AN: *Gives her big sister: techbaby the FIRST ice cream cone with double scoops because this is the FIRST time her big sis had ever read one of her fairy tale stories and reviewed... needless to say, Unleashed Soul was feeling pretty good*
Thanks!
*Looks at her other reviewers and realizes that she was being so terribly rude and since they were so nice to review she gave them each an ice cream cone with double scoops as well.*
I love you guys!!
Thanks for reviewing again Princess... Glad to see you're keeping up with this story too! To answer you question, I am currently living in a Spanish speaking country. Yes there is a reason an Angel always appears in my stories (though I have yet to figure out what that reason is) and I'm gonna say marc is around 22 or 23 years old...
*Smiles widely, she reaches into the freezer to pull out some ice cream for herself but instead picks up a small furry rodent*
SQUIRREL! ....*Growlz*
*Looks at aznchick and hope she follows through with the promise of giving me an ice cream cone*
°*°
Marc stood out on the balcony of a very old, forgotten and apparently enchanted castle. It was rather small and humble and Marc supposed it was owned before by a duke of some sort considering the papers, pictures and items he had found in this place. To Marc, the castle was a part of heaven he was denied because of his birth. If a king was offered a place like this he would turn up his nose and deny it. Though to Marc, who was born and raised in a small, cold house that had only three rooms total. He even had to share a room with his parents. They had a small kitchen and small living/dinning area.
Marc chuckled slightly as a breeze blew past him. The beginnings of winter had approached and only a month ago such a breeze would have frozen him to the core, but today, his thick fur blocked it from touching his skin. He breathed in the fresh air and then exhaled. He wondered if it was a good thing, or a bad thing, that this... curse? blessing? came upon him.
He no longer needed to work, no longer needed to worry about other people, no longer had to sleep on a cold floor with a cloth – for such a thin fabric should never be called a "blanket" – and curled in a ball to keep warm. He was a king here! He ruled over this place, it was his castle. But of course there was the curse of his looks. But it wasn't like anyone was going to see him, right? Well, no one except the lame, mute-deaf.
The boy, as if he knew he was being thought of, hobbled into the room and looked up at the man he feared so greatly. The boy was perhaps twelve years old, if even that – Marc had no way of discovering his age considering the boy couldn't actually tell him. Neither Marc nor the boy could read or write so their only way of communication was to point, nod or shake one's head, or – the case of Marc – glare and growl.
He growled now.
At first he thought it silly to growl at a boy who could not hear it, but the boy seemed to always know when Marc was growling or not.
The boy shot him a wicked glance but looked quickly away, afraid of this monster. He hobbled over to the table that sat just inside the balcony, shivering from the cold, quickly laid down the pitcher of warm milk. Marc didn't know where the lad found the means to keep them alive, but it seemed that this young boy – he never learned his name – was better at taking care of himself and apparently someone else, than Marc was. Marc shrugged it away as if it meant nothing, in truth, though, it hurt him. His pride felt the pain of having a child, a mere child, take care of him.
One of the lad's legs was longer than the other and on the shorter leg his ankle was ill-formed and he had to limp everywhere he went. Marc wasn't sure if the lad felt any pain with it or not, but he knew that the boy was extremely strong.
Marc woke from blackness to see only more blackness greeting him. He moaned – or growled – deep in the back of his throat. The noise of it scared him. It was deep and hoarse. He heard more footsteps coming towards him .They weren't the steps of an overgrown monster like he had heard... an hour ago? a day ago? a year ago? It didn't matter; whoever was coming towards him could cause him no harm.
He saw two small feet, those of a human, he supposed, though one foot was in an odd position – whoever it was walked on the side of his foot! Lots of sticks fell down around Marc, he guessed this person, this boy – for he was wearing pants and no shoes – had been gathering firewood. Marc growled when some sticks fell on his back and head.
He shook the memory from his head, or really what he could remember of it. After that everything got kind of blurry. He remembered the boy helping him to his feet, for some reason his body felt so much heavier. The boy helped him walk, though it was odd for the boy seemed to need help himself. The next thing he knew he was sitting in front of a warm fire, eating some sort of food though he did not know what, and soon drifted off to sleep.
