A Beautiful Beast

Once upon a time, in a land far from home,

Lay an ancient tower wrapped in moss and mold.

At the precarious top, rested an ancient tome

Regaling stories new and old

Of heroes and witches, princesses and fairies

And even a few with dragons, coveting gold.

It’s my role as minstrel to make their stories carry

From this forgotten world to your ears

So listen well as this story starts merry.

There was a kingdom surrounded by trees

Ruled by a kind king and his gracious wife

Wanting nothing, yet there was one thing they were yet to be:

Parents.  They feared time as they were midlife.

But a miracle occurred, one stormy night

When a visitor showed up hoping for relief

He was tall, he was thin, his skin was pure white

His eyes sharing untold grief

The queen invited him in to stay the night

He gave his thanks, having nothing to offer but some fruit

Of which the queen accepted and took a bite  

But rather than stay for long, he left before first light

Though something was amiss, it soon left their minds

When the queen was announced pregnant and the kingdom rejoiced

Their joys were stunted when the queen died, leaving a child behind.

The king was overwhelmed, his grief unvoiced

He faded quickly and was dead the next year

With no one to take the throne but the king’s aunt

The kingdom warped under the people’s fear

Their only hope was the young princess, still but an infant

The new queen grew greedy as the child grew near

To the age of coronation, when the queen would relinquish her title in an instant.

The kingdom grew poor by her 16^th year

With the tyrant queen locked in a high-up tower

Surrounded by mirrors, books of spells

The queen dabbled and searched for ancient power.

For the child grew quickly, and the queen’s fear was not quelled.

Kept isolated, the child was not what she seemed

Her skin white as snow, her lips blood red.

Hair as dark as night, with piercing eyes staring into the soul.

She was a sight to behold, eyes followed her tread.

Perhaps she was kind, though no one was allowed close

Women trembled, men fell under her spell

Only soon the air would be pierced by a death knell.

As time passed, she blossomed into an otherworldly creature

The queen fretted, should the child finally inherit the throne

A darkness would cover the land until it was unknown.

For 16 years, she had toiled, and for 16 years her options had dwindled

Until at last one option remained, deadly yet simple.

“Come Huntsman,” she cried, her heart a stone

“Come now and slay this beast for your queen,

Plunge a silver dagger to her heart

And bring to me from the bloodied scene.”

Bowing, the Huntsman began his quest

Calling the child to walk in the woods

But the child was smart, and she soon guessed

The true reason behind this uncommon request.

“Listen to my words, Huntsman

Don’t slay me, let me run away.

Kill a boar, take its heart in hand

Present it to the queen after a day.”

Her croons swayed her captor,

As a spider entraps a fly.

The Huntsman stumbled yet obeyed

The child smirked as she slipped away

In something of an averse goodbye

She glided into the forest, trailing death behind

Living in the dirt and calling birds to her before eating them.

Despite her conditions her manner was refined.

She lived in the shadows and night

For she found the sun to be far too bright

It was one fair night when she found the mine

And the dwarves working away inside

Sweetly, softly she wove them a tale

Binding them to her side

They took her in by her veiled command

Vowing to protect her without fail.

The queen, distraught, over the Huntsman’s deceit

Chose to destroy the looming threat

By making an enchanted apple juicy and sweet

A treat that nothing else can beat.

For the child was a child, albeit a monster

Swallowing her fear, the queen ventured into the forest

Disguised as a hag, covered in mud

Clutching tightly to the apple, her weapon of choice

She wandered the woods searching for blood.

The child ate messy and called with her voice

Follow the blood and find the source of the chorus.

It was midday, the dwarves were away,

The child inside, hiding from light

She stepped toward the house, hoping sight of the apple would sway

Her to open the door.

Moving toward the house, the queen withdrew the apple from her cloak

The child could be seen peering through the slats in the door

With the child’s attention on the fruit, the queen spoke,

“I have nothing to offer someone like you, but an apple I grew”

It was a simple tale, but the child accepted it without a second glance.

Sinking her long white teeth into the apple’s flesh

The child’s eyes bulged as the poison took hold, her eyes dazed as if in a trance.

Choking and failing to catch her breath.

As she sputtered and fell to her writhing death

The queen stood over her until she was gone; then recited a spell

To finish the job, and be sure that all would be well.

From her fingers came sparks, from the earth a shell

To entrap the child, no longer able to harm

She took these precautions for she really meant well

To the people the child would try to charm

The queen fled, for the child’s dwarves would arrive

And no longer would their kindness thrive.

Goodbye sweet child, wretched beast

May forever your sleep never end

For how else could one kill what is undead?