Handsome & the Hideous
XVIII
The anguish cry was beyond grief and pain,
a sound that signalled the end of all hope.
Jeremy sprinted into the west wing for the first
and last time, the confining castle walls
vibrating with the long, single howl.
The bedroom door was open but he
bumped against other invisible bodies.
The room was filled with frantic phantoms,
some around the bed, trying to revive
a dead man, pressing down on his chest or
forcing liquid through his slack lips.
Others were surrounding the mistress,
a mix of abuse and protectiveness.
One whacked her repeatedly with a broom,
the smack silent against the agonised cry still ringing.
A bowl of boiled water was thrown, trying to
drown out the endless wail of despair.
More threatening objects like cutlery knives and
fire pokers were hovering in the air, locked
in silent combat to prevent further harm to the mistress.
Suddenly the noise stopped, and the world
fell into stillness, silent and untouchable.
Jeremy felt the dream of flesh disappear,
the human world beyond the bubble they could
never pop. A love he could never claim.
But, perhaps, he could still save.
The suspected moment snapped into violence.
Deadly objects were no longer held back,
plunging into the mistress’s monstrous body.
Some turned on Handsome’s corpse,
stabbing in rage or beating with bare fists,
lost hope fueling the desire for desperate
release of…anything!
Like an infectious wave Jeremy saw it
consume her. She wrenched off her gloves,
backhanding a few invisible foes in the process.
She dug her claws through the fabric of her dress,
ripping a giant opening that her shamed body
emerged from. A different howl escaped her,
angry and wild. Huge hands targeted the wall,
nails digging in deep and cracking stone.
She kicked at the bed, wood splintering,
Her eyes were savage as they rested on
Handsome’s still form.
Jeremy left the room, knowing he could
no longer reach her.
There was no saving the west wing
from the household’s chaotic grief.
Two days of blind destruction left little intact.
Even Jeremy’s garden did not survive.
He had anticipated the ruin and saved the
edelweiss, storing them in portable pots
and hiding them in his own private underground storage.
It was a bunker he’d built to protect certain flowers from harsh winters,
never realising he’d use it for hiding.
He remained there, patient, until he heard
a sorrowful howl and the smell of burning.
He left his sanctuary, emerging into an area
once covered in flowers but was now sheltered with their remains.
It was night, the moon was full, but flames
from the castle tinged the view with smoke.
The whole building was burning, and his mistress
was by his hiding spot’s entrance, looking at the
silver globe and howling, hoping one last time.
He presented a precious edelweiss to her,
the heartbroken noise fading out as she noticed.
‘I’m glad I found you here,’ she spoke, voice weary,
as though even words were too hard now.
‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t make him love me.
I couldn’t break the curse.’
Jeremy tried placing the edelweiss in one of her hands,
and noticed the knife she held.
It was the same knife he’d taken from the village
fifty years ago, when he’d known he needed to intervene.
‘Please,’ she begged now, her gaze finding
his invisible one, still seeing him, like always.
‘Please save me.’
Like everyone else, he knew the curse by heart,
had seen it scribbled on the castle walls by
desperate souls trying to decipher it.
‘Only one who truly loves you will be able to harm you.’
He gently took the offered knife
and watched her knelt to the ground,
gaze never leaving his, gripping his edelweiss.
The blade had been lovingly cared for,
sharp and ready, but he knew he’d still need
force behind his movements.
‘I love you, always,’ he said.
The response in her eyes made it possible
to believe she’d heard him.
He was still saying it, sobbing,
as he forced the dagger into her heart.
A sharp intake of breath left her,
a relieved smile on her face.
He held her large body as best as he could
as the light faded from her eyes.
She didn’t change back into who she once was,
he preferred it that way.
He didn’t want to hold a dead stranger.
He widened the opening to his storage bunker,
dragging her body inside, so no one could harm it.
He knew they’d felt her death,
they’d all felt the moment their half-existence
became permanently eternal.
Any hope of breaking the curse dead with her.
But he’d do it again, always, to free her.
Outside their shelter the world continued to burn,
the castle a smouldering ruin,
his garden a trampled dream.
The forest was alit, ghostly apparitions
sparking flames as they left forever.
There was no reason to stay any longer.
When Jeremy emerged there was nothing left.
He spent years, lifetimes, finding materials
to built his mistress a worthy, final resting place.
A tomb fit for a queen,
with only an edelweiss carving
engraved on its surface.
Some say he remains there,
the tomb surrounded by a wondrous garden.
Some hope he left,
and found some peace at viewing
human life around him.
As for the others…
When a bump in the night scares you,
when a shiver runs down your spine,
when you feel the presence of the dead
know this is not imagined, it’s a sign.
They came from the land of dead whispers.
Undead, they are felt, but remain unseen.
Their fate determined, their curse can’t be broken,
because they could not save their kind, suffering queen.
Scribbled Thoughts 