The Enchantress

Winter sliced through the darkness like freezing blades. The beggar, fuelled by purpose, pulled the black cloak around her shivering body as she soldiered on through the woods. All around her, leaves and crimson petals swarmed in a wind that rattled the bare trees and ached her bones. The skin cracked around her knuckles as she felt her way through the dense night, walking slowly on stinging, bloody feet, her arm outstretched before her. Her frost-beaten hand met with a spiked bush that pricked and tore her fingers like vicious teeth. She retracted her bleeding arm and squinted into the blackness. Silver moonlight burst from behind heavy clouds illuminating a tree of blood-red roses. Captivated by the beautiful flowers, the beggar reached up and plucked the brightest, most voluptuous rose on the tree. She tucked it safely into her cloak for it would be of great use should her task fail.

The cold, it seemed, was determined to stop the beggar making her journey, but she marched on, shivering and sore. The promise she had made to the three servants was unbreakable by every enchanted law. Two nights earlier, they had come to her, desperately seeking her wisdom to aid their troubled master.

With only one hour until midnight, the old beggar woman hurried across the damp, gelid ground until the castle’s shimmering turrets came into view above the trees. She pushed through the tall iron gates and approached the grand entrance. As planned, one of the three servants, a rotund Englishman holding a large pocket watch opened the heavy door with a creak. He nodded at the hooded woman and disappeared back into the opulent warmth of the castle.

Then, the master appeared in the doorway. A young, orphaned prince no older than nineteen, resplendent in the most sumptuous finery.

“P-Please, kind sir,” stuttered the beggar pitifully, “I’m so cold and have walked so far. Please could I come in for just a moment to sit by your fire?” She pulled back her hood and looked upon the prince’s face; handsome and youthful, but also hard with eyes full of loss. The beggar’s heart fluttered as memories of tragedy tore through her mind. The prince knew not who the beggar was, but she knew him. For it was this orphaned prince who broke her daughter’s heart one year ago. Unable to withstand the pain of heartbreak, the girl ran away and was never seen again. And since his parents’ death following soon after, the prince’s heart was hard and empty. He’d become spoilt, selfish and unkind. Still, the beggar woman cared about the prince as did his servants. The cruelty of loss was damaging him and hurting those around him. His future was doomed to be lonely lest he learnt to feel, to share and to love again. All he needed was the chance.

The prince looked at the beggar’s haggard face and was repulsed. “Get away, you hideous old pauper!”

The beggar’s predictions had been right. His heart was cold. She reached into her cloak and produced the rose she had found along the way. “I can give you this rose in return for shelter.” For just a moment, the prince was bewitched by the beautiful rose. “Beauty, young man, is found within.” the beggar spoke softly despite the howling winds, “look inside yourself, and you’ll find it.”

The prince snapped from his trance and sneered at the gift. “Go away at once, I said!”

“Just as I expected,” the beggar said sadly. The servants, listening inside the castle, felt their hearts sink as their master failed once again to show kindness.

The servant’s pocket watch chimed midnight. The beggar’s black cloak dissolved, wisps of grey hair turned to blonde flowing locks, her ugliness melted away into the night and the old beggar woman returned to her true form. A tall, beautiful enchantress now towered over the prince in a gown of green silk.

The prince dropped to his knees. “Please, forgive me!” he cried, “I didn’t recognise you!” The young prince pleaded; tears ran down his cheeks.

“I must do what must be done,” the enchantress spoke with a voice of gold, “or you will never change.”

With a wave of her magic wand, the prince began to change. Thick brown fur grew from his body, tearing through his refined clothes. His hands and feet curled into claws, his teeth to fangs. Two horns pushed their way through his scalp. A shower of glittering snowflakes swarmed through the castle transforming it into a place of darkness and menace. As forewarned, the servants bade farewell to their human selves and morphed into living household items.

An enchantment too was placed upon the rose she had offered. “You have 24 months,” the enchantress said as she presented the rose to the cowering beast before her. “You must find love and earn their love in return. After this time, the last petal will fall. If you fail, you shall remain a beast for all time. But, if you can learn to love another and earn their love in return, like you loved my daughter before, then the spell will be broken.”

The unsightly prince retreated, rose in paw, into his castle where he remained in the west wing, secluded among memories of his parents and his vanished love. Time passed and the enchanted rose, like a ticking clock, cast off one hopeless petal after another and the monstrous prince fell into despair. For who could ever learn to love a beast?