Scribbled Thoughts

22:31

Handsome & the Hideous

VIII

The moonlight illuminated the glistening

water gushing from the fountain.

An opaque darkness announced a

waiting figure as Handsome drew near,

having circled the grounds to annoy his captures.

The ominous shape seemed familiar,

starring in jumbled memories from his arrival,

a hideous creature standing in the same spot.

He stopped at a safe distance,

realising the shadow was dressed like

a noble lady, her face hidden but

her clothes highlighting her feminine figure.

She stood stiffly, at attention,

enormous hands clasped before her.

Her nervous energy contradicted her presence

but he couldn’t force his legs to move forward.

‘H-hello,’ her rough, husky voice echoed

into the evening, ‘Welcome to my castle.’

He almost ran, but invisible hands pressed

against his back, preventing any retreat,

but not forcing him forward.

‘Thank you,’ he squeaked, stinging his pride

enough to clear his throat in annoyance.

‘This place saved my life.’

She shuffled, taking a step closer,

then retreated again and

lowered her hands to her side.

‘Would you care to join me for dinner?’

A path of candles decorated the floor

on either side of the entrance,

an illuminated labyrinth leading

into the vast dining hallway.

Shadows consumed the corners and walls,

keeping them secrets from Handsome’s sight.

Instead, they followed the path of fire

where wax leaked and pooled at their base,

creeping across the floor.

They walked over cracked marble, perfectly polished

but treacherous, with deep dents hiding in the

dim light, longing to trip them.

The clicking of the creature’s nails echoing at his side.

He focused ahead to distract his nerves.

Ancient candelabras sat at the centre of four tables.

The furniture was sturdy but bland,

more suited to inns or cheap taverns.

They were arranged in a line, each able to sit six people,

but still Handsome could not see the hall’s end.

The candle guides ended at the tables,

leaving only unknown tales beyond them.

One lit surface held fresh fruits and vegetables,

another cooked meat, the third sweet desserts.

The final was equipped with two sets of cutlery

and chairs placed opposite each other.

He recognised one from the village inn,

a ram’s head carved on top.

The other was a throne, large and imposing,

its frame stone, a little worn from age,

but its carvings of kings and queens still distinguishable.

The padded red velvet coating the back and seat

looked new, restoring an ancient item to respect.

The creature glided towards the throne,

her posture regal and confident,

slipping into her long-forgotten skin.

She didn’t eat, just sat in silence,

studying his every move.

Invisible hands brought him a range

of the food. It was delicious,

but he barely tasted it, too aware of

the predator sitting opposite, waiting.

They didn’t speak, that first time,

too tense and unsure of the other’s motive.

She seemed intent on keeping him here,

while he longed to kill her, and take all

that was hers as his own.

~*~

On the fifth night of tense dinner dates

Handsome could bear it no longer.

‘What is this place? What are you?’

He clutched the sharp cutlery in his hand,

waiting for the creature’s reaction.

There was a moment of shocked silence

before a chuckle rumbled 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,

while the others were made invisible,

unable to communicate, unable to die.’

He wanted to ask, ‘Can you die?’

but bit his tongue.

Since the new meal arrangements had begun

Handsome’s unseeable shadows had relaxed their restrictions.

He ventured into forgotten rooms,

uncovering more dust than answers.

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.

For the next two weeks he stewed in indecision,

Longing to leave but knowing death would be waiting.

The obedient and silent servants pleased him,

so eager to satisfy his commands.

Would removing their mistress

make them loyal to him?

Every day a desire to take that risk grew.

That night while eating he insisted on

cutting the meat himself, snatching

the offered carving knife.

He kept it in his grip as he ate,

watching the creature as closely as

she watched him, calculating, searching.

‘Why do you never eat?’ he asked,

‘Isn’t the food to your liking?’

Her head dipped, staring down and he

sprang up, leaping on the table and

plunging the knife into her heart.

22:30

Handsome & the Hideous

VII

Handsome woke, confused and wary,

noting he was on a bed,

he glanced around and saw a table

which held on it soup and bread.

He devoured the offering,

hunger winning caution,

but then an unseen person entered

with another portion.

He remembered those in the forest

who’d forced him to come here,

he straightened up and stared ahead

refusing to show fear.

‘Thank you, kind ghost, for saving me.

I truly am grateful,

but I’d like to leave this room now

the surroundings aren’t fatal.’

As answer the door was closed and locked

but a tin bath was brought.

Handsome stripped and soaked off the forest

pleased with the cleanness it wrought.

They gave him garments a healthy green

soft, smart, a statement of hope.

