Beauty and the Beasts
Words: Five linked drabbles.
Children are cruel. They laugh; tease; stealing lunch from those who are weak.
There are bold, naughty children, who mess their clothes. There are nice children, wearing blonde pigtails and ribbons, who simper at their aunts.
In the playground some show off their skirts, others steal neat, buckled shoes.
One blonde girl wears a plain braid and denim over-alls. She sits outside the group. She watches; the others don't like her because she won't look away.
The nannies talk, watching the huge man who sits alone.
One day she pulls Tyler from the grass. No one thinks to stop her.
"Dom?" she asks, as they drive from the park, "what do you call it?"
"Call what?"
"The feeling that things would be better if you let the Red out."
"What's the Red, Jules?"
"Like when Belle makes the Beast go away, because she loves him. I can't make the Red go away. I don't think it wants to. What happens when I let it out?"
"People get hurt. You don't want people to get hurt, do you, Jules?"
"No. I want to make sure they never hurt again."
"Then just don't let it out."
She nods, pulling it back inside.
Juliet is fifteen when she first thinks of Mrs. Fowl as Angeline. It is hard to think of her as Mrs Fowl, when Mr Fowl is gone.
Before, Mrs. Fowl would wave them on their way. Juliet's brother and uncle disappearing for hours in the night, to return caked in another's blood. (She would have minded less if it were their own.)
Now, she sees the gentle Angeline
in love…
and
vulnerable, torn by despair
…"My Timmy," she whispers…
How did it happen? The Angel and
(only whispered about on seedy corners)
the Irish Devil.
Juliet wonders if
this is love?
Unchanged…
He brings her flowers: roses for romance, orchids for exoticism.
He brings her kisses with perfect lips. Her lipstick lies stolen at the corner of his mouth.
He brings her perfection. He takes innocence, and brings her nights of sweat/sex/sweet.
He brings her attention/adoration/affection, she gives him love.
He brings her to parties, periwinkle blue clinging to her thighs, then leaves her to sexily/gently/hypocritically convince a business associate. It gives her thrill/power/ambition – but it belongs to him.
He stands her up in order to take over the world. Her coffee cools in the July morning as she finally leaves.
….Changed
I see them, always.
The flying girl, smug, infiltrates our world. She hovers by the Princess's shoulder – to enact her justice, they say, because the fey want 'peace'.
The Princess needs no justice. The Princess is justice. The Princess is our world against … their unholy Underground. She is our protector, and the flying girl – not even her own wings, so why can't they give wings to all of us? – the flying girl is trying to take her from us.
The Princess blesses me one day, a smile.
Still I see them – awake, alone, asleep. They will bring our doom.