chambers. You ought to be nursing your son."
"He is asleep," she stated rather sharply. "I finished feeding him and noticed a terrible draft coming from the loft and had to make sure the wards were up. They are up, are they not?"
"Of course, M'lady."
She gave him a pleasant smile before turning back to the old woman. "Now, forgive my rudeness. We do not usually receive guests so late at night. May I ask what business do you have with us?"
"I came for sanctuary," the old woman murmured softly. "I hear that this refuge allows all who seek passage entrance. Am I not welcomed into your home?"
"Who are you?" she narrowed her eyes instantly, her voice sharp as a knife. "For such insolence so late at night! Why, I should report you to the authorities!"
"What good will come if you do that?" she giggled atrociously. The old woman stepped forward until her nose barely grazed the welcoming hall of her Lady's beloved home. She could feel the warmth radiating from within the large estate, feel the warmth and happiness of the arrival of her child. In the distance, he slept peacefully in his bassinet. A whirl of magic surrounded him. "Very interesting," she murmured to herself. "To ward up the Grand Hall and your child's crib. Why, it was as if you were warned beforehand of my arrival."
"What is interesting?" the Lady asked. "I demand you to leave my home this instant! You have caused nothing but trouble since you have arrived and- "
She was stumped into dead silence. For the old woman had removed the hood of her cloak and revealed what lied underneath.
The woman had been burned to the point of unrecognition; taunt, marbled skin stretched across her cranium, her eyes appeared to sink deep within the sockets, and there was no skin to produce any inkling of a smile or frown. Her cheeks had been hollowed out, her neck elongated with a collarbone that protruded severely underneath the strain of her own skin. There were several grotesque markings that decorated her once youthful skin; dark, ugly remnants of what she had lived through, and more. The Lady held her breath, astonished by the ugliness that the woman had been able to keep hidden. Disgusted, mortified, and fearful for her family, she took a step back but was immediately captured by the woman's grip. She could not move and remained helpless to her disgusting face.
"What, monstrous beast!" she hissed, trying desperately to remove herself from the woman's impenetrable grip. "Release me, you foul ogre! Release me and return to the pit from whence you came!"
"How dare you call me a beast when I have only asked you for sanctuary!" remarked the woman coldly. "A simple request! It says a lot about a character when you cannot even open up your home to the tragic and deserving of travelers. You, my dear, are the beast, not I."
The woman flourished into a stunning example of grandeur and beauty. No longer was she the freak of nature as her alias was; she was now in her true form.
An enchantress with dark brown hair stood before her, a smile forming on her lips as her hand moved behind her and produced a small coin purse. Inside, the Lady feared what she possessed within the old, tattered thing. She kept up her guard.
"For your noncompliance to my request, I shall place a burden upon your family." she murmured these words before reaching a hand into her purse and producing a small amount of shimmering powder. With a wicked grin, she met the Lady's eye and whispered," In ten years' time a tragedy will strike this home. The, you will know the true meaning of Beast. Heed this warning, however. There is a way to take away what has been given. It is up to you to figure it out."
With that, she blew on powder and watched gleefully as the Lady fell into a deep, forgetful slumber. In her hand, was a bud on the whispers of budding.
Upon the exchange of the curse that has plagued her, the old woman fell onto the door step, presumed dead by the given blossom.