It made him feel important,

not meant for the hangman’s rope.

Soon he was allowed to explore

but only the west wing.

This grew boring within a month

and he longed to see the spring.

His request was refused at first

too worried he would run,

so each day he feigned melancholy

and lamented for the sun.

Two escorted him outside

keeping him from the border.

He complied for now, but looked around

for signs of disorder.

He plucked flowers from their beds

then left them discarded,

an extra presence saved their corpses,

keeping the garden guarded.

Insistent tugs pulled at his clothes

to leave before sunset.

He resisted, and so it was

Handsome and Hideous met.

22:29

Handsome & the Hideous

VI

The hideous creature who’d once been queen

circled the castle grounds, her speed frantic,

her route wild. Invisible hands had

removed the human, his unconscious form

floating towards the west wing.

She did not follow.

She could sense her nightly shadow,

Jeremy, watching but she ignored him

as she switched between scared whimpers

and possessive, angry growls. ‘My land,’

she snarled and stopped to rub against a tree.

She wrapped one leg around the trunk,

releasing a trickle of urine down its bark.

A satisfied grunt left her as she pulled back

and sprinted to the next tree,

a clear goal driving back her panic.

Jeremy inched closer until she

spun and snapped her jaws in warning.

Distrust was her default.

She was surrounded by living ghosts,

who couldn’t experience or influence.

She was a creature-once-human

who no longer knew what normal interactions were.

How had she once sat in too large chairs

and talked about mundane topics,

while sipping tea and nibbling cake?

How did humans find the easy flow

of conversations and feel comfortable

in another’s presence?

Jeremy was only a half-presence,

a wisp of possibility she could acknowledge

or ignore when it suited.

This new visitor was different. He was hope,

despair. Immediate.

After hundreds of years of endless time,

waiting, the urgent pull to act

sent her spiralling into id behaviour.

Her scent-marking complete, she howled

at the moon, voice ululating and desperate.

At her feet Jeremy lay a red gladiolus.

Hope. Strength. Remembrance.

She stopped, gaze seeking his, meeting eyes

she could not see but felt and knew.

She reached out and locked him in a

desperate hug, a moment just their own

before everything changed forever.

The threatening presence of dawn

drove her inside, for the first time

she sensed Jeremy follow.

The west wing’s entrance was

barred with a locked door.

It opened a fraction, a neat pile of clothes

slipping through and waiting mid-air.

She did not move but felt Jeremy

drift from her side to accept it.

He unfolded the bundle before her,

revealing a deep purple dress,

silky, smooth and shimmering in the dim light.

It was long enough to hide her legs and feet,

but would cling to highlight her breasts.

A wide-brimmed hat the same regal shade

had a veil attached, ready to conceal her face.

Thick purple gloves with a blue vine patterning

were enforced with extra padding,

to hide and contain her claws.

She hesitated, forcing her growl into a more

human sigh, then reached out to take them. 

22:27

Handsome & the Hideous

IV

There was no path, all was overgrown,

wild, unforgiving. Bushes and branches

fought against him, ripping his clothes,

his skin, his hope. His blood

soaked into the ground, feeding the dark forest.

The atmosphere was heavy with eager panting,

haunting his steps and forcing him onwards.

He heard the snap of jaws, the whip

of air near his legs from a near-miss.

Panic pushed him on, fast but clumsy choices

leading to a gaping gash down his right arm as

he wrenched his trapped limb from the

entangled growth’s grasp.

A hungry snarl stalked his steps,

bolder with each stumble. What little light

the moon had cast was drowned

from view. All sense of direction was lost.

A distant, monstrous howl

tore into him as his legs buckled.

He dreaded ever meeting

whatever creature had produced it.

A swell in his chest made him gasp,

barely noticing the lack of teeth

on his body. Whimpering?

He smiled, laughed heartily,

before sucking in a huge breath and

howling for his life.

~ * ~

Two were close to the struggle,

monitoring the forest to keep the wolf

population in check. Many servants

had chosen this role, but its vast

expanse forced them into small groups.

Within the west wing were carefully kept

pages, detailing a basic sound-language.

The lucky ones had a whistle or small instrument

gained from looting villages.

The rest used sturdy sticks, doubling as weapons.

Four short thumps echoed against a tree,

then quick footsteps followed the human howl

and struck at the wolf pack surrounding him.

The first to land a kill was the man,

who’d long forgotten his name. Instead

he referred to himself as Protector, a clear purpose.

The woman remembered she was Mary, once timid,

shy, longing to be invisible…the irony.

Now she was bold, strong enough to crack

a wolf’s skull with a swinging branch.