That was a month ago.
Now this "quiet" lad with no name practically took care of Marc, though Marc sensed so much fear within the boy. He never understood for a moment why the child had saved him, but really, he didn't much care either.
°*°
Beauty took another step, and then another, and then another.
Just one foot in front of the other, she thought. But in order for her to place "one foot in front of the other" she had to think about it, plan it, and then struggle to move it. She was tired and she knew it. She couldn't keep going on like this!
Her horse died, or she thought it did, she wasn't really sure. She didn't really remember. She didn't really care. Her life was gone now; it died back there beside Angel. She still saw his face covered in blood, his eyes as the life began to fade away...
The way he looked half an hour before he died, his beautiful face was glowing with his youth. And then, right before he died, the pained looked he wore. And then after he died. His lifeless eyes staring up at her...
"I love you, Teresita." In her hesitance, in her cowardice she never said the words that he needed to hear in return.
He died never knowing, it tore her apart inside. All this time she was right, she was right! He did love her! But there was a chance that he didn't, this small, but very important thing kept her from confessing to him the words that he should have heard, the emotions that he should have known!
She fell to the ground on her knees and held back the tears. She would not cry, she was Teresa, and the daughter of Teresa Leah, she would not cry! So she held all her tears, sobs and wails inside of her, not understanding that that was hurting her worse then anything else.
Footsteps. She heard footsteps!
She looked behind her and saw a young lad holding sticks. His large blue eyes were wide with worry. The sticks fell to the ground and he quickly hobbled over to her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"What are you doing out here?" she asked the young boy. She glanced around to see if he was alone, surely enough he was. "Why are you alone? Where are your parents?"
The boy just stared at her for a moment, then tried to help her stand. She felt rather silly; a child was trying to save her! A lame boy was trying to help her to walk! She smiled and stood up, taking hold of his hand and picking up some of the sticks he dropped, she let him lead the way.
°*°
"Where is that boy!" Marc asked allowed, he had no one else to speak to him so he normally spoke to simply hear a voice. "He should be here, he never leaves. Stupid lad!"
Marc paced about the room, glancing out the window every now and then to see if he could spot the kid.
"Damn boy, its getting cold in here." He said looking towards the empty, black fireplace. He began to pace some more. Winter was fast approaching and he predicted snow would be soon to fall.
A deep, low growl erupted from his throat.
He glanced out the window once more and saw "the kid" walking towards the castle. Marc stopped and stared at him – or who was with him. She was a beautiful young woman, dark chocolate hair, pale skin – he couldn't see the color of her eyes from so far off nor the shape of them. Her body though, he noted, was very beautiful.
He growled again. He didn't want her to see him! She would be frightened, or worse, she would laugh at him. Say that he looked like a monster or a beast. He shook his head... no, she wouldn't get the chance to see him... or laugh at him.
°*°
She held her breath as the young boy – she guessed he was mute – pushed on the door and it opened a crack. The boy slid through and pulled Beauty along behind him. She slowly, cautiously, followed. She had been inside of several castles at different events. Most of the time she looked so angelic... Angel...
She sighed, swallowing her tears.
This castle was different then anything she had ever seen before in her life. It was old, it had a bad smell to it and was apparently abandoned.
Was the boy a runaway? Did he live here all alone?
A low sounding growl answered her second question...
***
So... What did you think? Review me and tell me!!!
***
My wonderful big sister, the greatest artist, techbaby, drew some pictures for this story. Remember to review her!
She has promised not to run over any more squirrels (purposely) if you review her ;)
If you want to see pictures for this story check out these links: (copy and paste the link):
http://www.mediaminer.org/fanart/view.php?id=119992 (Cover Art)
http://www.mediaminer.org/fanart/view.php?id=120006 (Picture of the mute child)
http://www.mediaminer.org/fanart/view.php?id=120011 (Picture of Beauty standing in the doorway)
REMEMBER TO REVIEW HER! PLEASE!
Thanks! and don't forget to review me too!!!
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