“What is your age, child?” The swollen women spoke to me in a raspy whisper, her black cloak covering her humped back. “I do not know.” I tried to speak clearly, to reach her aged ears. She leaned down closer, to inspect my young face, which I knew was pale and smeared with dirt, “About seven, wouldn’t you say?” “I suppose,” I tried to think about how old I really could be, I could even be nine if I thought about it hard enough.
“Where are you headed to, dear?” The women asked, her wrinkled face looking at me quizzically. “Well,” I stammered, not really sure, “To find some place warm I guess.” The old witch cackled with my answer and her grip tightened around the staff which held her upright. Her hands were large, but bony and interlaced with veins, unlike mine.
I heard something snap in the woods, maybe a twig, and I quickly stared into the cold underbrush, trying to find the source. Only the new snow and the dark shadows dancing against the trunks of the trees met my eyes. There was only me, with my small basket and hood, and the warty woman.
“I know a place,” My attention was drawn back to the old woman with this remark. “There’s a castle up yonder. I’m sure they’d give you a nice place to stay for the night.” The lady nodded triumphantly. “I can’t,” I tried to find the words to explain, “I have no money.”
The witch cackled again and reached down to the forest floor, which wasn’t too far with her slumped figure. Her hand brushed away the inch of snow and uncovered a rose. The rose was of a deep red color like blood, and it had threatening sharp thorns. The women picked it up from where it lay, without bush or root, and handed it to me. I could not understand how someone would drop such a pretty flower there. It should have died in the cold.
“Give this in payment for a room and some food.” She rasped. I held the flower delicately between my fingers, careful of the sharper thorns. “Now quickly, go!” She turned me around and pushed me towards my destination, giving me no time to question the women on the rose or the payment.
I turned to see her one more time from where she had pushed me, but she was gone. Only a gust of frigid air blew through the barren trees. I shivered and pulled my worn cloak around me.
I turned and walked through the woods, knowing what lay ahead. The moon was out, and it casted those ghastly shadows on the forest floor. Everything was silent. All of the life was asleep. The snow twinkled delicately, untouched by any living thing. The only sound was the soft crunch of my boots and the creaking of the wooden limbs above.
I found the road and walked down it towards the castle, which was rather closer than I had thought. It loomed up before me, dark and menacing, and backlit by the sun which had set moments before. I came up to the tall metal gate. The metal was old and silver, curling and swirling with intricate designs and patterns. Frozen greenery, now dead from the cold, had climbed and laced themselves up the gate and the brick wall that stretched on either side of it.
I touched the frozen metal and pushed the gate open. It was not locked. I startled as it creaked loudly, rusted from misuse. I stepped forward tentatively, peeking around the edge of the metal and into the small garden which was buried with the snow. Walking up the small path, I left the gate open behind me, almost like a comforting resort if I needed to escape in the back of my mind.
I stood in front of the singular looming door. I heard the old women in my head, whispering in the dark, ‘hurry, go!’ I glanced at the dying light in the sky and quickly rapped my knuckles on the thick wooden door. It was barely a sound, not reverberating as I had hoped it would in the deep halls of the castle. I had only made a few light taps and that sound was swept away with a brisk gust of air. I clenched my hand into a fist and banged twice on the door. The door rattled slightly on its strong metal hinges, but the noise did not carry.
Someone heard though, for I saw the metal latch on the door lift, and the door opened a crack. A slice of warm light cut across the surface of the darkness, bright and blinding. I shielded my eyes with my arm, waiting for them to adjust to this bright light.
“What do you want?” A boy’s voice spoke through the crack in the door. He sounded maybe ten, a few years older than myself. “I was looking for a place to stay.” I tried to sound strong and sure of myself, but all that came out was barely a whisper. I swallowed, lowering my arm to see who the boy was. All I could see was a small sliver of his face, his bright blue eye, and some curly blond hair which almost fell into his eyes. He was quite handsome with a slightly pudgy face. He held himself regally, but wary. He was obviously the prince here, clean and well kept.
“I’m not allowed to let people inside.” He eyed me with his one bright blue eye, tentative. “Don’t worry, I have payment.” I stuck the rose out in front of me.
There were a few moments where he simply stared at me and my rose. He didn’t seem to understand me, like I wasn’t talking right.
