Flash Fiction by Edie Arks

Boy, Beast

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Prompt #13: There is an unexplored jungle on the highest mountain of your city. Nobody wants to go there at night, but what happens when one day you find yourself stranded there when you open your eyes.

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There was once a young boy who lived in a blue house at the foot of a green, lush mountain. The house had two other inhabitants—his stepfather, who owned the property; and his stepfather's daughter, who he refrained from calling a sister. Despite being the youngest of the household, their non-blood relationship often relegated him to a mere attendant.

As an attendant, the boy's chores would frequently bring him to varying parts of the jungle. Mushrooms to pick, firewood to fetch, chicken to feed; the list always lasted him from sunrise 'til sunset. But he knew better to stay away at night, for a frightful Beast dwelled deep in the jungle where even light couldn't touch.

One day, the boy awoke to find himself surrounded by a dense thicket. He swiped at the vines clinging to his pajamas and squinted at the darkness. Though dim, he could tell that this part of the jungle was not anywhere he'd been.

But how in heaven's name did he get here? He made sure to be back by sundown, in bed before midnight. Even the bitter taste of the porridge he had for dinner still clung to his tongue. The boy wouldn't dare to sneak out during witching hours—not without shoes, at least.

The lost wanderer wandered aimlessly until he came to a small clearing in the middle of the trees. An enormous shape stood opposite him, like a boulder blocking his path forward. Something about the boulder was very strange.

Why does it have... a tail?

Suddenly, the boulder opened its eyes.

The shape rose to its four feet and stepped out of the shadows. It padded towards the petrified boy, nose twitching to make of the scent that he carried. The creature was close enough that the boy could see the red tinge of its muzzle, and hear the low growl in its throat.

It was the Beast.

"You are not one of them. Go home, and keep away from the jungle," it commanded.

The Beast then swiftly retreated into the trees. The boy, trembling in every limb, had to fumble his way down the mountain with only the stars as his guide.

Dawn was approaching when he finally arrived home. He climbed in through his bedroom window, careful not to make any noise. When morning came he quickly drew himself a hot bath, made hot cocoa, and carried out his chores as usual.

The following night, the boy awoke again to the sound of the jungle. Nothing had changed, but everything felt different. The critters were especially lively. The moon put on its brightest show. And the boy; well, he was no longer afraid.

With a hand shoved in his pocket, the little boy made his way to the clearing again and waited. It didn't take long before he heard the rustling of leaves followed by heavy, purposeful steps. Out came the Beast with an exasperated frown on its face.

"I told you to keep away, boy," it snarled through its teeth. "It is not safe for you."

Moonlight flooded the clearing as the boy perceived the Beast in its full form. From ear to tail, it flaunted all the features of a tiger, but with proportions similar to a man's. It was a confusing sight to the boy, but his determination remained.

"Beast, why didn't you eat me last night?"

Of all the reactions the Beast expected, this was perhaps the least.

"The only people we punish are of the cruel and the wicked. Beaters, thieves, killers. Are you any of those?"

He shook his head.

"Then you should not be here."

"... Do you reckon I've done something punishable?"

The creature's ears perked.

"I-I accidentally left the chicken coop open one night... and the neighbor's cat got inside. My master shot it dead and told me to hide the carcass. He even told me to steal their laying hens as compensation! But I didn't want to do any of that, so h-he used the cane on me."

Shakily, the boy pulled his hand from his pocket and held it out. Streaks of bright red welts had formed all across his palm and up to his wrist.

A huff escaped the Beast. Here was a city rife with sin, and the Guardian sent it a forgetful child with torn hands. Was it a mistake? Or was it to believe that everyone else just abandoned their iniquities overnight?

No matter. The Guardian may have misjudged, but the Beast was just presented with the perfect substitute.

It beckoned the boy to follow him through the trees. After a while, the pair arrived at an overlook at the edge of the jungle. The city was completely asleep beneath them; land rising and falling slowly as if it was breathing.

"Point me to your master."

The boy hesitated at the Beast's order. He took his time to scour the ground and finally pointed at a house below the cliff. Before he could say anything else, the Beast was gone.

The sudden quietness of his surroundings evoked an odd mix of emotions. The boy sat and thought of home, of his stepfather. Sure, he was a demanding man. Sure, he made vile remarks when he was drunk. But a violent man he was not.

It was the chores, see. They became so, so tiresome. Too tiresome.

From atop the cliff, the child watched as an orange blur broke into the blue house at the foot of the green, lush mountain. Almost immediately, a blood-curdling scream erupted and stirred the neighbors awake. But by the time they came over, it was already too late; the blue walls were painted in red and the striped assailant had fled.

The boy sighed as he discarded the poison ivy he carried in his pocket. He'd have to think of a story in case anyone started asking questions. For now, it was best to stay lost.

As for the Beast, well. It didn't say anything about liars, now, did it?