Scribbled Thoughts

Handsome & the Hideous

XIII

Jeremy never went to the dining hall to witness

the interactions between the mistress and the human.

Instead, now her courtyard visits had lessened,

he sought ways to escape his seclusion.

Other servants were more active in the garden now,

showing an interest in growing more food.

The arrival of the human had restored their hope

and a flourish of activity had ensued.

Some were focused on restoring the castle,

trying to revive it, just like the west wing.

But many materials would be needed

and there was only one way to get everything.

Jeremy followed a group into the forest,

tracking their progress from discreet, small sounds.

They walked a full day before emerging

into a large area of green, open grounds.

The wide unknown startled him, at first,

a sensation so unfamiliar it made him nervous.

But he moved forward, determined to succeed

in this new exploration, to find a new purpose.

In the distance was the village, a sight strange to see,

so many small settlements crammed together.

There was noise, so much noise!

It brought a surprising wave of pleasure.

He walked through the muddy streets,

listening to the people talk and talk.

He could feel himself grinning, face hurting

from unused muscles, as he continued to walk and stalk.

As night fell and the village grew quiet

the other invisible invaders began to spirit items away.

Cloth, wood and other useful items

that the village wouldn’t miss until the break of day.

Jeremy felt bad for these poor, simple people

but didn’t protest or try to stop the theft.

Instead, he also entered the sleeping houses,

rummaging through belongings and sifting through chests.

As light began to threaten their task,

Jeremy briefly considered staying, living amongst life.

But the thought of his mistress bid he returned,

taking the item he’d come to find, a knife.

Handsome & the Hideous

XII

He hadn’t realised his memory of her was real,

assuming it had been a nightmare delusion

while on death’s door.

Now she was dressed like a noble lady,

her monstrous face hidden while her clothes

highlighted what feminine figure she had left.

She was stood stiffly, at attention,

enormous hands clasped together in front.

Her nervous energy contradicted her presence

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

‘H-hello,’ he rough, husky voice boomed

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, raising her head.

He spied an apple lift towards her, insistent.

He caught the answering gleam in her eyes

beyond the cloth barrier,

separating them from the outside world.

‘Would you care to join me for dinner?’

The dining hall looked different from the

rest of the castle, its furniture not quite

matching the castle’s original décor.

The tables were sturdy but bland,

the expected occupants of inns or cheap taverns.

There was four lined up together, each able to sit

six people, but not filling even half of the hall’s capacity.

Candles were the only light source,

placed to form a path leading to the dinner.

Already wax leaked from some, a pool forming

at their base and creeping across the floor.

They walked over cracked marble, perfectly polished

but containing deep dents hiding in the dim light,

almost tripping him over.

Ancient candelabras illuminated a buffet of food,

a mixture of fresh fruits, vegetables and cooked wolf meat

invaded his senses, distracting him from the

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

There was only two chairs, placed opposite each other

at the centre of the feast.

He recognised the design of one from the village’s inn,

a ram’s head carved on top.

The other chair was a throne, large and imposing.

Its frame was made of stone, a little worn from age,

but its carvings of kings and queens still distinguishable.

The padded red velvet material supporting 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 a long-forgotten skin

he couldn’t help admire.

She didn’t eat, just sat in silence,

eyes penetrating through her veil

to study his every move.

The food 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.

Handsome & the Hideous

XI

Handsome woke in the carefully preserved room

to a bowl of soup floating beside the bed.

Too glad to be alive, he overlooked the strangeness,

accepting the food and requesting some bread.

The food kept appearing through a nearby door,

floating, but steady, as his requests were brought.

He asked where he was, but received no reply

so he decided to wait patiently for the answers he sought.

A tin bath was filled and he soaked in it for hours,

washing away the forest’s stain from his skin.

New clothes were presented, and he allowed

invisible hands to dress him, wearing a grin.

The clothes were a healthy green,

comfortable but stylish, a statement of hope.

He felt like someone important, needed,

instead of one suited for the hangman’s rope.

The invisible servants followed as he left the room

into a corridor, old and worn, but clean.

He felt whispers of movement as he explored,

sensing more life nearby that remained unseen.