“Cogsworth told me I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” He remarked. I could tell he obviously wanted to let me in, though. “Well,” I lowered the rose I had held out to him, “If I tell you my name then we won’t be strangers anymore.” He didn’t say anything, so I continued, “My name is Belle.” I paused, but he continued to remain silent, like a statue, just staring and unable to speak. “Now we aren’t strangers anymore.” I nodded and smiled, trying to break up the awkward silence.
“Master, where have you gone?” A distant voice sounded from inside the castle. The boy looked behind him quickly and then turned back to me, stumbling on his words, “I’m sorry...I can’t...I must go.”
The door was about to close when a violent gust of air, seemingly out of nowhere, hurled me to my knees and banged the door wide open, making a loud crack. The gust whooshed past my ears, flicking my hair, then died. My hands hit the icy, cobbled ground in front of me and quickly lifting my palms I saw they were scratched. I held my hands curled up to my chest and looked up at the boy who had fallen on his back. He pushed himself up on his elbows and stared into the night behind me.
My heart raced and I turned to find the old women standing there; the one who had given me that rose, which now lay beside the boy. It had been carried by that wind when I had fallen. She did not even seem to notice me. It was like I wasn’t even there.
“You turned away the poor.” The old womans voice was gruff and worn, but carried and vibrated in the air. The boy stammered, pushing himself away from her, eyes wide with fear, “I don’t understand, I didn’t do anything, don’t, please, I didn’t do it!” He crawled backwards, but the woman stepped forward, “You deny this.”
“Please! Don’t hurt me! I didn’t do anything!” His chest heaved with his unheard sobs, and the wind began to pick up again, swirling around the old lady, whipping her cloak about her. I thought I felt new snow slicing at me burning cheeks.  “Maybe you will learn to be a better king with a little humbling.”
The wind picked up and the lady began to glow, as if there was a faint star shining through her skin. Her cloak fell away and she stood up straight, her back fixing itself. I watched as her skin turned smooth and pale pink. The veins and bones disappeared behind soft flesh and her cheeks flushed, full of life and health. Her hair curled, falling to her shoulders in golden locks, and her eyes brightened, the skin about her face tightened, and her lips turned to a lush, soft pink.
She wore a golden crown on the top of her head, sparkling with different gems, from what looked like all over the world, and from down within the farthest reaches of the earth. Her gown was now crisp and fresh as if it had been made a few moments before, and it billowed out from her waist in the style of a royal gown. Her wand, which on the end, had a bulb of gold encircling a green stone, caught the light and held it, as if it were trying to capture it.
She stepped forward and crossed the threshold of the house, her dainty slippers, shimmering silk, tracked in no snow. She leaned down and picked up the rose that lay at her feet. She stroked its petals with her thin finger, feeling their softness. Then she looked down at the boy who lay at her feet who simply stared at her, his bright blue eyes watery, his golden locks askew.
The witch looked down at him, her blue eyes steely cold, slicing through the air with each glance. She then leaned down and touched his forehead, brushing his young skin and soft hair. The boy screamed, making me jump at the sudden sound.
He clutched his head, eyes screwed closed, and screamed as his flesh rippled and his nails began to grow and sharpen. He thrashed on the soft carpet and released his head as one hand began to grow and darken. He yelled in agony as his back arched and his temples rose as horns grew from his skull. All sounds stopped as his teeth extended and sharpened, bloodying his jaw.
His eyes moved to mine, and met mine, showing me the uncontrollable pain and the fear. He was begging me, begging me to help him, begging me to help him understand as he transformed.
His body continued to contort and I couldn’t take my eyes from his. But out of the corner of my eye I saw the lady touch the frame of the house and suddenly there were screams of women and men all shouting, and I heard glass break. I covered my ears with my hands, trying to block out the noise.
The boy was a monster, a pure monster, drooling blood and saliva. His face like some dogs, with fangs protruding from his jaw. His body was covered in fur, his clothes ripped off. His eyes were the last thing to change and the last resemblance of the boy that had been. The light blue, filled with fear, dilated and formed slits. The blue faded into a blackness and was gone. He finally looked away from me as he closed his eyes and water cascaded down his furry cheeks.
The witch spoke in her delicate and tender tones, “You will remain like this until you can find a poor stranger to love you. You must do this before all of the petals on this rose fall off its stem.”
I finally pulled myself together, stumbling down the garden, then bolting for the open gate, not feeling the cold as it bit at my skin and stung my ears and eyes, freezing the tears as they left my eyes.