The Beast of Yeller Wood

Chapter Thirteen

Sorrrryyy this was a little bit more delayed than originally planned but for once I have been really, really busy.

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  I gulped, there was so many things running through my head. Wondering whether he would gift me time for my last words, or how bad it would hurt, and what would become of my body after he killed me. I wished I didn’t have time to prepare myself for youthful death; it’s a tragic way to spend the last day. If I were withered, old, and had lived a beautiful life nothing would be lovelier than that. But not with such a short life: I never will get to have children, never marry, and never consummate the love that beat in my heart. At least I loved; somehow I could love this stranger John with more love than most seek in their long lifetime. And that was the merciful blip of joy God granted me in my dull, meager lifetime. I forgive him for that leap of faith; it probably carried me here with a sane mind. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t save me; he gave me the love that flourished and grew so rapidly. We were star crossed lovers from the moment I looked into those limitless, dark, intense, smoldering eyes. Nothing would have saved us, a heartrending fate was predestined.

                “Belinda take off your blindfold.” He commanded,

                I fumbled numbly with the knot on the back of my head, eventually the cloth floated down to my feet. I blinked furiously for a moment, the sun glared in my eyes so brightly. I let my eyes readjust to the light, in reality it wasn’t that bright but I hadn’t seen light in hours. We stood in an expanse of rolling foothills covered in grape fields that were brown and dry from the chilly winter. Only frost covered the patchy grass and dormant plants. The sun was bright, but still left a cold spot in my heart. I turned around frantically; I didn’t see the Beast anywhere. Fear was caught in my throat just like when you accidently inhale a cloud of flour. My head whipped around facing north, and I see a castle. Shock ripped through me, why did he take me here? Was I involved in something much deeper and complex than I had thought? And was there the chance I was here because I was more than just pot roast to the Beast?

                The castle was radiant, brilliant, and most of all terrifying. Even standing in the bright morning sun the feeling of darkness was nearly palpable. It was an illustration ripped out of a storybook, towers reached into the sky as if they were trying to grip onto the clouds. The roofs peaked with flags flapping in the wind. The stone it was built from was dark stone, polished to a murky sheen. Out of the dark stone rose a heavy wide entrance with a door from some kind of dark wood I had never seen before. Large carvings were etched into the wood with an artistic panache.  The massive door was surrounded by metal working engineered with such finesse and ability. I backed up frantically, where was I?

                And then the door slowly began to open, I yelped like a helpless child. As I scampered back, my dress snagged on a particularly large and jaggy rock sending me to the ground with a crash on my hind quarters. I winced; the pain wasn’t pleasant in fact it quickly grew to be a fierce throbbing from my ankle. I swallowed my bottom lip stifling any audible sobs, tears strewn my dusty face. Gravel crackled from behind me, my neck turned to see a man approaching me. His shoulders wide and broad, with thick heavy arms of muscle, and hair sheered very short. Looking into those eyes, I instantly knew that this was the Beast. But how could that be? I just knew from those fierce eyes that met mine when he beckoned me back in Yeller to meet him at midnight to save my innocent little village from more horrors. It was only a single day ago, but it felt like years. As if it was an old, untouched memory suddenly brought to mind.

                “Get up Belinda.” He knew my name,

                Maybe this was? But morphing humans is the stuff only out of tales; then again something like the Beast was too. I pull myself up with the rock only using my good foot; I wanted to scream out in pain when I set my weight upon my other foot. And that is what I did, a horrible cry escaped from my lips. His two hands came under my elbow to alleviate the weight on my ankle. He shouted a few men’s names. I look to the now open door and see a few men rush out to us. They take me, and I let them carry me inside. There isn’t anything I can do to fight them off or run away. I just shut my eyes letting the pain seize me like the night. And somewhere between being lifted and being brought through the castle, I was laid upon a bed. That is when I finally opened the eyes that had been squeezed tight shut.

                The room was dark with the heavy velvet curtains drawn shut. But from what I could see with the little light provided from a small candle, the expanse of the room was lavish. I had never laid my eyes upon any single item half as grand in my life. I was laid in a plush bed covered in thick blankets of rich fabric of dark crimson. In fact most of the room had crimson or dark mahogany. It was far from my simplistic taste but it was hard to deny its splendor. I lay in a four poster bed of elaborately carved mahogany covered in a velvet canopy with gold thread leaf and vine detailing throughout. Gold tassels edged the fabric. There was water in a fine crystal glass beside me placed on the bedside table.

                I reached for it with a weary hand and gulped it down hungrily. Before I knew it the glass was empty, I left it back in its spot. I pulled myself up against the dozens of pillow a bit more, I winced in pain. My ankle was tender, but I had to admit it felt better. Propped up against the pillows, my eyes adjusted to the dark.

                To my side was another identical bedside table with a vase of dried out lavender, they left the room with a heavenly scent that reminded me sickly of home that left a pang in my gut. I erased the thought from mind examining the rest of the room. There was a large trunk at the foot of the bed with a short tapestry runner, why such gaudiness? The walls were covered in gold and maroon rococo designs except for the outer wall that remained stone. There was soft furniture strategically placed throughout the room, such as a dark charcoal grey chaise with a soft blanket tossed across as if to seem casual but really wasn’t. There were matching armchairs that were overbearing covered in gold and red checkered fabric that was faced out from either side of the fireplace. The fireplace itself was massive, carved out of the stone that the rest of the castle consisted of. There were gruesome images of leering gargoyles peering out to me; it was very disconcerting and uncomforting. They just looked so realistic and ready to fly out of the stone confines they remained within. The coals of the fire were glowing an eerie red glow that flooded the heavy polished wooden floors and the elaborate Persian rug. Above the fireplace mantel was a masterpiece of an epic battle scene. The ferocity and passion was so perfectly portrayed it was engrossing. The fierce sweat in their brow and the intensity in their eye as they galloped to their battle were so fascinating.

                The room was beautiful, but it was so gaudy. I couldn’t even comprehend the money thrown at even the smallest and finest details of the room. An urn in the corner probably was the equivalent to the average villager’s annual income. It disgusted me, so many good things this money could be going to instead of frivolous material items. Actual change could be done with that money, help a crumbling orphanage or feed a hungry family.

                Then I was brought back to reality from my philanthropic daydreams with sound of a door opening. A silhouette of a large man stood in the doorway, I froze. The Beast was here to kill me finally.