Beauty and the Beast

A rework from the original story centuries ago.

♣ ◊ ♣ ◊ ♣ ◊ ♣ ◊ ♣ ◊ ♣ ◊ ♣ ◊ Beauty and the Beast
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The sun painted the horizon orange. A tall castle stood on the outskirts of town, the extravagant garden stretching across the estate, adorned with roses—red, pink, white, purple, orange, and yellow. Water shot from the fountain, creating ripples around the stone angel statue. Bluebirds rested in the birdbath. A red robin pecked in the grass for a worm before flying to the nest in the tree and feeding her two baby birdies.
The young prince, Thorne, threw a party in his garden every spring to celebrate the changing of the season. Nature was a love of his. He looked handsome in his white suit with many gold buttons that brought out his wavy, dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. People from all around the kingdom attended this celebration.
A feast was spread out on several tables—from hors d'oeuvres to a selection of meats and soups. Wines and champagnes lined a separate table. Chatter circulated the garden, some guests gossiped, others gave compliments to one another, and a few had meaningful conversations. A woman in a black raggedy dress entered the gate, her brown hair disheveled and filthy.
The guards approached her, and the prince followed in the back. “I mean no interruption. Please spare a bit of bread… a drink of water? I haven’t eaten in days.”
“You come to my event to beg?” he asked in a snarky voice.
“Please, sir, I meant no disrespect. I saw the beautiful garden and the spread of food—just a little compassion… a little kindness…”
The butler said, “Leave this garden at once. We cater to no filthy, ugly old hag.”
The prince looked the woman up and down. “You look like the inside of a chamber pot, and you reek of discarded fruit rotting for days.” Thorne turned to look at his guests and laughed—some laughed, others had faces of disgust, and a few had looks of sympathy. Embarrassment changed her face’s shade to a light red. “Compassion? Kindness? From me? I’m a prince and you—” he looked at her with disgust—“are but a filthy, smelly peasant. Be gone… go starve somewhere else.”
Laughter erupted from the guests again, and the prince let out an open-mouthed laugh, tilting his head back. “You have plenty of food. Please, sir. I only ask for a scrap of bread and a sip of water.”
“I will give you nothing! Now, begone, you filthy trash!”
The woman muttered in a dejected tone, “I hoped there would be some kindness in you.”
Wind blasted through the garden, knocking over chairs, causing lanterns to flicker, and leaves to blow in multiple directions, sticking to some guest’s clothes. Gasps and screams filled the garden. One guest dropped his silver wine cup, staining part of his white pants burgundy. Another guest dropped her plate of hors d'oeuvres
Apprehensive expressions were frozen on their faces. The prince looked around, fear coming to life in his eyes.
The woman pointed her finger at the prince, her brown eyes converting to red, and her veins pulsating against her skin, giving the appearance they were about to explode. She spoke, staring into his eyes. “A heart as cold as yours shall curse you with a colder form. Your cruelty shall surface, revealing its true identity. Those who cater to your every desire shall be rooted to your coldness. Your heart, empty of love, shall live in eternal darkness... for only the love of another who can see past your ugliness shall break the curse.”
The butler clutched the wine tray as his feet locked to the ground, eyes wide. His figure shimmered—and vanished—reappearing in a painted picture on the garden wall, his face forever frozen in panic. The maids screamed, but their voices faded as their bodies became transparent, reappearing in the pictures lining the castle hallways and rooms.
The prince rose six feet into the air, frightening the guests into a panic. They fled from the garden as his scream of terror twisted into the roar of a beast. Hair sprouted from every nook and cranny of his body. His human teeth launched from his mouth, replaced by jagged, monstrous fangs. The cold blew from his heart, contaminating the land.

Darkness rose over the castle… and settled upon the cursed.

In the days that followed, a brutal snowfall buried the castle grounds. The fountains froze mid-spout and all but one rose bush wilted to black. The tables of untouched food remained, now blanketed in mold and ice. Though the rest of the kingdom knew normal seasons, the castle suffered an eternal winter—365 days a year of cold.








