The First Tale

I'm currently expanding Eternity's Spring (a short story I have on here) into a novella. This fairy tale will fit into it at one point. It's dark and vaguely familiar. I'm posting it to get feedback.

The First Tale

         There was once a maiden who was very beautiful, yet very vain. She had a great mirror on her wall, which she looked upon everyday and admired her reflection.

         It happened one day that she was walking through the woods, and she saw a tall, steep rock, nearly mountainous in scope. It was covered with thick thorns filled with the vilest of poisons, yet at the very peak there grew a rose.

         It was a beautiful rose, and the maiden looked upon it and said, “I should wish to take that rose and wear it, for it is as beautiful as me!” And as she approached the tall rock, the thorns made a path for her, so powerful was her beauty.

         This all added to her vanity.

         At last she reached the tip of the great rock, and her delicate fingers plucked the rose. In moments, though, she felt herself getting very drowsy, and she fell into a deep sleep.

         When she woke up, she was in a great dining hall. It was furnished with great paintings, but they were covered with cobwebs. There were silver chairs seated with velvet, but the velvet was decayed and covered in holes, and the silver had long tarnished. There were statues along the walls, carved with great care, yet their beauty was lost to her, as their eyes followed her and unsettled her. At the end of the table there was a great mirror, and it faced her.

         Before her was a golden plate, a fork and a knife by its side. Heaped on the plate were helpings of lamb, of potatoes, of beans, and all the other embellishments she loved. Sitting by the side of the plate was a goblet filled with wine, which looked to her strangely thicker than usual.

         When she tried to rise from her seat, she found herself bound by some kind of strange ailment that forbid her from leaving her chair.

         She called out, but no answer was given. Her first thought was to deny the meal set out before her, but her stomach did not agree, for she had not eaten since morning.

         When she had finished the meal, she waited for something to occur, and at last something did. A voice echoed through the dining hall, and the mirror’s surface seemed to ripple.

         “You may choose the room you want to stay in; they are all vacant,” it said.

         The maiden realized she was able to stand up, and rejoiced in this fact silently. She ran through corridor after corridor when at last she reached the entrance hall. The eminent doors opening to the outside world beckoned her. She ran to them and gripped the handle tightly. Then she pulled, and nothing happened. The door would not open. She sunk down in frustration, when she heard the mysterious voice speak again.

         “Do not try to escape, my prisoner. You have stolen my rose, and you are mine for eternity. Find a room.”

         The maiden, helpless, humored the voice and climbed an enormous stairway up to the second level. There were many rooms in this castle, and at last she chose one with an enormous bed, a dresser, which hosted a comb, and a mirror covering nearly an entire wall.

         She lay down upon the bed and pondered the strange events that had occurred on this day. However, she did not do this for very long, as she was very tired, and she quietly slipped into sleep.

         Days passed, and every morning she would be awoken by the voice and would descend to the dining hall to have breakfast. She was allowed to explore the castle at her own desire, and she took delight in this privilege, for she was able to gaze upon many beautiful sculptures and artwork. In the library, she read great philosophical essays and epic poems, which she discussed with the voice at the end of the day. Once she asked it for a lyre, so that she could play music. The next morning, she awoke to find the instrument leaning against her bed.

         Even when the voice was not speaking, she could feel its presence. She suspected it came from the mirror, and that something was behind it. As time went on, she grew fonder and fonder of the mysterious voice she conversed with. Yet with her fondness, her curiosity grew as well. She at last desired to gaze upon her host. One day, she mustered up the courage necessary and asked this of the voice. After this, it disappeared, and she felt its presence leave as well. For nine days, she heard no sound from the voice. Her meals appeared as always in the dining hall, but she had no one to converse with. At last, on the ninth day, she heard the voice speak.

         “I am hideous, and no human has looked upon me without horror,” it said to her. “Long ago, I was a prince, yet so overcome with vanity was I that I turned an ugly hag away from my home. She was in fact a witch, and she implanted a rose in the forest and told me she had cursed me. She told me I would be a beast forever, unless one event occurred.” The voice paused, and the maiden didn’t reply. It went on.

         “She told me that if someone could fall in love with me despite my ugliness, and could overcome the rose’s beauty as to destroy it, I would turn back into a human being.”

         The maiden looked upon the rose, which she had kept since she plucked it. It had not withered a day, even without water. At last she realized she had fallen in love with her mysterious host.

         The next day, when it appeared, she said, “I will destroy the rose for you. I love you.” And so, as the source of the voice watched from behind the mirror, she threw the rose into the fireplace. She watched it burn, and felt a small prickling inside her head. All of a sudden, it grew to a furious pain that stretched over her entire body. She screamed as she fell to the ground.

         Again, she woke up in the beast’s castle. Standing above her was a handsome man wearing the clothes of a noble. He was a prince, she realized, and the ruler of this castle.

         Seeing her awaken, he advanced towards her. “It worked,” he said. “I am now human. Thank you.” Yet there was something in his look that betrayed some kind of hidden emotion �" disgust, perhaps?

         The maiden sat up in her bed. Her vision was tinted yellow, and she could hear mice creeping in the downstairs corridor. With horror, she looked in the mirror, and she saw that her beautiful body had been replaced with that of a horrible beast. She shrieked.

         The prince, having overcome vanity by means of the curse, tried to comfort her. Yet she was in so much rage that she pounced upon him and ripped him to shreds with her razor-sharp claws.

         It is said that she still inhabits the castle, weeping with sorrow and rage.

         

Author's Note

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