I Am

Traded for a Rose (Part One)

In the middle of the night, an unfamiliar man with a worried face shook her awake. Once he saw that she was awake, he stepped out of the moonlight and moved away from the bed. His voice was soft when he said, "I need you to get up, Beauty."

She sat up with narrowed eyes as she tried to see what this man looked like. Who was he? She did not have any idea where she was. My name is Beauty, she thought. I wonder what fairy tale this is. If only I could remember who I was and where I am from, maybe everything would make sense. Would Mr. Unknown send her to a dangerous place? She glanced down at her body and stared at her legs. She did not look to be that tall—maybe about five-foot-two. The blanket fell from the bed and then onto the floor. Shivering from the cold, she realized that she was not dreaming, and this was all real. The déjà vu-like confusion assaulted her mind as she remembered the wedding of Sleeping Beauty. Was she going to experience this feeling continuously? She glanced around the room, hoping to see Mr. Unknown, but he was not there.

But he was there. Mr. Unknown floated high above the house in the desert, night sky, as he watched the events unfold within the human realm. The moon shone down upon him and the small town, which surrounded a dried-up oasis and dying river. The once brilliant sapphire blue river was now clouded with pollution and garbage. The palm trees slumped over, as they were brittle and burnt from the sun. The torrid wind blew against the half-buried town that used to be a wealthy, oil working community. Most of the townsfolk had fled the dying oasis, but now, only a few remained.

Mr. Unknown knew that she would look for him, and he had warned her that his presence needed to remain a secret. A long time ago, humans first saw their people. The humans labeled their kind as angels, demons, and ghosts. And he was none of those things; Mr. Unknown was simply a surveyor. He observed the humans and made sure their lives followed the correct storyline. If they altered history, the world's stories would be changed, thus affecting their future. If stories did not exist in one dimension, it would disrupt the balance between their worlds, causing both of their worlds to be destroyed.

Moonlight streamed in from the only window in the room. Immense shadows clashed with the silver light. Awed by the color, Beauty remained silent as she watched the shadows twist and shift in the dim room.

"Beauty, are you listening to me?"

She turned away from the shadows and looked again at the man that hid within the darkness. She squinted at his shadowed face and frowned.

"You need to come downstairs to the kitchen. I am sorry for being rough when you have not been feeling well. This is important, so do not go back to sleep. Lela's making breakfast right now, but she will be up shortly to help you get ready."

The door opened to the room, allowing light to fill the darkened space. Beauty quickly looked around the room to see if Mr. Unknown was hiding from her. He said for her to ignore him. But how was she to ignore him when he wasn't with her? She noticed that the room was small and was mostly empty, except for the few modest possessions that cluttered the tiny dresser near the curtain-less window.

A young woman stood in the doorway, holding a candle. This must be Lela, she thought. The light in her hands highlighted the chestnut waves in her hair. She had a narrow, short nose. She could not see the color of her eyes from where she sat. Lela wore a stained beige dress that stopped at her ankles. The fabric looked heavy and uncomfortable. She was rather pretty, but the immense frown she wore marred her beauty. Once Beauty nodded, the man glanced at Lela and then rushed from the room, leaving them both behind.

Lela moved further into the room and said, "Beauty, you heard papa. You need to get dressed."

I need to play along. The original Beauty was sick before I had taken over her body. Maybe I could pretend that the sickness affected her mind. That probably will not work, though, if I do not know what she was sick with. If I could pretend that I knew them, I might do this without them knowing that I was not their Beauty.