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Floral arrangements spread a pleasant aroma outside the shop. In the town square, business boomed. The scent of sizzling onions and sausages sizzling arose from the pushcart, where a vendor poured a fizzy drink from a brass dispenser for a thirsty customer.
Young Belle strolled down the cobbled streets in town wearing her yellow dress with orange flower designs, white hosiery, and yellow heels with an orange rose in the center. Five street musicians in black suits with black hats played an instrumental version of The Andrews Sisters' classic Hold Tight, Hold Tight (Want Some Seafood Mama).
“Morning, Jazzers!” Belle greeted with a polite smile.
“Morning there, Belle,” said the trumpet player.
The others nodded, not wanting to stop playing. She waved to a man painting a bouquet on the second story of the flower shop. “Pleasant day for a stroll!” the man on the ladder said, tipping his head.
Bread rising in the oven from Townhouse Bakery left an appetizing scent in the air. “Apples! Five cents!” a man said in front of the produce mart, where tall crates of apples sat. “Red apples, yellow apples, green apples, and everything in between.”
“I’ll take one red and four green,” Belle said, smiling as she held out her basket.
The produce man took his time placing each apple into the basket. “Baking a pie, Belle?” he asked, chuckling as he placed a green apple in the basket.
“Yes, Lambert!” she answered, giggling.
“My green apples are the best for baking!” he said. “I gave you an extra red apple.”
She smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “Aww, you’re sweet!”
As he blushed with redness, she squeezed his cheek. She approached Darrel, the sausage vendor, inhaling the sizzling onions and juicy hot dogs. “Ah, hello, Belle, my beautiful! The usual?” he asked, grabbing a bun and setting it on a plate.
“Yep!” she answered, watching him use the tongs to set a sausage into the bun. “Ketchup, mustard, and onions, and a sweet iced tea, please!”
“You got it, gal!” he said, spreading mustard onto the fat link..
She opened her mouth to take a bite when she noticed a homeless man picking up discarded food and adding it to a basket with a broken handle. Dirt covered his brown coat and pants, his black shoes full of holes. Her heart sank. Without hesitation, she walked over. “Excuse me, sir, I don’t mean to intrude. The vendor overdid it with the onions and its just too much for me. Would you like this? I’d hate to throw it away.”
“And you want to give it to me?” he asked with a look of disbelief. “I don’t want to take your lunch.”
She knew the guy was obviously prideful, and she respected him for that, but couldn’t bear to see him relying on discarded food. “The tea has too much ice for my taste, so take that as well”—she handed him the hot dog and iced tea.
His fingers trembled as he took them. “I haven’t eaten in three days. I don’t know what to say. People usually pretend I’m not even here.”
“Well, I see you,” she said, smiling. “My produce man gave me an extra apple today. It’s too many for me to eat,”—she handed him the apple as well, making his hands full.
“Thank… thank you, you’re an angel,” he said with grateful eyes, about to shed tears.
“No, not an angel. Just a girl who dislikes a lot of onions on her hot dog and too many bits of ice in her tea. Enjoy,” she said, smiling again as she noticed Mrs. Reynolds struggling to carry her groceries across the street.
The sausage vendor watched her walk over to assist the old woman. “Too many onions on the sausage and too much ice in the tea,” he muttered, chuckling.
The shoeshine man turned to him and said, “She knows how to keep a person from embarrassment.”
“I know she does. Last week, a homeless man was too shy to take her hot dog and tea, so she told him she realized she wasn’t as hungry as she thought she was and would throw it away, anyway, and she got the man to take it.”
“What a beautiful heart,” the shoeshine man said, smiling while he looked at her proudly. Darrel nodded.
Mrs. Reynolds had five over-packed brown grocery bags. Belle grabbed three of the bags and said, “Let me help you with those.”
“Oh, thank you, Belle, honey,” Mrs. Reynolds said as Belle reached for a fourth bag. “Oh, no, no, honey, I can carry these two.”
“Are you sure?” Belle asked, adjusting the bags in her arms, so she didn’t drop them.
“Yes, I’m sure, dear.” Belle walked with her to her little apartment next to the produce mart. “Set them down on the ground.”
“I can take them in for you,” Belle said, gripping the bags harder, trying not to drop them. “I can even help you put your groceries away.”
“Oh, no, my grandson is staying for a couple of days,” Mrs. Reynolds said, setting the two bags on the ground and motioning for Belle to set hers down. “That fourteen-year-old boy loves helping his grandmother. He says enjoys spending the time with me.”
“That’s a beautiful bond.”
Belle set the groceries down. Mrs. Reynolds reached out to give her two bills of paper money. The currency around this kingdom and surrounding kingdoms had a picture of King Johnathon, a noble king known for his generosity and overall kindness to others. He died of a sudden illness. Bills came in denominations of ones, twos, fives, tens, fifteens, twenties, thirties, forties, fifties, seventy-fifths, and one-hundreds. Coins were pence, two pence, five pence, ten pence, twenty pence, forty pence, and fifty pence.
“No charge, no tip,” Belle said, waving the money away. “It’s reward enough for me to hear about your family.”
“Well, thank you for your help, dear,” Mrs. Reynolds said, placing the money back in her small purple change bag.
A young woman stood by the fountain singing and playing the guitar. Belle walked over and tossed four coins into her open guitar case, which had six single bills and an odd number of change. “I venture into a world that rejects understanding; the world’s cruelness is a home with no heart.”
The girl stopped playing as a bright smile spread across her face and her eyes lit up. “Belle! It always brightens my day to see you!” she said.
“How’s your fanbase, Lucinda?” asked Belle with a small giggle before tossing two more coins into her open guitar case.
“Aw, you are such a kind girl, Belle,” Lucinda said, putting her arms around her and giving her a tight squeeze. “Please don’t ever change,” she spoke softly.
“That I will never do, I promise,” Belle said, letting out another small giggle before Lucinda broke the hug.
“Mr. Franklin has bread on sale—fifty pence,” Lucinda said before inhaling the aroma of fresh bread baking.
Belle inhaled and exhaled, a pleased smile coming upon her face. “I need to buy two loaves. My father is returning from his trip today and I would like to have some bread to serve him with the vegetable soup I’m making him.”
“Aw, I bet he’ll love that!”
“Oh, yes, he loves a yummy soup. That also reminds me… I need to pick up some black pepper, carrots, and corn ears.”




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The white horse galloped through the woods, the day half over. The temperature drop ten degrees since Barnaby rode deeper into the woods. He was returning from a ship sale. Builders from all around sold the ships they built. He wanted to purchase one to sail around the world, but unfortunately, the prices were beyond what he could afford.
His hair, the same color as snow, blew in the chilly wind, and his ocean blue eyes watered from sleep deprivation. The pillow and his head would meet as soon as he returned home. He couldn’t remember what direction to go, and the further he rode into the woods, the colder it became. The temperature went from a little chilly to freezing, showing his breath as he breathed.
The green scenery soon changed to all white as the horse galloped through snowy land and the day’s light faded, replaced by the darkness of night. A tall iron fence caught his eyes. Brown weeds encircled the bars. A lopsided halfway open gate made the garden on the other side look abandoned. The horse neighed as he motioned it to stop and got off. He entered the gate. The snow-covered garden looked abandoned for many years, but the enormous castle behind it looked unoccupied.
Dead weeds and moss covered a majority of the gray bricks. He knew there was a story to tell about the water in the fountains that had stopped midstream. Coffee pots and silver trays sat covered in snow and ice on tables. This garden had sadness written all over it—except for one small section—red, pink, white, purple, orange, and yellow roses reminded him of his daughter, Belle. After long trips, he always returned home with a rose for her.
A memory played in his mind—Belle on her sixth birthday. She reached for a rose from a bush he planted for her and a thorn pieced her thumb. Tears formed in her eyes, followed by a whimper, and she asked him how something so beautiful could cause pain. His answer: ‘Sometimes you must experience pain to appreciate beauty.’ She learned a lesson and developed a love for roses.
He bent a stem, snatching a purple one from the bush and sniffed the bulbs, breathing in the flowery scent. The sound of feet stomping in the snow alerted him he wasn’t alone. Fear of being caught trespassing made his heart race. A hairy brown paw gripped onto his shoulder and he turned to see the most hideous-looking beast he had ever seen. Barnaby gasped and let out a half scream.
Fangs stuck out from the mouth and the eyebrows were bushy and a darker brown than the rest of his hair. The whiskers looked sharp. He had the nose of a black bear and the pointy ears of a wolf. “You dare pick a rose from my garden?!” the beast said.
“I—I—I mean not to trespass,” Barnaby stammered. “For—for—forgive me!”
“You’re a thief! You stole something that does not belong to you! For that, you will be my prisoner!”
The hairy beast snatched him up by the collar of his shirt and dragged him into the castle, forcing him down the cold hallway lit by only a few candles. Voices came from the people in the pictures on the wall. “Help us!” “We’re cursed! Send for help!”
A lady servant trapped in a picture of the dark woods spoke. “I’m trapped in the picture! Please—”
“Stop begging for this thief’s help!” the beast interrupted, still dragging Belle’s father.
“But, Master—”
“I said quiet! Just because he’s the first visitor since our misfortune, it doesn’t mean he knows how to break the curse! He’s a thieving peasant who I’m taking to the tower!”
Barnaby gasped for breath, hands shaking and heart beating faster than it’s ever beaten. “Please, sir, I’m sorry for stealing from—”
“A piece of trash like you belongs in the East Tower!” the beast said, dragging him up the hard cement steps and to the door before pushing the wooden door open, throwing him inside, and slamming the door shut. “You will die and rot here!” he hollered through the small window in the center of the door.
It felt that an everlasting cold draft lingered in the room. The room had no section to sleep except for an old wooden table full of scuffs. The room had six small windows with three bars a piece. Part of the castle garden was visible from the window. “P—p—p—please release me, sir!” Barnaby begged. “My daughter will be heartbroken, and possibly even grow ill if I don’t return home!”
The beast grunted, clenching his fists, thinking the man dug his own grave when he stole from the garden, and now he needs to be buried as punishment.