Four wolves soon lay dead, and the rest fled.

The human sprang to his feet,

pushing forward through the compact

bushes and trees ahead, blind to direction.

Protector banged two quick thuds, Follow,

before shoving past the human to

begin clearing a path.

At first handsome panicked, feeling

a presence he couldn’t see and shrubbery

parting before him. He tried diving

in a different direction, but felt a hand

tugging at his clothes, steering

him back to their preferred route.

Exhaustion won and he fell compliant,

following his invisible saviours

deeper into the darkness. 

They stumbled on this way for a

day and night, able to view the passing

time by the small amount of sunlight

breaking through the trees.

When handsome stopped to rest

Mary dropped berries beside him,

knowing the edible ones from years

of observing the wildlife.

He was wary, but accepted the offerings,

having no other option for survival.

‘What are you? Where are you taking me?’

The closer they ventured to the castle

the more Mary’s hope began to grow.

Would the curse finally be broken? Long ago,

she had stabbed herself through the heart,

but time did not acknowledge the wound.

If she were freed, she’d welcome death,

for how would she remember what

being human meant?

The trees became more evenly spaced apart

a few miles from their destination.

Handsome could see the structure now

and ploughed ahead, overtaking Protector.

The two servants noted the waking moon

and grew uneasy as Handsome

broke through the forest’s cover. The teasing sound

of trickling water tempted his parched throat,

his legs leading him to its source,

a large fountain standing in the centre of the gardens.

She was there, waiting,

a fearful growl escaping her.

A new smell, an enemy?

They locked eyes, halting his progress,

and buried memories made her whimper.

She’d looked that beautiful once.

Handsome saw the monstrous shadow

skulking ahead, but couldn’t understand

how it was real. ‘Help me,’ he croaked,

too dizzy to be prideful, ‘I want to live.’

Then he dropped to the ground.

22:26

Handsome & the Hideous

III

Handsome was not a local man

he’d travelled far and wide,

he committed crimes in different lands

then left as a way to hide.

He was a beautiful man to view

but held a sinful soul,

with each new place he came upon

he’d complete an evil goal.

Theft was too easy for his skill,

he liked to set a fire,

he’d barricade people in their homes

and create a giant pyre.

During winters he’d settle down

and find a woman to bed,

but he’d also sample married ones

whose husband’s blood he’d shed.

Murder made him feel alive

and he loved the power of rape,

but soon his crime caught up with him

and he could no longer escape.

In a village on the forest’s border

he grew restless and wild,

he made a final, fatal mistake

by strangling a child.

They hunted him without mercy

fuelled by rage and grief,

and so he plunged into the trees

hoping to gain relief.

To his surprise they ceased their chase

but kept a watchful eye,

he had no choice but to keep moving

and prey he wouldn’t die.

22:25

Handsome & the Hideous

II

The curse hadn’t transformed the castle,

like its long-suffering occupants, but

through them it changed all the same.

Its walls had once absorbed laughter and light,

hummed with constant activity.

The busy, efficient steps of the servants,

the unhurried ambling of the gentry.

For all but the queen the curse was instant,

one moment there, the next invisible and mute to all,

even themselves.

But not the castle. It still saw their flesh, felt their

blows, heard their wails of misery and disjointed speech,

mouths would open, releasing slurred words or jumbled sentences

that they themselves could not hear.

Some tore off their unseen clothes,

throwing them on the floor and willing them to

become visible. They raided wardrobes and redressed

in eye-catching fabric, moving limbs and

watching the movement of the cloth in mirrors.

They could almost imagine their bodies again.

Many of the nobler class left the castle,

muttering hopes of outdistancing the curse.

Some returned, months or years later,

while some stayed away, living ghosts in the outside world.

The paper, books and surfaces were used up quickly, every

inch crammed with pleas of communication, verification

that others existed. Wallpaper was stripped

off for the blank layer beneath. The writing tools didn’t last long.

Words were recorded using sharpened twigs,

with substitute ink ranging from

rotten food to their mistress’ blood-drool.

Hairpins and cutlery, no longer needed,

were used to scrape and scar the castle walls

with their names and those of loved ones,

details they were desperate to hold onto.

Conversations passed between different authors,

with theories of freedom, or plans to prepare,

assigning roles and tasks that would one day help end their hell.

Those consumed with rage and hurt dominated

space with harsh words, accusations and imaginative

death fantasies towards the cursed queen,

who read every single one.

The queen’s transformation had been slow,

an extra punishment as she felt her body

twist into a grotesque form.

