Beauty and the Beast (rewritten; werewolf style)

Beauty and the Beast (rewritten: werewolf style): Chapter one

okay this is beauty and the beast but with werewolves instead of the beast so i hope you enjoy, however beauty and the beast title is not actually mine, however this story that i have written is because i have written it differently but with only a slight based on the plot of beauty and the beast. so if any of you come up with a better title please tell me, thanks so much and enjoy :D

CHAPTER ONE

i woke. my eye lids slowly lifting up, letting me see the world in another day. i sighed, my breath catching in the air, like the cold fingers of the winter'd air had grasp and stolen my breath as it frosted up in front of me, creating a swirl of mist, clouding my view. i remember my father telling me about it... he called it something... oh yes, he called it dragon's breath, like a cold mighty ice dragon's breath frosting and steaming out his mouth in ragged breaths ready to flame anyone down with his cold heart.

i heaved my weightless but most intense silent burden mine on to my back, as i rose as careful picked myself up and out of the cobweb of clothes i had littered half mindedly on to the floor. it was my domain and my kingdom, the small stretch of space confined by dull turquoise walls and filled with a bed, a closet and a mirror.

I padded my feet over the mounds of clothing to the mirror, and stared blankly at my reflection; the soft dark curls that snaked it's way down my neck and along the length of my back wear the silky locks spiralled to a stop at the small of my back. i gazed steadily into my strange silvery eyes; that reflected the light and glimmered in a way that no grey could ever. my features formed a piece of art on my face. i sighed, i was cursed with this beauty. Cursed forever with this face i cannot shed, i used to think it a gift.; to be able to gain anything i wanted with a smile of my rose petal lips. but soon, as i slept through the dreamless nights, i thought over and over again how my dull and easy life had never made me have any experiences. you may want what i have, but believe me; beauty is a curse. a curse that made me lose my father.

My father. i remembered his dark wavy hair that blew gently in the wind and those mist blue eyes, that shone like a piece of the sky had been captured inside. i remembered what he used to say about eyes... that they were the window to the soul, the eyes always show a piece of you, like anybody that looked closely into you eyes they could see your life flash by, they would see the sorrows and sadness, the happiness and hatred, the love. All trapped like a picture, framed but the shining colour of your iris.

picking up the brush from the table i started to comb through my hair as i ambled to the window, singing a wordless tune that sprang to mind as i went. i peered out from my dark curtain of hair to look at the misted frost on the window, blurring the sorrowful sight outside. i lifted my winter nipped fingers to the glass letting my warmth turn the sparking crystals melt and flood around my fingers, sending tears run down the pane, i rubbed away the tears with the edge of my lumpy jumper sleeve, revealing the winter world to me; the sad black and white world outside; the once coloured landscape had turned white and grey with the cold shadow of winter.

pulling on some torn jeans and a worn out jumper i tiptoed down the stairs, creeping past my step-mother's room, and my sweet little sister's cot. my little baby sister; you could see instantly we were totally different, the two opposites, her chubby like fingers and rosy cheeks brought laughter to whoever saw her smiling face. i was the moon, she was the sun; i only reflected her light. i was winter, she was spring; i brought the cold sadness to the world and she came after me, picking up the life i left behind me, bring colour back to the world.

i spied my wellies from under a pile of coats, and as i dug for my treasure i picked up long winter's coat to save me from the winter's bitterness. i pulled on the wellies as i flopped down the hall, clumsily making my way to the door as i hopped and balanced, trying to succeed in my task of walking while tugging the tough rubbery boots on to my small feet.

as i opened the door, the wind hit me, it's cold winter hands caressing my face, running it's long spidery frosty fingers though my hair, making it whip and writhe around like a snake on fire. the wind started to throw small flecks of ice on top of me, showering me with a dusting of white, like sugar on a cake. i huddled the warmth of the coat around me, tightening my clasp on the woollen hat i had shoved on last minute. my cheeks started to dye red with the tip of my nose.

i took a step on to the cake like world, letting my wellies make a crunch in the sugar, leaving a perfect indent. evidence of my existence. the darkness had faded to grey as light entered the world. i trudged along, making my own path where ever i went. i loved this feeling; the cold biting at your face, sending the little shards of frost in your face, where it got caught up in your eye lashes, like a winter monster.

i froze. not because of the constant cold chased behind me, but because of the large wicked wolf in front of me, his lips pulled back to revel his white shining pearls of teeth. the fangs looked ready to bite into my flesh. his pelt was a luxurious dark brown, his belly streaked with grey and white, softening his features slightly. however the look in his eye just said it all, it was filled with hatred and sorrow, twirling into a spiral of despair and rage; they were a striking gold colour, the famous eyes of the wolf, each shone like the colour it was made of, reflecting the weak light of the dusky morning into my eyes.

he was beautiful. he was a beautiful death as well. the longer i stood gazing into the eyes of a wolf, the shorter amount of time i would be dead by. i suppose it wasn't such a bad way to go, to let those sharp clean teeth rip through my thin barrier of soft ivory skin to spill the precious blood out on to the snow. i would die quickly in the winter's grasp and my remains would freezing till they found me, my sliver eyes left lifeless, i wonder if that happens, if your eyes suddenly change once you die, whether the soul walks out the window leaving an empty room inside. can you see it in the eyes? the absence of a soul?

a growl ripped through him, his teeth barring revealing the milky teeth again. i knew my fate, i looked around, all i saw was wood, my mindless tracks winding away into the distance; i must have ventured far from home.

an idea came to mind, a strange crazy idea. i suddenly felt the urge to touch the soft brown fur in my hand, to felt the bristles brush against my face, as i wanted to bury it into his ruff. i reached forward instinctively; i was going to die anyway, this will just make it quicker... a last request. i took my feet forward letting my self almost drift over the snow. he stood there patiently his growl growing with each step i took, for some reason he stood there not moving, just letting his displeasure show through his jaw.

i leaped the last meter, closing the gap between us, his teeth bit deep into my wrist, i could feel them sink slowly into my flesh, and dug in hard as i buried my head into the ruff of his fur coat, the soft bristles brushed my face, the texture was not how i imagined it, i thought it was soft as velvet and a fluent as silk, and each hair was individuality, however together they formed a shied, tough and strong, however the hairs still tickled my cheeks and my hot breath still made them flutter like a bird's wings.

i lay there, half draped over the large wolf, my face was hidden from the cold in his chocolaty fur.

Suddenly he collapsed, and his teeth retracted, he no long struggled to free, but he started to writhe on the cold snow, he lay there in my blood soaked patch. i still felt the blood drip down my hand the holes in my wrist no visible because of the river flowing out of it. i pulled my hat off and made an attempt to stop the bleeding.

i attention turned back to the wolf at he bent back into to odd angles, his fur started to mat from the sweat and droplets of melted snow mix with my blood. the then i heard a ripping sound, like a butterfly coming out of a caccoon but ten thousand times more louder, it bounced of the trees, vibrating them slightly, shaking the snow from their branches.

i fell to ground as a man started to shake and writhe his way out the wolf, i lay on the ground shocked into silence, my brain start to stop working as it puzzled over the scene in front of the fur disappearing leaving cream soft skin underneath and the handsome face of a man...

****

just a small taster/start of the story, should i carry on???