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The bell ran as the door opened. Incense scented the room. A row of chairs lined up along the wall. Four pictures of every season hung on the walls. A set of orange and purple beads hung in the doorway that led to the next room, where a round table with a black tablecloth stood—a crystal ball sat in the center.
A woman with wild strawberry blonde hair and a face covered in freckles sat on the other side of the table. Belle spread the beads in the doorway, entering the room and taking a seat at the table. “May I help you—” the woman paused. “Oh, you haven’t needed my services for at least four full moons, Belle. What’s troubling you, child?”
Belle’s blue eyes filled with tears. “My father is missing. He should have returned home by now. Please help me, Kaya! Please tell me where he is!” she begged, slamming four single bills on the table and twenty-five pence. “This is all I have. Please tell me it’s enough!”
“Kaya is here to help,” the woman grinned, eyebrows shooting up. She placed her hand over the bills and coins, pulling them toward herself. Belle’s lips quivered as tears trickled down her cheeks as she thought about her father. Kaya stopped pulling the money in her direction and pushed it back to Belle. “You have always done me good, Belle. No charge for this one.”
Belle wiped her eyes, sniffling. “Please accept money. I know you could use it. Times are difficult and demanding of money.”
Kaya placed her fingertips on the bills, looked into Belle’s crying eyes. “You struggle for survival just as I do, child. Consider yourself a valued customer. You can pay me for the next one.” Kaya pushed the money closer to Belle, who stared at it for a second before placing it in her pocket.
“Thank you, Kaya.”
“Yes, of course.” Kaya rubbed both hands over the crystal ball and smoke. “Hear thee, source of knowledge. Please present to my eyes the answers we seek.”
A beam of light glared from inside the crystal ball and faded as Belle’s father appeared cold and tired. A tray sat in front of him, which held a small bread loaf, slices of roast beef, a bowl of creamy mushroom soup, and a tall tin cup of apple cider. “Father! It’s Father!” Belle said, excitement in her voice. “Please tell me you know his location.”
“Yes, Belle,” said Kaya, looking further into the crystal ball. “The old Dark Winter Castle on the outskirts of town, the one where snow forever remains on the ground.”
Belle’s eyebrows lowered as she became confused. “The old creepy castle with the terrifying stories about the hideous beast who lives there?”
“That is the one, yes,” Kaya answered.
Belle gazed into the ball and saw her father staring at the tray with sad eyes. “Someone is holding him prisoner?” she asked, looking up at Kaya with tears watering her eyes.
“He is locked in a room, yes. The tray of food gives an explanation that someone is feeding him. I cannot get a clear picture of who. A dark presence occupies that room.”
Belle sniffled. “Please eat something, father. Please don’t starve yourself.”
The crystal ball turned dark before returning to the normal shade. “The spirits have no more answers at the moment,” Kaya said.
“But he is locked in that old creepy castle at the edge of town?!” Belle asked, standing up.
“Yes, child, he’s locked in one of the towers. I’m not able to receive an answer on which tower.”
“I must find him!”
Kaya thought even though Belle knew of the place, it may still be wise to provide her directions. “To get to this castle, you’ll go to the end of town where the bookstore is, enter the woods and ride until you reach snow-covered ground. The castle should not be hard to find once you enter that snowy area.”
Belle rented a brown horse from Tipton Buggies, Carts, and Horse Rentals. The horse galloped through the streets of town. Though in a hurry—while panic remained on her face—she waved to the musicians, Darrel at his sausage cart, Lambert stocking green apples, and Lucinda singing her heart out with a crowd of eight watching, which made Belle proud of her.
She reached the bookstore, halting before the woods, a dry tickle in the back of her throat. The nightmarish stories she heard about the monsters that lived in the castle had her nerves shaken up. The two-story building had lit candles in the windows. A flickering sign hung in the window—Grimm’s Bookstore and Coffee, and down below was a white sign—New, used, and rare books.
In the window, she saw a set of round tables where some people were reading and sipping coffee. A young man and woman ate scones, and a man sat by himself eating a chocolate chip cookie and sipping on a white porcelain cup of cappuccino. She thought this may be the last time she saw civilization, fearing something inside the castle would kill her.
She entered the woods, not looking back, signaling the horse to speed up. She hoped she could rescue her father before something atrocious happened. The warm weather ended, replaced by a chill, and the further she rode into the woods, the colder the weather, and soon, the sky filled with darkness.
She came upon the castle grounds and jumped down from her horse, wasting no time to tie it up to prevent escape. Dead weeds covered the front door of the castle. She entered the garden, searching for another entrance. A tall brown door that a round knocker caught her eye. She grabbed the doorknob, and the hinges creaked as she pulled the door open.
Candles provided light in the hallway. Her heart pounded as she proceeded down the hallway. As she walked at a slow pace, people in the pictures ran in circles. The maid yelled, “Help me, please!” as something growled in Belle’s face.
She turned and gasped, her eyes widened as the beast stared at her with anger in his big blue eyes. “You’re trespassing on my property!”
With her body quivering, she said, “Please, sir, I—I mean—my father…”
“What about your father?!” he growled.
“I—he—he nev—never returned home, and I got word he may be in this castle,” she explained, hyperventilating.
She didn’t expect him to know the whereabouts of her father. He growled in a lower tone this time. “Your father, is he a man with snowy hair?!”
“Y—y—y—y—yes,” Belle stuttered.
“Come with me!” the beast demanded, yanking her toward the steps and forcing her to walk up the steps leading to the tower door. She peeked in the small window in the middle of the door, her eyes widening, and an apprehensive feeling coming over her. “Belle!” Barnaby yelled out, running to the door.
“This man stole a rose from my garden! I take pride in my roses, for they’re the only color in my garden!” the beast said.
Belle turned to the beast and said, “I—I’m truly sorry, sir. I will pay you for the rose,” she said, reaching into her pocket to pull out an unknown amount of bills. She would've given him every bill and coin she had to free her father.
“You think you can come in here and pay me for a stolen rose?!” the beast asked before growling. “I have no use for your money! He will stay in there until he becomes a corpse!”
“Belle, get out of here! Save yourself!” her father cried out.
Belle glanced at her rocky hands, tears flooding her eyes as she was about to cry hard. Seeing her father locked away like a criminal at his age pained her heart. She knew what she had to do. “He’s just an old man. Take me instead.”
The beast raised his eyebrows, shocked by her offer to sacrifice herself. “You mean you want to trade your freedom for his?”
“Y—y—yes… please let him out and throw me in there instead!” she pleaded.
“Belle, no! Don’t make a deal like that!” her father said, banging on the door.
He growled under his breath, giving her the eye of suspicion. “You understand you can never leave this castle?! You will rot, just as he would’ve!”
“I—I understand.”
“Very well! If that’s what you wish!”
The beast stuck the gold key in the hole, unlocked the door, and opened it. Barnaby’s eyes grew enormous and his heart jumped as the beast locked his arms around him and picked him up. He walked past Belle and shoved her into the room before slamming the door and locking it with the key. “You let my daughter out of there!” Barnaby demanded, kicking his feet as the beast carried him through the castle and walked to the side door entrance.
He pushed the door open and set him up on Belle’s horse before tying his waist with a rope, so he could not jump off. “Don’t ever come back here again!” he yelled, slapping the horse on the behind. “To town you go!”
The horse neighed and galloped into the woods. “Please take me back and release my daughter!” he begged as the horse galloped further away.
Once he was out of sight, the beast returned to the castle, slamming the door shut. He returned to the tower and opened the door. “You will be my servant!” he said, yanking her arm and pulling her out the door. As he dragged her down the hallway, he gave his list of demands. “You will dust every room, polish the silver, scrub the floors, and wash my clothes!”
“Ye—ye—ye—ye—yes, Mr.… uh… I don’t know your name.”
“My name is not important, but if you must know, it’s Thorne!”
“I—I—I’m Belle, sir,” she said in a weak voice.
The hideous creature stopped in front of the library entrance and pushed the door open, and pointed inside. “You will start with this room! You will dust every table, every book, and every area of the room!”
“Yes, sir,” she said in a sad voice.
As she walked into the room, he said, “When you finished here, you may go to the kitchen to have some food.”
Her eyebrows rose with astonishment. “You trust me enough?”
