The Fabled Journal of Beauty

by Boyd Brent

  “She sounds terrifying …”

  “All the more so for the lightning that lit up the sky behind her.”

  “What did she want?”

  Tears welled in the Beast’s eyes; he drew a deep breath and said, “Shelter.”

  I sat back in my chair. “I don’t think I’m going to like what’s coming next. Hobbs refused her?”

  “It is at least some comfort that he did not. I would not have heaped the guilt for what happened next on his shoulders for all the world.”

  “It was you who refused to offer her shelter from the storm?”

  The Beast nodded. “Hobbs sent for me. I arrived to discover that she’d jammed her staff in the door and thrust her head and shoulders inside. As I descended the staircase, she must have recognised me as the master. ‘Please! I wish only to come inside until the storm has passed,” she pleaded. “Dry my clothes before a fire! Drink a cup of hot soup!’”

  I cleared my throat uncertainly. “Her requests … they hardly sounded unreasonable.”

  “Indeed, they were not. But her appearance was such that the servants had shrunk back in horror. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I heard whispers of evil witches, infectious plagues and worse besides. Believe me when I say she looked plague-ridden. Oddly, I can still remember the sight of her bare feet … gnarled black toes with four-inch nails that scraped upon the ground. I was young and hot-headed, and decided I could not risk allowing her entry.”

  I sighed. “I fear that was not the end of it.”

  “Your fear is well founded. I told her to leave and never to darken my door again. But far from retreating, she burst through the door and sent Hobbs careering onto his back. She held up her staff as though about to channel a thunderbolt through it. ‘Will not one amongst you take pity on a poor old woman?’ she cried, her face contorted with rage. Her wretched plea only served to make the servants shrink back further. I glanced about at their frightened expressions, their shaking heads, and again told her to leave my house or risk violence at my hand.”

  “You threatened her?”

  The Beast nodded. “And have regretted doing so from that day to this. That is when she gazed daggers at … at …”

  “At who?”

  “At … at the portrait of the young man that hangs above the fireplace. He’s … he’s my brother … a Prince,” stammered the Beast.

  “Your brother?”

  The Beast looked away and nodded. “Somehow the witch knew who he was and said she would place a curse on him to spite me.”

  “How odd she knew that the Prince was your brother. He’s so …”

  “Handsome? While I am a beast?”

  I shrugged regretfully.

  “There is no need to feel guilty about the comparison. The possession of eyes is hardly a crime.”

  “So, where was your brother at the time?”

  The Beast cast his gaze about fretfully. “He … he was elsewhere in the palace … perhaps in the library, for he loved books.”

  “And the spell, well, did it end his life?” I said, my heart thumping with apprehension at the coming answer.

  “No, she did not kill him,” murmured the Beast, “rather she banished him to endure a lifetime of loneliness. And told me that I would never gaze upon his face again.”

  “And you haven’t seen him since?”

  The Beast raised a paw and gripped his face as though it were a mask he could pull away. He lowered his hand slowly and said, “I have not laid eyes upon him from that day to this.”

  “And have you never thought to look for him? After all, the witch must have banished him somewhere.”

  “Look for him?” said the Beast, his eyes flashing up to meet my own. “If only it were that simple.”

  “Have you not at least tried?”

  The Beast seemed unsure of how to answer my question. “… My appearance, it prevents me from venturing beyond the palace grounds. People fear that which they do not understand. I would be set upon by angry mobs, seen as a monster.”

  “It's true … people can be so cruel.”

  The Beast sat back in his chair. “After she cast her spell upon my brother, she turned her rage upon my servants, informing them that from that moment on, they would mirror their stations in life and become invisible and silent, never to be seen nor heard again.” The Beast clenched his fists. “I have neither seen nor heard them since that day. Indeed, your father was the first person I had seen in years.”

  I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “You must have been so lonely.”

  “Doubtless the very punishment the witch had in mind.”

  I sat back in my chair and, having ordered my thoughts, said, “Ever since seeing your brother’s portrait, I have found myself …”

  The Beast leaned forwards, most attentively, in his chair.

  “That's to say,” I went on, “I have seen something in your brother's face that has quite arrested me and …”

  “And?”

  “I had a dream about him …” I glanced at the Beast whose expression was so hungry that it compelled me to go on. “In the dream, I found and spoke to your brother, and most bizarrely, it felt as though I was the only person who could.”

  The Beast sat back in his chair, and his eyes filled with a longing to tell me something that he was either unwilling or unable to. It was then that I heard myself utter, “I … we must find the Prince together and rescue him.”

  The Beast's eyes opened wide. “Rescue?”

  I nodded.

  He clambered to his feet, turned his back to me and said, “But that is surely impossible …”

  I jumped up, walked the length of the table and placed a hand upon his shoulder. “I beg to differ, for, in a land such as this, anything is possible.”

  The Beast looked at my hand on his shoulder. “Maybe, within reason,” he said quietly.

  “What’s more, we must right all the wrongs that have happened here.”

  “And how do you suggest we do that? Where even to start?”

