Handsome & the Hideous
XIV
On the fifth night of tense dinner dates
Handsome could bear it no longer.
‘What is this place? What are you?’
He clutched a dinner knife in his hand,
waiting for the creature’s reaction.
Pain flickered in her eyes, replaced with
dark amusement, a chuckle rumbling from her throat.
‘I don’t remember the name of this castle,
or what people called me, except Queen.
I was human, I think, but cursed with this form,
and the others made invisible,
unable to communicate, unable to die.’
He wanted to ask, ‘Can you die?’
but bit his tongue.
His invisible shadows relaxed their restrictions,
allowing him free roam in the safe areas of the castle.
Some sections were still decayed from time,
too dangerous to venture in, too dark to tempt him.
He never saw the creature outside the dining hall,
but sometimes felt hungry eyes following his movements.
He’d escape into the gardens, feeling others nearby
but able to ignore them, relax.
It had been two weeks of the terrifying dinner arrangement
when this routine was interrupted.
He was basking in the sunlight, drinking in its light,
eyes shut in contentment, when a rustle
near his side alerted him to wariness once more.
A small picnic basket rested on the grass,
with its sides patched up in places from years of wear.
He lifted the lid, spotting fresh apples, cherries,
carrots and potatoes inside, still coated in dirt.
He shuffled through them, searching for a clean snack
when his fingers slid over a smooth cold surface
sitting hidden at the bottom.
He removed an apple and wiped it clean
with his shirt sleeve, trying to appear casual
while his heart thudded with excitement
and fear in equal measures.
A knife. Someone had given him a knife.
The only time he was left alone was in his room,
when he was using the chamber pot.
He forced himself to stay in the garden
another hour before heading back
and announcing his need for privacy.
He examined the knife, sharp and ready,
and wrapped the blade in two handkerchiefs
before hiding it down his back, though his trouser belt.
That night at dinner he didn’t avoid her gaze,
he watched her as closely as she watched him,
calculating, searching.
‘Why do you never eat?’ he asked,
‘Isn’t the food to your liking?’
Her attention strayed to the table and he
sprang up, pulling the dagger from its hiding place
-the handkerchiefs unravelling in the process-
stepping on the table and
plunging the knife into her heart.
Scribbled Thoughts 