“This is your home now!” Those words hit her like a blow. It felt as if she had lost every person she loved and every possession she owned. “You may go anywhere in this castle you please, but you must never leave the castle grounds! I will return later to check your work!” he said before storming away, letting out small groans.
Books of all genres and types sat on the tall shelves—mystery, fantasy, horror, romance, crime, thriller, nonfiction titles, maps, atlases, cookbooks, how-to guides, books on magic, and others. The tall arch-shaped windows offered no light, for the darkness ruled the sky. Kerosene lamps and candles were the room’s source of light.
A cart with cleaning supplies stood in the corner. She picked up a feather duster. As she dusted the shelves, her eyes teared up. She set down the feather duster and collapsed into a chair, her lip trembling as grief washed over her. The library’s warmth did nothing to ease the ache inside her. She thought of her father’s kind eyes, Darrel’s silly grin when he got her hot dog just right, Lucinda’s sparkling eyes, and Mrs. Reynolds’ endless tales of her grandson. Faces that once brought her joy now felt like shadows of a lost world. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. It could be worse,” a voice murmured.
She gasped, bolting upright. “Who’s there?” she called out, her voice choked with fear. She cried her eyes out, burying her face in the arm, soaking her skin with tears.
“Over here,” the voice spoke again. She did a slow walk around the room, searching for who the voice belonged to. She walked past a picture. “Stop walking and turn your head to the left.” With her body shaking and heart pounding, she turned her head to the left and saw a picture of a barn with a lady dressed in a black and white maid’s uniform. “That was an ordeal,” she spoke, pacing back and forth.
Belle’s body shook as she gasped for air. The maid took a seat on a tree stump. “You—you’re in the picture?” Belle asked, her face muscles tightening from this baffling discovery.
“An old woman brought a curse down onto this castle,” the maid explained. Belle brushed her hand over the picture, but it felt like a normal oil panting.
“I—I’m sorry this has happened to you,” she said in a sympathetic tone.
“This castle holds many secrets. Stay strong, sweetheart. It’s noble what you did for your father—trading your life for his. I could never see myself making such a foolish decision.”
“Yeah, well, if I had the chance to relive that moment… I’d make the same decision,” Belle explained, wiping her eyes.
The main chuckled. “A foolish girl, in deed,” she said before walking out of frame. Belle gave the picture a hard look.
“Hey, where did you go?” There was no response. “Hello?”
She gave up scratching her head about the picture and continued her chore. Though she was his slave, she still wanted to do a thorough job of dusting the room. She dusted ear every book, table, window, candle, cabinet, nook, and cranny. The hour-an-half chore tired her and brought thirst. She opened the door, standing in the doorway, wondering where to find the kitchen. “Where is that kitchen?” she asked herself.
Across the hall, in a picture of a ship, a tailor wearing a black and white suit took two steps closer. Her heart jumped when she heard, “Take a right, walk to the end of the hallway, merge left, walk halfway down that second hallway, and take a right, entering the dayroom, and then take a right and walked to the double doors and in the next room is a kitchen, or in if you walk to the end of that second hallway and take a left, walking through that doorway, you can enter the kitchen that way as well.”
Still freaked out by the people in the pictures, she could feel her anxiety winning. She still wasn’t used to people in pictures speaking to her, but she tried to accept it. “Um, thank you,” she said, closing the door. “But of course, madame!”
She followed his directions, deciding to take the second hallway to the end and take the left into the kitchen. The beast stood with his back turned, near a counter on the other side of the room.
The kitchen was quite large, aluminum skillets, pots, and pans hanging from the ceiling. A wooden table in the center of the room had several cutting boards, bottles of herbs and spices, and a small sink in the center. The appetite-wetting aroma of soup entered her nostrils. On the porcelain stove sat a large aluminum pot with a flame underneath.
Mixed feelings wrestled within her. She feared this angry creature and didn’t want to be a burden, but she wanted to inform him that she finished dusting the library. She walked through the kitchen toward him, her heart slamming against her rib cage, her mind racing with horrible thoughts. As she stepped up behind him, she said, “Excuse me.”
He turned, biting the head from a chicken. She gasped, covering her mouth as blood squirted from the body like a geyser and he chewed the head, making a crunching sound. He growled softly, moving the chicken-body behind his back. She thought, ‘How barbaric’, but tried to remain calm, telling herself this was a normal way for him to eat. “Yes?” he asked in his deep, monstrous voice.
“I’m finished the dusting of the library,” she said in a cracked voice.
“There is soup boiling on the stove. You may have some! And in the fridge, there is iced tea and fresh lemonade. Help yourself to these, eat, and then you will scrub the hallway floors.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, her voice still cracked.
She felt shy helping herself to food and drink that wasn’t in her own home. She fetched a wooden spoon and ladle from the counter, poured some soup, and filled a glass of iced tea from the fridge before walking into the dining room to sit at the table. The soup was creamy, and the broccoli was soft, and the iced tea was sweet and cold, hitting the spot. The beast set a plate of crackers down. “I thought you may like these for your soup,” he said before reentering the kitchen.
This thoughtful gesture surprised her. In a way, it made her feel special. She wished he would have stayed long enough for her to thank him, at least.
The dining room table looked as if it would seat fifty people. Tall green and white candles burned in the center. The pictures on the wall were of flowers and trees, and they didn’t appear to have any people in them. When she finished her meal, she returned to the kitchen and set her bowl, glass, and spoon in the sink.
The beast was nowhere to be seen at first, but then he exited the pantry. “Now you’re here, I will no longer have to dine alone. I would like you to join me for dinner.”
His demands and pushy behavior started building up anger inside her. “Join you for dinner?” she repeated. “I would rather starve than dine at the same table as you!” His bushy eyebrows tightened as a mad face appeared. “You force me to clean your castle and wash your clothes and expect my company at the same table as you? No, I will not!”
She saw an expression frozen on his face that she was not expecting—hurt. His eyes looked sad—with a couple of tears forming, but not escaping his eyes—as he frowned. She felt like she had just broken his heart, but the aggravation of being trapped in a castle fought with her heart. His hurt expression converted to an angry one. “Very well! My clothes need washed! Take care of it!”
“I don’t know where to find your clothes,” she said. “I don’t know my way around this castle.”
A soft growl from him made her feel like a burden. He walked her upstairs and showed her where she could find his clothes, along with some rooms he wanted cleaned. Six hours of chores wore her out. She headed back toward the library to find a book to read, but stopped when she saw sitting at the dining room table by himself, scraping the salmon on his plate with a fork, but not eating it.
He stared at his meal with a dejected expression, absently scraping his fork across the salmon without ever lifting it to his mouth. She stepped back into the shadows, just out of his view, her gaze lingering. For all the harshness he’d shown her, something about the way he sat alone at that vast table stirred a quiet ache in her chest. It had struck her—how unbearably lonely it must be, dining in silence every night with no one to share it.
An hour or two passed. Though the darkness outside made it difficult to tell the difference between day and night, her body knew it was bedtime. She was polishing the last piece of silver with a white cloth. The bottle of polish smelled like oranges. She yawned and began placing the silverware back into the wooden case. The beast entered the room, watching her. “I’m so sleepy. I don’t mind sound like a burden, but must I sleep in that cold tower?”
He scratched behind his ear, thinking after the help she gave him around the castle, she deserved a warm place to sleep. “There are guest rooms upstairs. The one at the end of the hallway, near the west wing, has a bed already made up, and there are fresh clothes in the wardrobe.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, getting up from the table.
“Yeah, it’s alright,” he said, watching her leave the room.
Since she worked around the castle all day, she was getting to know her way around the place. The guest bedroom had a large poster bed, a purple blanket, a white dresser, and green, white, red, and orange candles. She lit two of the red kerosene wall lamps. She dropped back on the bed and rested her head on the pillow, drifting off to sleep.


