A/N: This is it. My first attempt at a fanfic. I'm a little nervous, a
little scared. Of my computer, for one, plus the rest of you guys. But here
goes nothing I guess. I've recently read a really good fanfic with Beauty
and the Beast as its origins. So, if any of you has read my bio, you know
that I get my ideas from what I read/see (something I believe is a great
trait in a fanfic author). Naturally, I got an idea and haven't stopped
thinking about it. It actually inspired me to register and get it all out.
So, thank you Gatekeeper, for your wonderful and talented writing, which
has gotten me off my lazy, docile browser ass and onto my computer. Here we
go.
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"So," I said, "This is the place, huh?" I got a burning sensation deep in my chest just looking at the place. It had to have been the single largest building I'd ever seen. "Yes, Sasha, this is it," was Father's only monotone reply. He stared arrow- straight in the driver's seat of the old wagon at the dusty dirt road ahead of us. I gazed at him briefly, praying that one day he would break out of this funk and be my father again. Not likely, said my cynical mind-voice. Shut up! There's hope, replied another voice, from far, far deeper. Hope, that just brought the familiar stinging knot in my throat and grimace to my face. The memories attempted to break the dam I had constructed after. I was done with hope, it brought nothing but trouble. I swallowed all the eruptive emotion with a strengthening sigh, staring determinedly out at the looming castle. This was it, our new home. I could deal with that. The grayness of it all was what hit me first. Gray and black, those seemed to be the only tones brave enough to survive in the "haunted castle of the beast lord" as the villagers of the nearest town so quaintly put it. Black were the leafless trees and thorny bushes. Gray was the unchanging sky. Gray and black made up the stone of the castle itself, whose turrets and spires seemed to pierce the heavens. It could have been beautiful, once, long ago. It was every bit the broody, unwelcoming place one might expect to house the tortured soul of a cursed noble. "Well," I said, groping for anything to get a rise from Father, "We'll never run out of things to clean here, that's for damn sure." I glanced over at him expectantly. He hated cursing, always did. I could never bring myself to use lavender-scented soap, for it brought the God-awful taste of it to my mouth from all the childhood punishments. "No, I suppose not," he said, Damn, nothing, "It will be good work, good money. " Okay, I lost this time, but there would be other chances. The old wagon finally tottered its way around the final curve in the road, revealing what had been hidden by the trees, if you could call the black claws sticking out of the ground that. A wide area before the immense wooden door had been cleared, probably to accommodate large amounts of nobles for balls and the like. Now it was empty, the only life being the weeds sprouting here and there in the dirt. Father stopped Barcelona, our old mare, in the middle of the expanse, dropping to the ground in one fluid motion. I hopped out after him, stumbling, as usual. He strode without waiting for me up the gray steps to the door. Bang, bang, bang! It rang out as Father lifted the great iron knocker on one of the wooden double doors. Then he stood back and waited. I assumed the position at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on one of the large stone pillars upon which snarling lions growled at me. Figures, was my only thought. Finally, the sound of rusty hinges creaking open greeted our ears. When the door had opened approximately two feet, a man stepped out. "I assume you must be Dante and his daughter, Sasha," he said stiffly. Stiffly seemed to me to be the only thing this man would be capable of. I came to this conclusion from observing that everything about him was stiff. From his salt-and-pepper hair to his back straighter than Father's gaze, to his feet held at an exact 45-degree angle. Dad just nodded, not seeming to take in anything from this cold introduction than that we were expected, we wouldn't be kicked out. Good news. "Come in then, I'll have Ivan take care of your horse and supplies." He turned then, and Father followed him into the darkness of the castle. With a dry swallow, I clambered up the stairs with little more than the usual quota of staggering, and into the darkness.
A/N: Okay, there you go. I think it turned out okay, for my first time. Review please, and we'll see if I keep this going. No promises!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"So," I said, "This is the place, huh?" I got a burning sensation deep in my chest just looking at the place. It had to have been the single largest building I'd ever seen. "Yes, Sasha, this is it," was Father's only monotone reply. He stared arrow- straight in the driver's seat of the old wagon at the dusty dirt road ahead of us. I gazed at him briefly, praying that one day he would break out of this funk and be my father again. Not likely, said my cynical mind-voice. Shut up! There's hope, replied another voice, from far, far deeper. Hope, that just brought the familiar stinging knot in my throat and grimace to my face. The memories attempted to break the dam I had constructed after. I was done with hope, it brought nothing but trouble. I swallowed all the eruptive emotion with a strengthening sigh, staring determinedly out at the looming castle. This was it, our new home. I could deal with that. The grayness of it all was what hit me first. Gray and black, those seemed to be the only tones brave enough to survive in the "haunted castle of the beast lord" as the villagers of the nearest town so quaintly put it. Black were the leafless trees and thorny bushes. Gray was the unchanging sky. Gray and black made up the stone of the castle itself, whose turrets and spires seemed to pierce the heavens. It could have been beautiful, once, long ago. It was every bit the broody, unwelcoming place one might expect to house the tortured soul of a cursed noble. "Well," I said, groping for anything to get a rise from Father, "We'll never run out of things to clean here, that's for damn sure." I glanced over at him expectantly. He hated cursing, always did. I could never bring myself to use lavender-scented soap, for it brought the God-awful taste of it to my mouth from all the childhood punishments. "No, I suppose not," he said, Damn, nothing, "It will be good work, good money. " Okay, I lost this time, but there would be other chances. The old wagon finally tottered its way around the final curve in the road, revealing what had been hidden by the trees, if you could call the black claws sticking out of the ground that. A wide area before the immense wooden door had been cleared, probably to accommodate large amounts of nobles for balls and the like. Now it was empty, the only life being the weeds sprouting here and there in the dirt. Father stopped Barcelona, our old mare, in the middle of the expanse, dropping to the ground in one fluid motion. I hopped out after him, stumbling, as usual. He strode without waiting for me up the gray steps to the door. Bang, bang, bang! It rang out as Father lifted the great iron knocker on one of the wooden double doors. Then he stood back and waited. I assumed the position at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on one of the large stone pillars upon which snarling lions growled at me. Figures, was my only thought. Finally, the sound of rusty hinges creaking open greeted our ears. When the door had opened approximately two feet, a man stepped out. "I assume you must be Dante and his daughter, Sasha," he said stiffly. Stiffly seemed to me to be the only thing this man would be capable of. I came to this conclusion from observing that everything about him was stiff. From his salt-and-pepper hair to his back straighter than Father's gaze, to his feet held at an exact 45-degree angle. Dad just nodded, not seeming to take in anything from this cold introduction than that we were expected, we wouldn't be kicked out. Good news. "Come in then, I'll have Ivan take care of your horse and supplies." He turned then, and Father followed him into the darkness of the castle. With a dry swallow, I clambered up the stairs with little more than the usual quota of staggering, and into the darkness.
A/N: Okay, there you go. I think it turned out okay, for my first time. Review please, and we'll see if I keep this going. No promises!
