Short Mystical Tales

Beautiful Beasts

"your father shouldn't have taken that rose," the beast said. I scoffed. as I turned away, now staring out the small barred window sitting atop the stones of the dungeon. It was one rose. A rose barely alive under all the snow in the land his castle stood on.

"it was a rose. just a rose. a flower, you beast" I rolled my eyes, folding my hands. I didn't need my hands to be free. He's safe from me from behind the bars that kept me from him.

"it still stealing, which means your father is still a thief" I turned to face him, narrowing my eyes and glaring at the man whom the town all referred to as the beast. He was vile looking. his long black hair kept messy as they stab his blood-red eyes now and then. The scarf he wore, was just as read as his eyes, brushing up on his patchy chin. His eyes stared at me, uninterested and cold and tired, nearly bored.

He stepped back, slightly startled, his eyes finally having any sort of emotion. "call him a thief one more time, I'll cut off your tongue" I glared at him.

"if you start behaving like a lady instead of a rabid animal, I'd let you stay in a room instead of the dungeons" he sighed "I'm going to rest" he added as I watched him walk away slowly. From behind, he would be a beast. The broad shoulders he slouches, and the dark hair, he could be mistaken as a beast any day. yet his pale skin and arms with barely any muscles, just made him look sickly.

I sit down on the cold damp floor. The rough stone stamping itself on my bare legs. The ends of my blue dress and white apron covered in mud, dust and damp with water. I sigh, my brown curly locks falling out of the bun I wore.

Just days ago, I was miserable. But at least I was free to roam the small town I lived in. the close-minded people that I would pass. The one library of the town, with the same books every day of my life. And my father.

My sweet father. An older man who worked as an inventor and sold his tinkers in the markets of a nearby town. he must've gotten lost to end up in a place like this beast's castles. the outside was just as bleak as the inside. gargoyles and vines were like a blanket a top the mound of stone and iron. the inside was dark and dreary, and whenever the beast was around, it would get even more so, even with the candles that poorly illuminated the halls.

I open up the messenger bag I wore under my dark blue cloak. I laugh. at least my books were safe. I open up the latest one I took from the burning grounds. I mean the mayor gave me books, but they were barely enough to clench my thirst. as I read every page and paragraph that built worlds. every word was like a drop of color in a pond of plot.

"you read?" the beast's voice asked. holding a bowl of warm red soup. I raised my eyebrow.

"I thought you were going to rest" I ask him, holding the book tighter, if he was closer, I could hit him with spine of my book hard enough, he could pass out. and those red eyes would close, and stop being so tired.

"I thought you might be hungry" he said placing the bowl down, far away. as if he was scared, as he should be. I couldn't get that bowl without moving. he paused, waiting for me to grab it in starvation, but I didn't. "you better get it before it's cold"

"I'm not hungry" I look away and go back to my book. but I can't read, I can't get the magic back with him watching me from afar. "do you need something? or are you going to keep staring at me?"

"don't be so harsh, if you behave, I'll let you out" he folded his arms and explained. "it'd look bad if I keep having you in my dungeons. my servants will eventually find out, and they'd be horrified."

"I'm sorry I'm tarnishing your reputation and appearance, beast" I roll my eyes, going back to just staring my book. hearing his footsteps fade, a soft groan as he held the back of his neck and leaving me alone. I sighed, pulling my knees to my chest as I gathered all the warmth inside me. I hold on to my cloak for dear life, it was the only thing keeping me from freezing to death.