  “With the witch that cast the spell in the first place. If anyone knows where your brother has been banished, it is her.”

  The Beast turned to face me. “You’re suggesting we find the witch?”

  “Yes! You said so yourself; she was old and carried a staff. How far can she have travelled?”

  “Far indeed if she turned her staff into a broomstick and took flight.”

  “We must at least try to think positive.”

  “Maybe I have forgotten how.”

  “Then I shall remind you.”

  “Even if we found her, why do you imagine she would … that she'd give us any clues as to where to find my brother?”

  “All I know is that if we don't try, we shall never know. Surely, it's a chance worth taking. And we might also discover a way to free the servants from the curse.” As I finished speaking, a jug of water that had been floating in the air fell and smashed upon the ground.

  “Hobbs …” sighed the beast with a shake of his head. A writing pad and pen appeared and hovered over the broken jug. We both watched as these words were hurriedly scratched upon it. 'Please listen to our visitor, Master! We've waited so long for someone to bring us hope.'

  The Beast looked at me. “I will need time to think …”

  “All right. But I, we'll expect your answer tomorrow night. Won't we, Mr Hobbs?”

  'Indeed, we shall, Madam.'

  Journal entry no. 11

  After dinner, I returned to my room, my mind alive at the prospect of lifting the curse and of rescuing the young Prince who, although I had never met outside of a dream, now occupied my every waking thought.

  So, when at last I fell asleep and found myself returned to the same woods as before, I could not have been happier. I gazed about for sight of the Prince but could see nothing but trees and blue skies. “Hello?” I called. “I have such hopeful news. Please reveal yourself.”

  There was no reply.


  “But you must be here. Why else would I have been returned?”

  “Your optimism becomes you …” came the voice of the Prince from behind me. I spun around with hungry eyes but saw no one. “Where … where are you?” I breathed.

  “Less than a metre away … standing right in front of you.”

  “Admittedly, you sound very close, but … I can’t see you.”

  “Then please, you must try harder.”

  “Try harder?” I said, going at first boss and then bug-eyed.

  “No!” blurted the Prince.

  “Sorry. But how else am I to try harder to see?”

  “Clearly … well, clearly it is not enough to look for me with your eyes alone,” said the prince, sounding increasingly alarmed.

  “All right. But to my knowledge, I possess nothing else that enables me to see.”

  “Of course you do.”

  I placed my hands upon my hips. “Well?”

  “Your extraordinary heart.”

  “Oh, I see. Or rather, I still don’t,” I said, lowering my hands.

  “Close your eyes,” said the Prince gently

  “Okay …”

  “Good. Now cast your mind back to the first time you laid eyes upon my portrait …”

  “Okay, yes, I see it, in my mind’s eye …”

  “Now tell me, what did you feel in that instant?”

  Talk about fishing, I thought. “I felt … well, I felt a deep connection to something, to someone …”

  “To see me, you need only focus on that connection again, and then open your eyes.”

  I opened my eyes and beheld the Prince standing before me, his expression so grave that I felt compelled to reach out and place a palm upon his cheek. “… I see you now.”

  “I am more relieved than you can imagine,” he replied, his eyes searching my own as though for a glimpse of his own reflection. “And I see you …”

  “And, I’m not a disappointment?” I asked, shamelessly fishing for a compliment of my own.

  The Prince smiled. “How could a person capable of seeing beyond my appearance to the person beneath ever be a disappointment?”

  I laughed nervously. “But you are handsome. So why assume such things about me?”

  The Prince took a moment to consider his reply. “Believe me when I tell you,” he began, having chosen his words carefully, “that the nature of the curse is such that only a person of considerable empathy, kindness and strength could ever see me.”

  “I thank you for your kind words and have some of my own to tell you.”

  “You bring news, then?”

  “The very best! I have spoken to your brother and have all but convinced him that we must rescue you. To this end, we will seek the witch who banished you here.”

  “But … would not such a quest be exceedingly dangerous?”

  “Yes, but you know what they say: ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained,’” I replied, making light of my fears.

  “Then you should know that the witch is as fearsome as she is cruel,” said the Prince, casting his gaze about, “so, your own banishment, or worse, may be gained.”

  “None-the-less,” I said, standing just about as tall as I could, “we will find and, if necessary, plead with her for some clue as to how the curse may be broken.”

  The Prince ran a shaky hand through his hair. “You would really take such a risk for me?”

  “Not just you. The servants have suffered greatly as has your poor brother. Surely, you have all suffered long enough. More than paid your price for not providing the witch sanctuary that night.”

  The Prince nodded. “You will get no argument from me. And my brother has agreed that the time has come to make such an approach?”

  I shrugged. “He’s going to give me his decision at our meeting tomorrow.”

  The Prince sighed. “I’m sorry that you should have to negotiate with a creature of such loathsome appearance.”

  “Nonsense! I should not have to explain to you of all people the importance of looking beyond the surface.”

  “Then, you don't find my brother as loathsome as his beastly nature would suggest?”

  “Not at all. Your brother is not in the least bit loathsome,” I said, feeling oddly protective of him.

