Thank you so much to all the reviewers! I was jumping off the walls when I saw people were actually reading my story. ï
Karli: Thank you! I'm glad Beauty and the Beast is your favorite fairy tale and that you like my version of it.
Please point out the grammatical and unflowiness mistakes because I bet there are a ton and I need all the help I can get. Just a question ... having never had a beta before, what exactly would you do? I think I'm interested, but maybe you could clear the air a bit about beta-ing.
You made my day. Thanks!
Aerinha: I've added three chapters so hopefully you'll be happy!
TrudiRose: Yes, she probably should get something to eat. guilty laugh Maybe I should add that, I just kind of wanted to move things along because I have a huge tendency to get bogged down with meaningless stuff. I'm glad you find the characters fascinating despite the Disney version parallels. Thanks for the comments on the characters. "Core of determination" ... brilliant. ; )
EreshkigalGirl: Merci. I hope it becomes less carbon copy-ish as it goes along.
anomaly: More updates!
xyz2021: I'll plug my way through. : )
Phoebe Holly: Yay! Another person likes my story! dances around giddily
Now I'm going off to read all of your stories and comment on their brilliance. But once again, thank you for taking the time to read/comment on my story. 'Tis a writer's seventh heaven.
Chapter 7
The old man paused outside the neat wooden door. It was the right house; he was certain of it. He had marked it just this afternoon and there was the little star right above the doorknob. He muttered a few words under his breath and moved his worn hand just a little. The star faded slowly from sight until one never would have known it had been there.
Lifting that same worn hand he knocked three times on the door.
Jeanine examined the clock on the mantel. "It is almost eleven o'clock!" she exclaimed. "Who would be knocking at this hour?"
Veronica looked up from the jewelry she had laid on the table. Piper had been gone only a month or two and yet their family had struck exceedingly good fortune. Mr. Harris had managed to make a considerable amount of money on a risky business venture and had bought his two remaining daughters new gowns and jewelry.
"Perhaps you had better find out?" Veronica said.
"Or perhaps you might." Jeanine glared daggers at her older sister.
"I answered the door this morning when that filthy old beggar woman came knocking," Veronica sniffed. "I shan't answer it again."
Cursing quietly, Jeanine laid down the silver (which she had been shining) and walked to the door. A strange little old man stood at the front stoop, gazing up at her with an odd almost predatory expression in his uncommon lavender eyes. Jeanine was not the type to feel apprehensive about such things, though. She fixed him with a particularly mean glare.
"What do you want?" she asked rudely.
"There are always beasts in the world," the old man said simply, a smile fixed on his lips. It was a smile as strange as the man and Jeanine shivered unconsciously.
"You could hardly have been so stupid to have dragged me all the way out of my warm house to tell me something so ridiculous," Jeanine said. "Be gone! I want you to no more clutter my front stoop."
The old man merely smiled wider. "You have been warned," he said, and with a twirl of his cloak, he was gone. Jeanine stared into the whirling snow for a minute and then closed the door. As she walked back into the almost cozy confines of the parlor, Veronica glanced at her.
"Who was it?" Veronica asked, although it was obvious she did not care one way or the other.
"A strange old man. We are getting some odd visitors lately," Jeanine said. "Ever since--" She stopped and did not continue. She settled down to the silver and after a few minutes, the old man was all but forgotten. Had they perhaps known who he was or why he had appeared at their doorstep he would have been ever present in their thoughts, but as they did not, he vanished as quickly as the snow had come.
The horrified screams preceded everything else. They watched as he emerged--a wolf now--and drew back in horror. He tried to touch them, to tell them that he was the same inside but they leapt away.
"Monster!" they shouted. "Horror! Freak! Demon! Fiend!"
"Beast!"
The words became an endless chant as they scorned him, shunning him while they packed their bags and left without a backward glance in his direction. Blood was not thicker than water. He stood in pain in his room, the paintbrush flying across the canvas, tears flowing from his face and staining the canvas with the bold, brilliant colors.
"There are always beasts in the world." An old man stood in the doorway, laughing, mocking his agony. He lunged for the old man but the floor gave way beneath him and then he was falling, falling, falling ...
Raoul woke suddenly, pain shooting through his leg. It was not as strong as the pain in his heart that had suddenly sharpened to a dagger pressing against his chest.
"You must have had a nightmare," said a sweet voice next to him and a gentle arm reached underneath his neck, cradling his head against the steady beating of a heart. A cool cloth wiped his forehead but it did not compare to the soft fingers on his cheek. He closed his eyes in the darkness. He had not had the dream in a long time, years perhaps, but the memories were so strong, so vivid ... Even if his mind tried to forget, his heart would not. He drew a deep, shuddering breath and fell into a restless sleep where the words 'monster' and 'beast' echoed forever.