♡♣♡♣♡♣♡♣♡♣♡♣♡♣♡




Still tied to the horse, Barnaby rode into the town square in a panic. “He has my daughter! There really is a beast in that castle! It’s not just a story! Help!”
All eyes watched him. Darrel held a bun, ready to place a hot dog inside for a customer. The musicians stopped jazzing to listen to the commotion. Losing focus of stocking his inventory, Lambert dropped a green apple. A man with a cigar in his mouth stared with his eyebrows lowered, wondering if this man was drunk. Barnaby tried to slow the horse, but couldn't control it because the horse was also spooked.
Lucinda counted bills from her case. “Sixteen franks—not a bad day. I knew getting the jazzy guys to play their instruments would work.
Barnaby rode past her. “The beast is real! He has my daughter!”
Lucinda’s eyebrows shot up as her mouth fell open. “Belle’s in trouble?” she said to herself.
The horse halted as Kaya jumped in front. She walked around to the side and untied Barnaby. “He has Belle! I don’t know what to do!”
“Keep calm,” she said, helping him down from the horse. “It looks she found you.”
“Huh? Who found me?” he asked, eyebrows lowered I confusion.
“Belle came to me looking for you. She said you were late returning home.”
“I was there! Now she’s there! And he wouldn’t take me back!”
The words weren’t making any sense to her. “Here, here, sit down on this bench,” she said, guiding him over to a wooden bench in front of her shop. “Now, calmly tell me what happened?”
He exhaled, gasping for air. The excitement had him winded. “I picked a rose from the garden of that old abandoned castle—The Winter Castle, I believe everyone calls it.”
“Yes, The Dark Winter Castle because of the snow and the all-day darkness. Continue…”
“This—this—this hideous beast grabbed me, accused me of trespassing and stealing and threw me in a tower. Belle came looking for me, made a deal with the ugly beast… if he let me go, he could take her, and now—”
“He has her,” Kaya interrupted.
He nodded, still gasping for breath. “Are you aware of the curse placed in that castle?”
Shaking his head, he answered, “No, I believe those stories about a creature living there were fake until I saw it for myself.”
Kaya knew more about the castle and the curse than what she told Belle when she was in the shop looking for her father. She didn’t want to blurt out the truth, but she didn’t want to cover up the truth or embellish it either. “Shh, shh, relax and calm down.” He gasped, still trying to catch his breath. “Please listen to me—her being in that castle right now is the start of a wonderful thing.”
“What? A wonderful thing?” he repeated. “How is my daughter being trapped in a castle with that—that—that hideous monster a wonderful thing?!”
“It’s time you heard a story, Barnaby,” she said, staring into his eyes.