He explored the castle wing for the next few days,

content in the luxury of his new home,

but soon he longed to see the outside again,

in the gardens and courtyard he longed to roam.

The door leading from the west wing was locked

and at first the servants refused to let him leave,

but with gentle coaxing and promises of staying

they handed over the key, anxiety relieved.

He was led, very strictly, to the gardens and back,

never allowed to see the rest of the castle.

For now, he let them have their way,

enjoying the outside, and not wanting any hassle.

He sensed another presence outside, following,

picking up the flowers Handsome plucked and discarded.

It never approached him or caused any harm

but neither would it leave the garden unguarded.

One day, he ignored insistent tugs at his clothes

to leave the garden before the sun set.

He was growing bored of the restrictions…

and in this way, Handsome and the hideous officially met. 

Handsome & the Hideous

X

Jeremy watched, silent as always, while

his mistress circled the castle grounds with

increased frantic speed. The human man

had been taken to the west wing, but neither

had followed. She was switching between

hopeful, scared whimpers and possessive,

angry growls.

‘My land.’ She snarled, stopping and positioning

herself against a tree. He moved closer,

stopping as she wrapped one leg around its middle.

The soft trickle of urine ran down its bark.

A satisfied grunt left her as she untangled her limbs

and sprinted to the next tree,

a clear goal driving back her panic.

He followed her, slow and cautious, knowing

any attempts at comforting touches would backfire.

Distrust was default to them all,

living ghosts who couldn’t experience or influence

and a creature-once-human who no longer

knew what normal interactions felt like.

How did she once sit down and talk about

mundane topics, while sipping teas and nibbling

at cake? How did human’s find the natural,

easy flow of conversations and feel

comfortable in another’s presence?

Jeremy was a half-presence, a wisp of

possibility that she could acknowledge or

ignore when it suited.

This man was different.

He was hope and despair. Immediate.

After hundreds of years of endless time,

waiting, the sudden need for action and change

was crushing the fragile thread to her humanity.

Her scent-marking complete, she began

howling at the moon, voice quivering and desperate.

At her feet he lay a red gladiolus.

Hope. Strength. Remembrance.

She stopped, gaze meeting his, locking with eyes

she could not see but felt and knew.

She reached out and locked him in a

possessive hug, a moment just their own

before everything changed forever.

The threatening presence of dawn drove

the mistress inside. Jeremy abandoned his garden to follow.

She paced the corridor leading to the west wing,

its entrance barred with a locked door

she hadn’t realised still existed.

It opened briefly, and invisible hands

presented a wrapped bundle.

The mistress stared, not moving, so

Jeremy gently took it, undoing the ribbon

to reveal the altered clothes within.

The dress was a deep purple, silk that

caught the light and teased its smooth touch.

It was big enough to cover her figure and

long enough to hide her legs and feet.

A burka in the same shade had a thin

tulle layer over the eye opening.

Thick purple gloves with blue vine patterning

had been enforced with extra padding, to hide

and contain her claws.

Jeremy held the bundle out to her,

and held his breath, until she took it.

Handsome & the Hideous

IX

He’d stayed out of the queen’s way, at first,

focusing all his mixed emotions on his work.

But her nightly gazes towards the moon

drew his attention and caused him to lurk.

She was ugly, there was no denying it,

and he’d already forgotten what her looks used to be.

But out of them all, she was still the most human,

her pain and suffering visible for them all to see.

He’d followed her around, at first unannounced,

a night-time shadow echoing her steps,

listening to her sorrow-filled howls,

and experiencing emotions he had started to forget.

As her natural instincts sharpened, she noticed,

sensed his presence and tensed up in fear.

He’d witnessed other servants attacking her before

making her weary if any coming near.

Slowly, slowly she began to trust, recognise,

and expect him, her guardian phantom.

He communicated through flowers, carved in

vegetables, wrote in soil, promised that he’d never abandon.

At times he grew too bold, touched her,

tried to kiss her, suggested other acts of love.

She grew enraged, feeling betrayed, used,

and forced him away with a mighty shove.

He was desperate, nerves and body tingling

as he screamed out: ‘I love you! I love you!

