Beauty and the Beast by Tenirsk

Beauty and the Beast

"A tale of hatred and embitterment, passion and amnesty, a tale of such loses and such self sacrificial gain that one may unmask more about thy self than that of the fable. This story has provoked such sentimental awareness within thyself, that all I may do is acquaint thee with the zealous passion of two persons in a timeless epic that will spread through history in a torrent of encompassing meaning."

Elderly hands, with puckered, crumbled skin shook with small tremors as they wrote the last word onto a leather bound page. The last letter, of the last word, on the last page, ended with a practiced curve of the wrist; creating a comely piece. Faint flickers of candle light played serenely onto a large oak desk. Delicate hands reached out over the aged limbs, that now layed on the intricately carved surface. The long nimble fingers glided with grace to the leather book, grasping it with ginger, and slowly bringing the book together. A subdued feminine voice spoke in a whisper, "Aunt, tis late...You must be getting to-"
The voice halted as a hand made heavy with age caused the young girl to pause. It layed unwaveringly upon the forearm of the younger woman, "My dear, have I not told you the story-The story of the Beauty, and of the Beast?" This voice was evidently older, yet it did not quake nor did it falter; the words were patent, though spoke with elderly delay.
Light from the fireplace cascaded shadows about the simply shaped room. Antique book shelves were spread throughout the area. Two detailed end tables framed a large bed. The heavy comforter had a lime green floral design and plush maroon pillows angled against a regal head board. Four post rose from the wooden frame; white linen was wrapped with care upon the overlaying frame, allowing the material to fall in elegance to the floor. A desk was nestled snugly to one corner, where two figures stood. A window before them looked outside, snow fell exquisitely in slow riveting tranquility upon the frost bitten Earth. The older woman , with silver entwined hair sat tritely in a finely polished chair, to her right stood a young girl, simply dressed.
The young girl gave her Great Aunt a inquiring glance, before licking her lips, "A-Auntie?" She ventured slowly, "A story? About a Beast? What of it?" She questioned. Shawna regarded her elder with esteem, Although her mother told the young brunette to bid old Bell no attention.
"Ole' Crone", she would say with malice, "staining the innocence of youth with her continuous bombast of Beasts, a-an-and Romance! Posh!" She would exclaim with a wave of her hand.
Despite Shawna's mother, she was beside her self with inquisitiveness, "Auntie Bell?" she probed.
Bell's mouth, now thin with age, drew up into a grim line as she directed her attention away from the resounding beauty of her great niece, and upon the outside scene. Shawna waited patiently for her to speak. Her Aunt must have been ravishing in her young age, even now, as Shawna studied her she could see beauty. Her nose was slim, and long, though almost button shaped, her eyes, a vibrant green, were lined in lush, dark lashes. Her face was the shape of a perfect oval, although, the skin now hanged limply around her cheekbones. Her neck was elegant, her hair long and curled, like Shawna's, however, Bell's was a brilliant silver. Even in her old age, Bell was lovely.
Slowly glancing at her niece Bell noted how alike Shawna was in appearance to her, of course, when she was young. Belle blinked slowly, slightly smiled to herself, and shook her head, as she again turned away to the window.
Belle gestured for the young woman to retrieve something. In moment she returned with a glass container. Inside the container a wilted, thorny steam lay limply upon lifeless rose petals. Bell looked upon the container, her chin quivered, and her eyes shut as her forehead knotted with pained emotion.
Shawna placed her hand on Bell's shoulder, "Auntie...do thee have another head pain?" She asked worriedly. "Thee should be getting to bed. I shall fetch the chamber maid." Shawna added hurriedly, as she began to turn. But, at the sound of her Aunt's shaking voice she shifted again to look upon her haunted face.
"He was savage, beastly, roughly inhuman..."