♡♣♡♣♡♣♡♣♡♣♡♣♡♣♡



Belle awakened after a nine hour sleep. She stretched and yawned, but felt like it was the best sleep she ever had. She opened the curtain and gazed at the garden. Snowflakes fell, but weren’t heavy. Although everything in the garden had no life, she couldn’t help but notice the roses glowed.
She walked downstairs and the appetizing aroma of sizzling bacon entered her nose. The people in the pictures watched as she used her nose to follow the aroma. She entered the kitchen to see the beast frying bacon in one skillet and sunny-side up eggs in another.
“I prepared breakfast,” he said. “Since you refuse to dine with me, you can eat in the dining room and I’ll remain in here.”
Guilt weighed heavily on her. She felt like a horrible person after being so abrasive to him. He slid three eggs onto a plate, and then five strips of bacon, and four slices of toast. He handed her the plate and her hand met his hairy paw. “Thank you,” she said, a small smile forming.
“You—you’re welcome,” he said.
She headed to the dining room, stopping in the doorway when she noticed the table set in a cozy manner—flames danced on two white candles in their silver holders. He had set the table for her—a glass filled to the top with orange juice, a knife, a fork, a spoon, a cup of steaming hot tea, a jar of sugar, a cup of honey, and one jar of strawberry jam and another with Concord grape. A glass pitcher of orange sat next to a tray containing a stick of butter.
She turned to see him at the kitchen table cutting his eggs with a fork. It was eating her up inside, watching him eat alone. One would think someone close to him just died, judging by the sadness on his face. “Would—would you like to join me?” she asked, smiling, hoping he would accept her offer.
His eyebrows perked up in surprise, along with his ears. “You would like me to join you?” he asked, his blue eyes lighting up.
“Yes, please join me in the dining room,” she answered, smiling before she turned to walk into the dining room and sit at her place-setting.
“I’ll join you, yes.”
He pulled out a chair and sat on the other side of the table. The wall clocks ticked in the awkward silence. “I would like to say thank you for setting a place at the table for me.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, giving her a small smile.
“May I ask you a question that may be rather personal?” she asked, hoping he would say yes.
“Yes, you may,” he answered, buttering his toast.
She hoped the question wouldn’t insult him. “Is eating a chicken head something you do because you’re a beast?”
The question embarrassed him. No one had ever asked about his eating habits. He wanted to explain the reason behind the barbaric snack and the furry body. “I haven’t always been an ugly beast. I was once a human being… a cruel and heartless one. Since my transformation—my punishment—I’ve developed animal-like traits and instincts. I lose control.”
“Your punishment?”
Hesitation came over him, but he wanted to be honest. “A woman came to my door in need and I gave her the harshest treatment.”
“Oh.” She nodded before a small smile appeared. The story made sense. She could see that inside his soul, he had a reason for his cruelness. She knew something made him the way he was… before he became the beast,.“I want to say I’m sorry the way I mistreated you.”
The heartfelt apology stirred up emotions in him. His bitterness had a hold of his heart for so long. He wanted to say he understood her reason for being shrewd, but he also considered she may have acted that way because she was torn apart by her father. A smile came upon his face. He knew the smile wasn’t an attractive one, but to her, the smile was authentic, making it the perfect smile.
“If you will dine with me this evening, I will prepare your favorite dishes,” he said. “I am not demanding your presence. I am simply requesting it.”
The clock ticked in the silence as he waited for an answer. He saw something in her he wished he could have possessed a long time ago—compassion, empathy, and the understanding of other’s feelings. A warm smile came upon her face. She said, “I’d be honored to dine with you.”
She thought about how heartbreaking it was to know he had dined alone every evening. This wasn’t the only reason she accepted his dinner invitation. She could see that deep inside, he was a sad human being who was capable of love, but feared giving it.


♡♦♡♥◊♥♡♦♡♥◊♥♡




“Are you saying my daughter could be the key to breaking some kind of curse on that freak?” Barnaby asked.
“No, I’m saying your daughter is the key to breaking a cure,” Kaya said, setting down a tray of with a silver teakettle, two porcelain teacups, a bowl of sugar cubes, a cream pitcher, and cookies.
“That’s no human,” he said as she poured tea from the kettle into a cup and handed it to him.
She hoped the story she just told him would give him a better understanding. “The beast you saw and spoke to, he was once a prince,” she explained.
“That thing was once a man?” he asked with a look of disbelief.
“His name is Thorne Lockwood. Every year he threw an annual spring formal in the castle garden, inviting people from around the kingdom. At the very last one he hosted, a poor old lady, not asking for much—a piece of bread and a glass of water. She hadn’t eaten in days, and she looked hungry. He turned her away, humiliating her in front of his guests. Reminding him of his cruelty, she placed a curse not only on him but on his servants, his land, and all his possessions. Eternal darkness and a forever snowy winter fell over the kingdom, casting a spell both cold and cruel, just as his heart was, and he transformed into a beast.”
Barnaby found this story a rather sad one, but even if he felt a little sympathetic, getting his daughter back home safe and sound was his focus. Kaye continued. “I was a guest at the party, but just as everyone else had done, I ran out of there.”
She placed a sugar cube in her tea and poured in two drops of milk. A dirty look appeared on his face. “Well, I hope you’re not asking me to leave my daughter in that terrifying castle.”
“Barnaby, Belle has a good heart, and an unselfish person like her can reverse all that’s been done to Thorne, his castle, and the servants. In order for the spell to be broken, he must realize his coldness and have an understanding of kindness. Belle can show him that. I know you want her rescued, but my crystal ball has been giving me the massage that the spell will be broken soon.”
He groaned under his breath, thinking he would feel like a poor father leaving his daughter at the hands of a vicious beast, but also thought about her kind nature and how she could walk through a field of dead flowers and make them look pretty with her inner beauty. His brain wrestled with choice.