Let me set you free!’ In the soil he drew the words,

making it impossible for her not to view.

But his voice was soundless and could not be heard;

written words alone would not break the curse.

He could not save her, or himself,

and his insistent proclamations were only making things worse.

He never stopped loving her, never stopped following,

but resigned himself to never being her saviour.

Instead he waited, a silent support

and worried about her increased animal behaviour.

Handsome & the Hideous

VIII

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, whether

the busy, efficient steps of the servants or

the unhurried movements of the gentry.

For all except 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, heard their

wails of misery and disjointed speech, words

slurred or missing as the speaker heard nothing.

Some guests 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 -mostly the guests- 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 ink were used up quickly, every

inch crammed with pleas of communication, verification

that others existed. Wallpaper was stripped

off for portable messages. Written using small

sharpened twigs, with substitute ink ranging from

rotten food to their mistress’ blood-drool.

Objects like hairpins and cutlery, no longer needed,

were used to scrape and scar the castle walls,

Writing their name, family members, interests,

anything they could hold onto.

Others wrote theories and plans, elaborate creations

that would free them from this 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.

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 and tiles 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 created a constant mist when

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 cutlery

lay in ruin, either from violence or nature’s influence.

No warmth could be sustained, even in summer.

A chill of defeat permanent and unrelenting.

Only two areas of the once glorious structure

were maintained and preserved by dedicated individuals.

The west wing was scrubbed clean,

linen and cloth stored safely away, 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

and return with supplies, new equipment.

Any means necessary to maintain what they could.

The second area was the courtyard and garden,

kept flourishing due to the groundskeeper, Jeremy.

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.

And he loved his mistress, with all his heart,

strong enough, surely, to break any curse.

Handsome & the Hideous

VII

The castle, before the curse was a sight to behold,

a place of envy and wonder, gentry and dreams

always grand and gleaming, spotless and clean

with the finest bedding and cover, down to every last seam.

It started life as a present for a beloved daughter

to secure her happiness and future,

sixty thousand acres of land her father secured,

an attractive prospect for any suitor.

Work began the day she was born

and finished in her twentieth year,

she arrived, newly married to her beautiful home

where her children were born, their place in life clear.

A Germanic castle was its design

tall, beautiful with spires and wings,

a pure white brick and blue-grey tiles,

the perfect place to raise future kings.

Tragedy found their royal line

two generations later, an illness struck

killing the royal couple and his children,

so a distant cousin was found, who couldn’t believe his luck.

This widowed father planted trees on the ground

and opened the castle to guests

they offered entertainment, dancing and food,

and once it was over, a place to rest.

Many servants found work, praising their masters

taking pride in their task to serve,

by the time six generations has passed

the castle had respect, and a reputation that was well deserved.

Its success and loyalty attracted attention

of those who pursued the current single queen,

among those had been a sorcerer

whose lust for power and position was overly keen…

Handsome & the Hideous

IV

There was no path, all was overgrown,

wild, unforgiving. Bushes and branches

fought against him, ripping his clothes,

skin, hope. His blood soaked into the

ground. He could sense creatures watching,

sniffing at the tempting liquid and

feeding their appetite.

He heard the snap of jaws, the wisp

of air near his legs from a near-miss.

Panic fuelled his progress, barely feeling

the large gash down his right arm as

he wrenched his chained limbs from the

entangled growth’s grasp.

A hungry snarl haunted his steps, growing

bolder with each stumble. What little

light the moon had given was drowned

from view. All sense of direction was lost.

Was this the end?

He’d seen death and pain often,

inflicted it on others, fascinated

by its mystery and the power he

had over others. He ended things forever.

A howl, closer now but still distant

tore into him as his legs buckled.

A swell in his chest made him gasp,

barely noticing the lack of teeth

on his body. Whimpering?

He smiled, laughed heartily and with glee,

before sucking in a huge breath and

howling for his life.

V

Many of the castle’s occupants,

in the early days of the curse,

despaired, faded, invisible to all

even each other which was much, much worse.

The unfortunate guests staying in the castle

suffered the most. No escape, no motivation,

while the servants tried to stay positive,

they adjusted and planned for salvation.