Chapter One

Lambent beams of light penetrated decaying windows, shards of stain glass were still ever-present on the sills. The shattered remains seemed to gather the blazes of light, and in turn, bestowed a lavished assortment of color upon a well-worn cobble-stone floor. The room was broad, however furnishings were sparse. Distinct echoes of foot steps reverberated off the vast emptiness, until a figure, hidden in the shadows, reached a painting laying beveled upon a stone wall. Multiple incisions, immense in size adorned the art, leaving the material hanging leadenly. The folds lay poise, concealing the vivid image within it. Smoothing over the portrait, a hand, with a certain tenderness, stretched the material back into place.
Upon the canvas a man with dark hair, stood to the side of a noble oak chair, his height was staggering as he towered over the chair. The woman within the chair was lovely, dark hair pulled into a tight braid, thrown over her shoulder. Beads and threads were woven within the glossy strands and her head was tilted to the side, her lush lips portrayed her happiness. Her tranquil blue eyes seemed to stare from the painting; her elegant hands lay in her lap, grasping a smaller hand. To her right was a young boy; a handsome young man. His hair was dark as well though long, slightly curled traces lay upon his angled forehead. He stood almost proud within the piece, shoulders thrown back, a pure grin was present on his lips. His dark eyes seemed to sparkle with boy-hood mischief.
The rough hand, with long fingers and enlarge knuckles traced from the man within the painting, to the young woman. A dark figure stood in front of the painting, casting a dismal shadow over it. His face enshrouded in heavy darkness. Dark contours of light add depth to his dark eyes and cheek bones, his hair clung wetly to his forehead. Decon's head tilted, remembering that life, that family. His heavy brows furrowed in concentration, creating a appealing crinkle above his nose. Shutting his eyes he could almost smell the fresh scent of wild flowers, tickling his senses. Decon's sensual lips pursed together into a grim line, the grooves present on each side of his mouth lengthen as he angered.
Dust rose along with a heavy thud as his large palm slammed forcefully into the canvas. A loud angry, almost agonized grunt came from Decon as he savagely ripped the heavy framed painting from the wall. His hair swept back from his face, revealing a angled oval face and defined jaw line that was dappled with dark, un-kept stubble. His powerful shoulders heaved as he threw the ill treated art to the floor, as if he were throwing the memory away. It clambered to the ground, tearing into small slivers upon the rough edges of the stone.
From the windows of a sullen castle, on burnt land, a roar was heard, clear and choleric. It vibrated off the surroundings, and small blue birds took to the sky in fear, calling out in warning.

"Twas' a noise that no normal man could make. Twas'...a noise of a forlorned, forgotten, beast of a man, trapped...within the shadows of his own mind," the old woman lowered her head, breathing raggedly.
"Oh Auntie...Thee must be weary from the day-" Again Shawna made an attempt to convince her dear great aunt to retire, but was interrupted by her soft plea.
"No...not from the day..." Belle rose from her seat, " I'm merely weary of disbeliefs.."
Shawna peered at her Aunt with guilt. She placed her hand gently upon Bell's as it grasped the back of the chair, "Auntie...Please sit, I wish to hear thy tale. I only worry about thy haleness..."
Belle shook her head as if considering for a moment, and slowly peered at her niece. Licking her parched lips she nodded and again seated herself comfortably, Shawna was a sincere young woman. "As you wish my dear..." She paused in her thought, eying Shawna dubiously who still stood, hands entwined neatly. Which rested softly on the blue velvet of her dress. The young woman sat down upon another lavished chair near by, and again Belle nodded, her green eyes fell to the container, resting unmoved upon the desk.
"Oh! How beautiful was she..." she began.

Dainty hands, glowing in youth set a polished blue vase upon a grand oak table. The assortment of Wild flowers added color to the dinning room. Heavily lashed eyes, green of color, with golden flecks, peered at the pedals. The young woman's pale, lush lips hinted a soft smile as she titled her oval face and moved to touch the silken blossoms, still moist from the early morning dew. Her life was much like the sight before her; she was trapped within the beauty of it , much like the flowers. Soon they would dry, and lay listlessly from the containment, but, as long as their perfection was relished for a time, it never seem to be a matter of concern. After all, there were plenty more flowers within the fields.