  “So, you find him, if not friendly, at least courteous?”

  “I can assure that beyond luring me to his castle in the first instance, your brother has been as friendly and courteous as it is humanly possible to be.”

  “Humanly? So many years have passed since my brother has had another to converse with he fears he may have lost his humanity.”

  I placed a hand upon the Prince’s muscular shoulder. “It's been so long since you've seen him. How is it that you know your brother’s fears so well?”

  The Prince blinked some moisture from his eyes. “… Know? I, I don’t know; I just assumed …”

  “Please do not fret …” The prince took my hands in his own, raised them to his lips and then, having kissed them tenderly, opened his eyes urgently. “I … I have been found … she's pulling me back to my confinement!” One moment, I was looking into the Prince’s pleading eyes, and the next, I had woken with a start.

  I climbed out of bed, put on my dressing gown and picked up the lit candle from my dressing table. I hurried from the room in the direction of the library where I hoped to discover the Beast.

  I arrived in the library, upon the usual upstairs balcony, and seeing the Beast stood over a table below, I breathed a sigh of relief. I padded down the spiral staircase, skirted across the floor and arrived at the table.

  “What is the meaning of this?” breathed the Beast, clutching at his chest.

  “Forgive me, I … I had no wish to startle you but …” My attention had been drawn by the numerous books and maps on the table. “You're planning a journey …” I smiled, and, leaning over the map, I saw that the Beast had written a question mark over an area of caves. As my heart quickened at the possibility of it being the witch's lair, I looked up and met his inquisitive gaze. “I’ve had another dream about your brother,” I said.

  The Beast averted his gaze in that way of his that makes me suspicious that he has something to hide. He looked down at the map. “And did you speak with him?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said, leaning forwards and attempting to see his dark eyes that might reveal his secret.

  “And what did my brother have to say for himself?”

  “He was buoyed by the news that we're going to look for him,” I said, casting my gaze over the books and maps. “You’ve been doing some research? Please tell me this has something to do with locating the witch?”

  The Beast turned, stepped towards the fireplace and looked into its flames. “It does,” he murmured.

  “And this X,” I said, lifting the map from the table, “is it the location of her lair?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” said the Beast quietly.

  “Hardly. Not least because you have done all this research. So, is this the location of the witch, or isn’t it?”

  “It is my best guess.”

  “So,” I pressed, “your mind is made up that the time has come to do something about this curse?”

  The Beast returned to the table and surveyed the documents. “I suppose it must be …”

  “So, we leave for the witch’s lair tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes. They say that there is no time like the present.”

  The Beast placed a claw on the map and traced a line of blue that ran from the location of the cave through the hills and countryside to another location upon a cliff top. “We are here,” he pointed out.

  I leaned over the map. “Really? I had no idea that your palace was built on a cliff that overlooks a lagoon.”

  “Why would you? You approached from the front. Now, to journey to the cave my research suggests is where we will discover her lair, we must navigate this river by boat …”

>   “You have a boat?”

  “I do.”

  “So, we leave tomorrow, then?”

  The Beast shook his head. “As you might imagine, it has been a great many years since anyone has set sail in my boat. And the last time I visited the lagoon, I noted that it needed repair.”

  “So how long do you think it will take to get the boat ready?”

  The Beast shrugged. “A week at the very least.”

  The Beast’s armchair was just behind me, and as I lowered my myself slowly into it, he said, “Something troubles you?”

  I perched on the edge of the chair and looked down at my clasped hands. “It’s … it’s just that this journey may be dangerous and …”

  “And you have changed your mind? If you have, then I understand. Indeed, it was presumptuous of me to …”

  “What? No. Of course I haven't changed my mind. It’s just that if there’s a chance that I may not see my family again, I would very much like to visit them one last time.” I looked up at the Beast. “If I promise to return within six days so that we might set off on the seventh, would you allow me to go?”

  The Beast placed a paw upon the table as though for support. “Yes, of course you should visit your family before embarking upon such a perilous expedition.” I raised myself up off the chair, placed my hand on his paw and squeezed it tenderly. “You have my word that I shall return to you on the sixth day.” The Beast stared at my hand, so tiny and fragile atop his own, and drew breath …

  “Breathe out …” I urged him.

  “… You can bear to touch such a monstrous … such a monstrous …”

  “Of course.”

  “Forgive me, Beauty. It just that it has been so long since I have felt an affectionate gesture that …”

  “You feared you might never feel one again?”

  The Beast nodded.

  Journal entry no. 12

  This morning I awoke at dawn, and as I opened my eyes, I remembered the dangerous yet exciting journey the Beast and I were to embark upon in seven days. “Once he has repaired his boat …” I said, drawing back my bed clothes. I sat up and smiled at the recollection that I was to see my family that very day. The thought of surprising my father and Betty filled my heart with joy. As I leapt out of bed and reached for my dress, I heard the scratching of a nib on paper. “Molly? Is that you?” I said, casting my gaze about. “I very much hope it is,” I continued as I slid into my dress.