Dark, wiry hair spread over her,

coarse, thick and rough to touch,

its foreign presence irritating her skin,

causing endless itching, scratching and sores.

Her nails were an ugly yellow, cracked, sharp;

unwanted weapons towards others, and herself.

 Her limbs were long. Stretched like straining leather

at breaking point, arms dangling to her ankles.

Her legs were thick, sturdy, containing primal

power and speed. Her feet were too large to

hide in shoes, the curved talons echoing her presence.

Her ribcage and spine were visible

against her skin, straining with each movement.

Her breasts stood out amongst the fur,

the areolae large and dark, the nipples always erect.

Her scalp was covered with long black hair,

once luscious, soft and envied,

now scraggly and grim.

Her face had stretched beyond

human capacity, an unfamiliar snout

a heavy weight as her mouth filled with blood,

sharper and larger teeth piercing through her gums.

Her eyes and ears had remained human,

but years of darkness heightened her senses.

Her monstrous shape caused her pain

with wounds time would not touch.

But new injuries were not felt, acknowledged,

for her or the voiceless wisps.

Years of murder attempts had taught them that.

Time did not touch the cursed, but it did affect the castle.

Tortured and mutilated with desperate messages,

even on its floors, ceilings and outer walls.

Its stone began to corrode from the elements.

Scratchings of hate and hope faded, crumbled to the ground

and were forgotten under dirt.

Surviving windows were opaque with filth, those

broken filled naturally with vines, twisting

and sealing any light away.

Dust danced a constant mist

disturbed by aimless wandering.

Wooden doors, bannisters and chests were

eaten away inside, ready to collapse

under any pressure. Once beautiful

furniture, curtains, bedsheets and figurines

lay in ruin, either from hopeless rage or nature’s corruption.

No warmth could be sustained, even in summer,

a chill of defeat permanent and unrelenting.

Only two areas of the once glorious structure

were preserved and maintained by dedicated individuals.

The west wing was scrubbed clean,

linen and cloth stored safely, doors and tiles

replaced and windows boarded up.

Any salvageable items were locked away and

guarded, even from the queen.

At times some would leave the castle for weeks,

 raiding towns and villages for supplies,

any means necessary to maintain what they could.

The second area was the courtyard and garden,

kept flourishing under the care of Jeremy, the groundskeeper.

He grew fruit and vegetables none of them needed to eat,

he trimmed plants and grass so it didn’t become

wild like the forest beyond.

He built an underground shelter

to protect his own private stash of memories.

And he loved his mistress, with all his heart,

strong enough, surely, to break any curse.

Inside, the queen permitted

no lights, no lamps, no mirrors.

She never left its soothing shadows during daylight.

She’d wait, growling at the unseen,

for the moon to rise before stepping out.

It called to her…

Here’s the polished version of Handsome & the Hideous, the one I submitted as my masters dissertation and got a distinction grade for. Feedback for improvement is still welcome 🙂 There’s a total of twelve parts.

22:24

Handsome & the Hideous

I

In the land of dead whispers, she lived,

forgotten through magic and fear

was a creature ugly and tragic,

ruling a household no one could hear.

A Germanic castle was their home,

once a grand and envied sight,

built from pure white brick and grey-blue tiles,

with spires that conveyed its might.

For generations one royal line

had occupied the throne,

with sixty thousand acres of land

many people called it home.

A single queen had ruled alone,

loved and respected by all,

but loneliness had haunted her

and she accepted suitors’ calls.

One by one, she rejected them,

longing to find true love.

A sorcerer decided to try his luck,

thinking charm would be enough.

For him a crown was a worthy prize,

gaining a title his dream,

but the queen was quick to reject him

and it hurt his self-esteem.

He cast a spell upon the land,

a wild forest springing up.

It ruined crops and crushed homes

that people couldn’t reconstruct.

The queen’s castle was isolated,

most of her subjects had fled,

only servants and some noble guests

remained, still willing to be led.

Still the queen refused to bend,

the sorcerer’s anger grew.

His new goal became revenge

and a spell he began to brew.

‘I curse the household loyal to you!

This castle will crumble with age,

but you, my dear, time will not touch,

eternity will be your cage.

‘The people present will vanish from sight

but linger on, unheard.

Thy cannot die, but will not help,

unable to mutter a word.

‘You will be visible and heard,

but long to be deceased.

Your beautiful form will melt away,

becoming a hideous beast.

‘Ages will pass, your kingdom will perish,

but wounds will not be felt.

Only by one who truly loves you

can a fatal wound be dealt.

‘To end this curse there is one way,

to escape your disgrace,

you must find one willing to say

I love you to your face.’