Scribbled Thoughts

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.