They developed a new language using objects and sound,

forming a strategy to take control.

They left their mistress to her own devices

and set a schedule for patrols.

Some were in charge of the gardens,

growing fruit and vegetables in case a guest should appear,

they kept one wing of the castle liveable

fighting the effects of time, year after year.

The rest monitored the forest, keeping the

wolf population at bay.

They waited and searched for a human,

someone who would save them all, one day.

VI

Two were nearby to the human howl

and used sticks to communicate a plan.

Now like second nature they moved through the forest

and struck at the wolf pack surrounding him.

The first to land a kill was the male servant,

who’d long forgotten his name. Instead he

referred to himself as Protector, a clear

goal, a purpose, a reminder of what must be done.

The female 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, dashing

forward. Mary followed while Protector circled

in front, clearing a path towards one of their own

routes through the forest. The closer he got

to the castle the more 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?

They travelled all night and all day,

stopping when the male did. They dropped what berries

they could find near him, knowing which weren’t

poisonous from years of observing wildlife.

He was startled and wary at first, but

grew used to his invisible saviours and

accepted what they brought with a curious:

‘What are you?’

He broke through the tangled trees into the

courtyard as the moon was waking.

The trickling sound of water led him to the

centre, Mary and Protector following, suddenly unsure.

She was waiting, growling in fear and excitement.

A new smell, an enemy?

They locked eyes, and buried memories made her whimper.

She’d looked that beautiful once.

‘Help me,’ he croaked, terrified. ‘I want to live.’

Then dropped to the ground.

These posts are the first draft of my dissertation piece. I have a more polished and shortened version, which I’ll probably post in the future.

Handsome & the Hideous

I

In the land of dead whispers she lived

forgotten through magic and fear,

a horrendous creature too sad to gaze on

with an invisible household no one could hear.

Many years ago she was an independent queen

ruling her castle and subjects with pride,

but when a sorcerer fancied her crown

her rejection stung so much he cried:

‘I curse you and your household!

This castle will crumble with age,

but you, time will not touch

eternity will be your cage.

‘Those loyal to you will suffer,

unseen and unheard, stuck in-between

while you, my dear, will be transformed,

an ugly terrible body, not fit for a queen.

‘This way you’ll remain,

the outside world forgetting this place,

and the curse can only be broken

if someone says “I love you” to that face.’

II

Pain had kept her company

time did not touch it, so her

twisted and mutated body remained

constant agony. With cut and swollen

gums, and an unfamiliar snout,

a trail of bloody saliva dripped

on the floor wherever she went,

an invisible body following with a mop.

Dark, wiry hair covered her whole body,

coarse, thick and rough to touch.

Its foreign presence irritating her skin

causing endless itching, scratching, sores and scabs.

Her nails were an ugly yellow, cracked, sharp;

an unwanted weapon towards others, and herself.

Her limbs were long. Stretched like straining plastic

at breaking point, arms dangling near her ankles.

Legs were thick, sturdy, providing a

predator speed and strength. Her feet were

too large to hide in shoes, the toes as long as

fingers, making grabbing and climbing second nature.

Her ribcage and spine were moulded

against her skin, each movement straining them.

Her breasts were still noticeable amongst the hair,

the areola 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 eyes and ears had remained human,

but years of darkness heightened her senses.

She permitted no lights, no candles, no mirrors.

She never wandered the grounds in daylight.

Instead, haunting the inside, and growling

at the unseen, she waited for the moon to rise.

It called to her…

III

His life had been mischievous

full of questionable morals and actions,

stealing, pursuing married women, even murder,

anything to gain some satisfaction.

He’d eventually grown over-confident, careless, misjudged

and was caught while sleeping in another’s bed.

Men bound his hands with biting iron, leading him to

the forest’s edge, where his sentence was read,

‘For your numerous crimes against our village:

Murder, theft, arson and rape

you are banished in the forest to die,

a place no one has ever been able to escape.’

As they shoved him forward he stumbled,

legs weak as a howl pierced the night,

yet he forced himself to calm his mind

seeing a possible solution to his plight.

There’d been a long-time rumour

of castle ruins forgotten in its region,

if he could survive and reach them he might gain life, and freedom.