♦◊♥♡♦◊♥♡♦◊♥♡♦



An elegant table for two awaited its guests, adorned with a festive feast: roast turkey with stuffing, scalloped potatoes, buttered corn on the cob, beets, baked cod, golden-brown rolls, and a rich banana cake topped with cream. A bottle of red wine stood beside a pitcher of iced tea, while flickering candles ran down the center, casting a soft glow over the spread.
Each place setting was arranged with care: a dinner fork, salad fork, and fish fork to the left of a fine china plate wrapped in a rolled Christmas-green napkin. Above, a bread plate sat alongside a dessert spoon and knife, with a crystal water glass and a gleaming golden wine goblet. To the right of the plate, a dinner knife, fish knife, and soup spoon completed the setting.
Soft music played in the background, drifting in from a nearby speaker. The room smelled of roasted herbs and sweet banana cake. From the hallway, Belle strolled through the doorway with a dressed she got from the closet—a floor-length satin gown in sea-green with an off-the-shoulder neckline that brightened her blue eyes. Her hair was half-up with curls and had a silver hairpin shaped like a leaf.
The beast entered from the kitchen, wearing a black tuxedo that brought out the blue in his eyes. “You look beautiful this evening,” he said with a warm, authentic smile.
“And so do you, sir,” she said, smiling also with her face red from blushing.
“You don’t have to keep calling me sir,” he said, chuckling. “You can call me by my name—Thorne.”
“Oh, I can do that,” she said, smiling again.
The two sat next to one another, devouring the wonderful meal the Thorne prepared. He said he would prepare all her favorite foods, but she didn’t want to be selfish and thought some of the foods she favored, he may not, so she asked him to surprise her.
The turkey was juicy, the stuffing soft and full of flavorful herbs, the diner rolls soft and buttery, the banana cake had a burst of banana flavor, and the iced tea was brisk and sweet.
This meal would forever stay in her memory. After dinner, he had something he wanted to show her. “I want to show you something,” he said, getting up from the table.
He lead her out of the dining room and down a long hallway to tall wooden double doors. She thought she had seen most areas of the castle, but the following one she missed. “Stay out here for a moment and don’t come in until I tell you,” he said, chuckling with a smile before opening the door on the right and entering the room.
Excitement overwhelmed her. She loved surprises, finding them rare because she didn’t receive many of them. Both doors opened, revealing an enormous ballroom. Her eyebrows raised as her mouth fell open at this amazing sight. The place looked immaculate. It felt like stepping into a dream she never wanted to end. Magic surrounded her.
Candlelight bathed the entire room with a soft, golden glow. The last time the room saw life, the castle itself possessed it. A golden glow covered the floor, adorned with red and purple rose petals, leaving a pleasant aroma. The soft voice of Celine Dion and Peabo Bryson singing Beauty and the Beast played on a record player at the bottom of a tall and wide set of stairs with a golden banister wrapped in green garnet.
“Where are you?” Belle asked, turning her head in different directions.
His hairy paw extended from the right. A smile came upon her face as she turned to lock her fingers around his long claw-fingers. He placed his arms around her waist and pulled her in close and their bodies swayed, dancing to the soothing music. Their eyes met, smiles blooming as warmth entered their hearts—love quietly inspiring every graceful step.
As she rested her head on his shoulder, she picture sunlight beaming through the windows. His inner gentleness made her feel safe in his arms. “May I ask you a question?” she asked in a soft voice.
“You may ask me anything you like,” he answered.
“What happened to you—I guess what I’m asking it what got you to the point of your bitterness? I think there’s a reason for it, or you wouldn’t have turned the lady in need away.”
He exhaled, his breath warming her neck. “When she entered the garden, she was only looking for a little food. I turned her away because I thought if I was in her position, where I hadn’t eaten in days, I was dying of thirst—no other person would lift a finger to help me. Barely anyone in my life has ever cared about me. I extended her the same treatment I thought I would receive if that were me, and that was wrong of me. As a prince, I should have been considerate and looked after those in my kingdom.”
She thought this confession only proved further he possessed inner beauty. “The important thing is, you learned from this experience. We all do things we regret and sometimes it takes an eye-opening experience to bring out the better in us,” she said, messaging his back with her fingers.
“You’ve made me realize this.” He pulled away, gazing into her eyes. “Belle, consider the deal I made to free your father and keep you prisoner no longer binding. You’re free to go anytime you please.”
Her facial expression was a difficult one for her to read. He didn’t want her to leave, but knew it would be selfish of him to keep her any longer. A smile came upon her face, followed by a silence. “I do wish to return to my father,” she said. “He’s not healthy and is in need of my care.”
“I understand.”
A sad feeling hit the pit of his stomach. Seeing her go would be painful and leave a painful void in his heart, but he knew it was wrong to further keep her against her will. “For right now, you’re in need of my care.”
His ears and eyebrows perked up. “I am?” It made him joyful to hear this.
“Yes, Thorne. I’m realizing now, my father trespassing on your land and stealing the rose from your garden was fate. You were a lonely soul who had no one, and I am the guardian angel sent here to show you the love and compassion you truly deserve.”
These words made his heart melt. “You are a girl full of love, and your warmth and understanding makes you a beautiful person.”
“Aww, you’re a kind beast,” she said, blushing with a kind smile.
He smiled back, feeling her warmth.
A tall window on the left side of the room shattered—a rock bounced across the floor, brushing the rose pedals. Their heads turned and hearts jumped before they both ran to the window to peek outside. A lynch mob waved torches and shattered other windows with rocks. Belle let out a loud gasp, grabbing her heart. Thorne’s eyes widened as he backed away with a fearful look.
“Free my daughter, you beast!” Barnaby demanded, waving his fists.
“Father, I am free!” she hollered.
She hoped he would listen. Kaya stood next to him. “Reconsider this witch hunt, Barnaby! Please don’t do this. She is going to be fine.”
“I am not leaving her in there, no matter how much you try to convince me!” he explained, his eyebrows raising and eyes growing big as he spoke.
“Getting a mom gathered together is not a good idea,” she said, not breaking eye contact.
“Father?” Belle said to herself, noticing him in the crowd.
She counted sixteen members of the mob. One thing was for sure—she would not let them injure a hair on Thorne’s body. Villagers began shouting. “Kill the ugly beast!” “Free the girl!” “We’re coming in there if you don’t let her go!” “Kill him!”
