A quiet night, a lonely wooden house, a dim yellow glow escaping its windows. Inside there be a newlywed couple, sitting on the chair she was sewing a little woollen glove, fit for a tiny hand. He was sitting on the bed, removing his shirt, lighting his pipe as he looked over his shoulder to the fireplace, yet in front was a wooden crib. He stood up and took three light steps towards the wooden crib, peered in, a bright smile dawned his face.
He called quietly: "Elizabeth, come look." A warm smile was brought to her face as well, she gracefully took four steps towards the wooden crib and replied calmly:
"She's beautiful isn't she? You know Hector, we've still to pick a name for her..." He turned and wrapped his arm around his lass, as they were both peering into the crib, gazing upon a baby girl. He answered:
"What if we call her M-? " he was interrupted by the shattering of wood behind his back, the wooden door shattered upon the floor as the cold wind pushed itself inside, blowing out the candle.
No longer the small wooden house emits a warm yellow glow. A figure stands before the newlywed couple, the child cries, and the mysterious figure steps into the wooden house, the man and woman lose their breath, they cannot scream as they gaze upon the fur covered monster before them. The sharp claws, the blue hate filled eyes, the bloody teeth. He pushed her away from the crib as the child cried, the monster lunged, pushing the man and shattering the crib, yet the cries persist, the monster with one swift bite to the neck rips out his throat. The blood gushes out as the monster's claws tear into the man's chest, pulling it apart uncovering the organs inside, the beast does not stop there. It bashes against the dead man spattering him upon the wooden floor, spraying his wife with his own blood until the monster stops, the cry persists.
There she stands, shaking, looking at the defiled corpse as the monster raises slowly, howling as its eyes meet with the woman. Another howl heard across the land, the monster lunges at the woman beating her down, breaking the table she stood in front of. She desperately battles with the monster, managing to get a good punch to its throat, yet no use. The monster digs into her shoulder with the sharp claws and tears her open, the sharp teeth dig into her warm flesh. The beast relishes in the screams tearing and ripping mercilessly, the cry still there. The monster after finishing with the woman searches for the source of that cry.
It struggles, moving the wooden crib the monster stops, a little baby, crying, then it does something even the wisest were not expecting. The monster picks up the child and holds, not ripping it apart just yet. The baby stops crying as the beast holds her, the tiny hands move up to the beast's snout, stroking it lightly, the beast holds for a moment and then raises the claw, hastily moving it downwards to strike the child in his hand, however the child falls to the ground and starts crying again.
A bright white light fills the room and slams the beast to the ground, spreading the arms and legs, binding them with bright white chains, a hum coming from them, a grey-robed figured enters the room, his right hand extended towards the beast on the floor, bound by holy
chains. The grey-robed man kneels down and picks up the still crying child and places it on the bed. He sits down as well and calmly retrieves a small book from his pouch with a small pencil. He begins to write quickly and leaves the journal on the bed, he raises again, not minding the child and kneels, placing his right hand upon the forehead of the beast and chants, nothing seems to happen.
The grey-robed figure rises and takes a good look at the child, before taking his leave, the child still cries as the bonds around the beast shatter. The beast looks around and rises. It seems calm, at peace almost, it raises and stumbles to the bed, gazing upon the floor and trembling at the sight. It carefully picks up the journal and reads. Then looks at the child, standing and looking, thinking.
The beast gently picks up the little baby girl and peers into her eyes and sighs, the beast turns now, walking on two legs out into the world with the child in its arms, the child does not cry any more. A snarl echoes through the lands in a deep voice "You are... my Hope..."
In the warm and gentle night.
He came as a gruesome sight.
He ripped and tore.
Yet love, he could not restore.
From all the blood and gore.
He found something more.
In his arms, giggling at the fur.
She thought of him no cur.
This burden he could hardly cope.
The child did not bring him down.
The child raised his frown.
His very own last, little Hope.