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Beast	By : Hnoss Category: Fairy Tales, Fables, Folklore, Legends, and Myth > Fairy Tales Views: 8163 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Beauty and the Beast, and I'm not making any money writing this story either.

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Beast

Flora_Winters

I do not own Beauty and the Beast, and I'm not making any money writing this story either.

Summary: Cheating, a broken heart, and a terrible curse are only the beginnings of this morbid little fairytale. Language, MM, OC, and Violence

Chapter Three

A castle loomed like a venomous thorn in the distance, surrounded by a thick forest filled with twisted, deformed trees. Ghostly fog haunted every gnarled branch. Phantom mists crept and slithered over every exposed root. An angry, yet depressed mood had the very air feeling extremely heavy and foreboding. The closer one stepped, the worse the feeling of sudden dread became. If the razor fanged shadows didn't send wondering travelers running for their very sanity, the eerie howling sent them running for their lives every time, because they were the demonic screams of a soul in perpetual torment.

Lucien Bell had no choice but to make his slow way through the dark forest. No stars had the light to brighten his way. The bridge was out due to flooding. In fact, the blasted thing had been washed completely away, forcing him into having to backtrack.

It was so dark. Every crawling and creeping shadow had a startling sound to make. The really strange thing was, he'd never known there to be a castle in these parts. It was almost as if the deceitful mists had given birth to the titanic monstrosity.

Lucien bit his bottom lip as he slowly approached the hellish gates. They were large and very broad. Black as sin and sharper than the eye of a seamstress' needle.

He knew he was lost and needed to get out of the rain. There was no way he'd be able to find his way out of the forest in this bad weather. It was far too dark. Plus, he could hear the howls of distant wolves coming from behind and they were getting closer.

His dear, beautiful Christian had been correct. His sense of direction was dead. It had died a cold and lonely death. Bitter to the bitter end.

Suddenly his horse almost fled when the broad gates began to open as if by the help of invisible hands. Silver runes above the twisted metal glowed, reminding him of his youngest son's lustrous hair before blazing a violet amethyst.

"I dare not enter such a place, Scotch," he spoke to his horse, only to blanch when the howls got closer. "But, I dare not take my chances with a pack of howling wolves either."

He was far too miserable to take notice of the footprints invisible feet had made in the mud as he quickly urged Scotch through the enchanted gates. Getting out of the storm was his main objective at the moment. He'd worry about trespassing and ghosts later.

Looking around, his already stunned eyes widened all the more. The castle property was massive. The courtyard alone dwarfed the town square.

He glanced back over his shoulder just as the gates swung shut with a thunderous clang. It nearly caused Scotch to toss him off, but he quickly calmed the spooked animal.

Gardens within midnight gardens and mazes of coiling thorns spread beyond sight. Horned gargoyles were dancing with legged serpents trapped in stone. Horrors built upon the backs of terrors looked as if they had been carved from the very stones he was sure paved the many roads to Hell. He looked up at spiraling towers that were taller than small gods. It was sheer madness just to stare up at alien marvel. Even the endless stained glass windows portrayed bellowing nightmares from within still pictures. It hurt to tear his eyes away, but he forced himself to do so.

He got off Scotch and led him to what appeared to be a rundown stable. For all he knew, it could have once been a house. The structure was far bigger than his very house.

"Come on," he spoke softly to Scotch. "Let's get you out of this weather, too."

Scotch snorted his approval, making Lucien chuckle a bit. He was cold and needed to get warm. It wasn't good for a man his age to take ill.

Once inside, he quickly found the structure to be a stable for horses. The outside looked in terrible disrepair, but the inside was nicer than most stables in the village. It was shocking. He even found the hay to be warm, dry and very fresh. He was almost tempted to just stay in there with the horse, but curiosity got the better of him.

Looking for a way into the castle was easy. To his astonishment, he discovered the front door to be standing wide open for him to enter. Taking a deep breath, he did just that.

"Hello!" He called out, stepping inside. His voice echoed into eternity. "I don't mean to trespass. I'm lost and cold."

His echo was his only reply.

Perhaps the place was abandoned. But, it couldn't be. The gates had opened for him and the door was wide open, too.

He stepped onto a vast sea of white marble. Towering pillars went on and on, holding up vaulted ceilings. His eyes fell on staircases that looked as if they led all the way up to some low Heaven.

"Hello?"

Nothing but his own echo. It sounded frightened.

Slowly, he cautiously made his way across the vast sea of marble, discovering a faint glow in the distance. The door slammed shut behind him, causing him to yelp with alarm.

He spun around.

Nobody was there.

The wind?

It had to be.

So, he followed the glow till he came to a half open doorway. He carefully poked his dripping wet head inside.

The room was grand. A welcoming fire burned from within the stone maws of a fanged dragon. It was huge. The biggest fireplace he'd ever seen. Even the Brock's didn't have anything as splendid as this. He bet nobody in the world did.

A comfortable looking winged chair was before the warm fire and it looked as if it had been waiting just for him to take full and complete advantage of. So, he did just that. He was so cold and wet. He threw caution to the wolves that were probably prowling just beyond the other side of that warped gate.

He took off his wet cloak and eased himself down into the chair's embrace. It was the most comfortable chair he'd ever sat in. Nothing could or would ever be able to compare.

The soothing warmth chased the cold from his bones, causing his weary eyes to get heavy, and just when he was about to close them in sleep, the shadow of something large and very fast darted across the wall before him. He felt his heart nearly stop in his chest and his breath felt frozen in his lungs.

"H…Hello?"

He trembled in silence and his fear only grew. Had a wolf gotten in?

"Welcome, stranger," a deep, rumbling voice filled the room. A man's voice, but what kind of man, he couldn't tell. He was glued to the spot by an unseen power. "Welcome to my home."

Lucien struggled to rise, but that strong, growling voice commanded him to be still and he did just that. He dared not move. This was the master of the castle and he had the kind of voice no man would ever wish to defy, for it was a voice which promised pain should it ever be disobeyed.

"You are a guest in my home," the commanding, arrogant voice spoke from all directions. "Make yourself comfortable in my chair, old man. You are safe here, for the night."

For the night?

Those ominous words had him shivering with fear.

"What about the morning?" Lucien asked, voice far stronger than his knees.

The dark voice chuckled. A wicked laugh. Filled with storm.

"Morning has not visited me in many years," the voice answered him after several stretching moments. "No star or moon shines here. Not even the sun can chase such darkness away. My light was blown out by one unforgiving breath."

Sorrow? Madness?

Both!

Twisted with unknowable pain.

"I thank you for your generous hospitality, kind Sir," Lucien spoke, voice still calm and steadier than his body. "I will take my leave the moment the weather is fair."

Another dark chuckle.

"You are hungry," his host spoke. It was no question. "My slaves will bring you refreshment."

Slaves?

Lucien watched the giant shadow dart across the wall and he nearly cried out in terror, squeezing his eyes shut. The door banged shut from behind and he would have screamed had he not already been chewing on his sleeve in order to keep his teeth from chattering.

He was far too frightened to run. If he were to even stand up, he would collapse into a complete mess on the floor.

He'd never been a religious man. But, now he wished he'd been.

He should have gone to Mass more often. He should have taken Holy Communion when he'd had the chance. He should have prayed like he was supposed to.

Staring into the blazing fire, he listened to the burning logs pop. Each one reminded him of sharp teeth crushing bone. After all, he was gazing into the maws of a dragon.

He let out a slow breath.

Horns.

The shadow had horns.

He was in the Devil's house.

TBC…

Thank you for the reviews. Keep them coming.

~Flora
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