Thorne backed further away, eyes growing wider as an anxious, nauseating feeling stirred in his stomach. “This is no beast! He’s a human being! He’s a prince! A man!” she hollered, moving her right arm in front of Thorne, trying to protect him.
The crowd’s yells continued. “That’s no man!” “An ugly, hairy, filthy, disgusting thing like that could never be a prince!”
Barnaby saw a look in his daughter’s eyes. This was the same look he saw every time she saw a helpless baby bird right before she placed it back into the nest. He turned to the mob. “I made a mistake! She’s telling the truth! There’s been an awful curse placed on this man! Please don’t harm him!” he begged.
The others disregarded what he said. Belle turned to Thorne with panic in her eyes. “We need to get you away from this window!”
An abrupt breeze smacked against her face, causing the hair on her head to rise. A grunt came from Thorne. She turned to see his big eyes looking fearful, and then she noticed the heart area of his chest pierced with an arrow. “Thorne!” she cried out, grabbing his arm as he fell backward.
Gasping for breath, he said, “Belle, I—” as she knelt to the floor, catching his body.
She couldn’t believe what had just happened. This had to be a nightmare. It just had to be. “Talk to me!” she said in a cracked voice, eyes watering with tears.
“I—I want you to know… you… you… you showed me what it was like to love,” he spoke in a weak voice, caressing her skin with his hair brushing against her skin.
“I believe I was your second chance,” she stated, bottom lip quivering.
“I—I… never got to finish the dance.” He flinched and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
“Thorn?” She rubbed her hand over his head, brushing the front of hair. “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.” His body grew limp. “Thorn! No, no, no, no, you can’t die! You can’t! You just can’t!”
His body had no breath nor heartbeat. The mob found their way inside by climbing through the shattered window and trampling on the rose peddles. They didn’t come any closer to Belle or Thorne “It’s in hell where it belongs,” a man commented.
Belle turned to the man with tears in her eyes and said, “His name is Thorne! He has a name! It’s Thorne!”
“Come on, let’s get out here,” said another man.
Barnaby approached Belle, guilt written all over his face. Watching his daughter cry brought sadness to him. “I didn’t know he meant so much to you,” he said. “I feared for your life, but then I came here and saw the way you treated him. You cared him like one a sick animal.” Her bottom lip quivered as she held her love with tears dropping into his hair. “Please forgive me, Belle.”
“Father, can I please be along right now?” she asked, keeping her eye on Thorne.
“Uh, yes, yes, I’ll be outside. I’ll—I’ll wait for you,” he said, not knowing what else he could say.
She caressed Thorne’s cheeks as her father walked out the ballroom door. “You deserved better,” she said, burying her face into his neck and sobbing, gasping for breath.
“You’re gone,” she said, clinging to him.
“Belle, love this pure has power,” a voice spoke, echoing throughout the ballroom. Bell turned to see an elderly woman in a large picture above the doorway—she stood in a grassy field of colorful flowers. “It needs one more spark to ignite it.”
Belle sniffled. “I don’t—I don’t understand.”
From another large picture, a tall, thin servant in a black suit, standing by a merry-go-round, spoke. “A broken heart forgets to beat. You brought full life back to it.”
“His heart was already full of life. He just needed someone to remind him he was deserving of love,” she said, sniffling and gasping for breath before she locked her lips onto his.
The candles flickered, some candlesticks falling. The wind’s breath blew at the rose pedals, circulating them in the air. One at a time, every window in the room shattered. Belle turned her head, watching with an apprehensive feeling. Her hair blew in all directions, some standing up on her head. The wind caught every candle in the room, extinguishing the flames. “What’s happening?!” she yelled out in a panic, her eyes enlarging.
The pictures on the wall shook, backs bouncing against the wall. The rose peddles circled around their bodies as she continued to hold him in her arms—the red and purple converted to gold.
A black shape appeared, suspended in the air within the center window. It slowly transformed into an old woman wearing a black, ragged dress, her wild hair dancing in the wind pouring through the open glass. She pointed to Belle and her beast.
“The one who sees beauty in the ugly breathes life into it,” she said, her brows lowering into a grin as she spread her arms and tilted her head back.
A golden beam of light burst from Thorne’s chest. Belle looked down—his heart, once pierced by an arrow, was now aglow. The arrow caught fire, disintegrating into the beam as the wound began to close. Behind the witch, a warm gold light flared brighter. “Beauty brought out beauty in the beast,” she whispered.
Then she vanished into the light.
Outside, a dim light in the sky from a star miles away twinkled before enlarging like a sun expanding. Flames shot from this star, forming a sun and providing light over the land around the castle and in the ballroom.
The enslaved servants within the portraits dissolved into gold dust, swirling through the air before reforming—maids, butlers, chefs, and coachmen—all restored to their true forms.
Thorne’s eyelids opened and the blue in his eyes sparkled as the hair began to burn away from his skin. The nails in his paws shrunk as fingers reformed. His hairy feet shrank, the claws receding as toes reformed. The jagged fangs shot from his mouth like arrows shooting from bows, his normal teeth sprouting from his gums, which were bleeding.
“Thorne? You—” Belle froze, eyebrows rising
His pointy ears gradually transformed into human ones and the rest of his hair burned away, leaving the normal skin of a man. As his body-fat shrank, his body returned to the normal size, and the tuxedo remained on him, looking baggy. The wind’s blow ended, the rose pedals dropped back to the floor, and the room was now lit up by the sun’s light.
Belle turned to look outside to see the snow melting into water as the dead grass blackened and fresh green grass sprouted from the ground. The frozen water in the fountains melted before rising and pouring as it used to. A soft hand caressed her face. She looked down to see a handsome prince now in her arms. Her eyes widened with a look of disbelief. “You’re a—you’re a-- you’re a—you’re a man… a handsome man,” she said.
“And you’re a beautiful angel, Belle,” he said, looking up at her with his deep blue eyes.
The forgotten kingdom was now restored and love ruled the air. That spring, a wedding took place in the castle garden, which was adorned with white roses mixed with purple and pink ones. Belle and Thorne stood under a wedding arch decorated with red, purple, and white roses. A minister in a black suit and blue tie read from his bible.
Barnaby saw the happiness in her eyes and was proud to raise a daughter full of love. The maids, butlers, gardeners, chefs, coachmen, and people from all around watched the two as their souls became united in wedding bliss. Their eyes closed and their lips meant now sealing the contract of marriage.
And in the heart of the once-forgotten kingdom, love bloomed eternal.