Young Writers Society

Anton Prideaux leaned upon the edge of the balcony, peering over the black woods into the distance. He could see the ruby red horizon begin to gleam with fire. The sun would rise soon. It would cast the night away to the west and he would be forced to take shelter within the castle. Sunlight scorched his skin. It was a part of the witch’s curse.

He stood naked, bracing himself against the stone railing. The frigidness of the autumn morning clung to his bare shoulders and back like a ghostly frost. It sunk into his flesh and wretched bones. It numbed him, and for a moment, he didn't feel so desolate.

The day of the witch’s victory was approaching quickly and would be upon him in a matter of moments, it seemed. This would be the day of his judgment and death, as she had prophesized. Its only escape was to find a beloved bride, but he had found no such love. Not yet. How could he have found a maiden when he was forbidden to leave the castle by the witch’s curse? How was he able to find true love when every pair of eyes that turned his way could not bear to make a second glance?

Who in their right mind could love a monster as dreadful as he?

The sun broke over the horizon, spilling out across the country side and cutting through the fog. Anton slowly crept back into the shadows and crouched down, where he could catch glimpses of the sunrise in safety. The shadows hid his nakedness. It concealed his black eyes and bare head. It masked his vicious teeth, crooked mouth, and gray flesh. In the darkness, where all of his imperfections were hidden, he could be beautiful.

As the sun slowly climbed upon the blazing horizon, another day began. Anton wept and his tears burned his eyes. Time was his mortal enemy. The burning sky turned blue under light of dawn and Anton could not help but be reminded of Lottie’s eyes. It was the color of a sunlit sea, in all of its glory.

Charlotte Leroux--Lottie--was the one girl to whom he had exposed the entirety of his heart. She was glorious in appearance, and as he thought of her now, he longed to see her face again. But the brilliance of her soul nearly outmatched her beauty. Lottie was enchanting, gracious, unfailingly kind, and very brave. Yet, her courage was seemingly fleeting, for she had fled from him and did not return.

For the first time in years, Anton called upon God, someone who he fully believed had forsaken him. “Bring Lottie back to me.” He wept and could not restrain himself. To the east, a frightful storm was sweeping in to kill the blazing dawn. With the storm, death would come.

* * *

Lottie beheld castle with wonderment.

It was an enchanting, mysterious structure, nestled within the hills and woods of the French countryside. Not a single tear of light could be seen within the dark windows that watched her. It was seemingly deserted. The castle was built with a mixture of bricks and stones, all cracked or crooked. The construction had several balconies, three towers, and a courtyard. A black iron gate engulfed in vines of withered lilies and roses kept the woods at bay. Lottie paused in the road for only a moment to take in the haunting sight. It was just as she remembered.

She was already uneasy from her journey through the woods. Thankfully, an oil lantern kept away the worst of the shadows. To the east, she could see the dawn break upon the horizon, but the sun would soon be stifled by darkness. Around her, colossal trees of the forest swayed in the vicious winds of the coming autumn storm. The gusts roared through the branches, shaving them of any remaining leaves and tossing them into the bruised, angry skies. The rain was approaching quickly.

Lore and legend shrouded the Prideaux estate in shadow. Dark tales had managed to make the castle infamous. Because of the stories, all people were forbidden to enter. Lottie vividly remembered the fables.

It was common belief among the French villages that Prince Anton Prideaux still resided within the castle. Legend said the prince was no longer a man, but had been transformed by a witch into a creature of such dreadfulness, it was beyond fathom. The myths even claimed that when the prince was changed into a beast, he was so abominable that even the devil was wept in revulsion. How vile could a creature be that Lucifer cried at the sight of him?

Lottie had believed such romance as a child, but was skeptical when she became a woman. She believed all of it was mere myth until she came face to face with the terrible prince. And, standing amongst the chattering darkness, she could not help but feel apprehensive as she neared the gates of the castle. She feared his horrible face would approach her from the shadows.

Yet, she dreaded losing Anton more than she feared looking upon his face again. She was desperate to find him and knew she had little time. Anton was somewhere within the forsaken castle and she would tear it apart, brick by brick, to find him. Being away from him had made her realize how much of an impact he had had on her. She needed him and her heart fluttered at the thought of being with him.

The wind had managed to make a hazard out of her dress, blowing her skirts through the bars and spikes of the iron gates. Quickly untangling herself from the fence, she hurried through the unlocked entryway. The iron hinges of the gates shrieked to life as she pushed upon it to close. The sound made chills slither down her spine. The forest was unspeakably haunting, which made her restless.

Imagining the black eyes of the beast peering out through one of the many shaded windows, Lottie kept the shadows of the courtyard, slipping through patches of darkness. She held onto her skirts as she moved and she pulled down the hood of her cape to free her face.

The front entry of the castle was a set of massive double doors carved from heavy oak. The wood felt greasy under Lottie’s fingers and she cringed. She caught her breath and tested the door to see if it was locked. The deadbolt shuddered open and the heavy doors swung slowly inward. They moaned as they gave way to darkness. She could hear thunder crumble the skies as lightning forked through the clouds. The storm was upon her, which made her even more anxious.

Lottie turned from the demented woods and her eyes fell upon the slithering darkness from within the castle. She took a breath and passed through the threshold. After she closed the door of the castle, she was stunned by the silence that engulfed her. All she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears and her shuddering breath.

Beyond the weak light of her lantern, Lottie found herself in a hall of endless shade. The hall of the castle was covered in a film of gray dust. The plaster walls were toppling in on themselves and the marble floors were cracked beyond repair. The heavy air in the castle was musty and sour in her nostrils.

“Anton!” She called. Her voice did not carry well within the confined, dark spaces of the castle. Not even the slightest bit of noise answered her. The silence frightened her. Was she too late?

Lottie fled down the hall.

* * *

When the dawn was consumed by swirling thunderclouds, Anton crawled from his balcony into his chamber where he fetched a robe. He pulled it over his shoulders and it swept across the marble floor as he walked to the chamber door. Upon the minute he died, he wished it to be outside of the castle. He felt, somehow, it would be more dignifying to die out in the open than while hiding within his castle.

Anton slowly descended the grand staircase. He paid no mind to the crumbling castle around him. He was prepared to leave it behind, for this house was no longer a home to him, but a corpse. Above him, he could hear the rain hammering the roof and spilling into the upper rooms. As his castle fell apart, he did too.

With every step that he took towards the double doors leading to his garden, his mind began to unravel, its ribbons thrumming within his skull. Madness crept into his heart as he realized he was about to breathe his last. This was the witch’s curse; to lose his mind and die. This was his last day, his last hour, his last moment. Anton had failed to find love. He had been unabashed, unrestrained in his love for Lottie and he had ultimately failed. No one would love him, no one would rescue him. He was damned.

Anton flung open the doors and stepped out into the darkness of the storm. The sky churned with mist and fire. Sheets of rain fell upon the cherry trees, the rose bushes, and the lilies. The water spilled over his bald head, down his gray skin. It soaked his robe, weighing him down. His toes curled in the mud beneath him and the demon in his mind told him that he was nothing but a worm, a maggot. How appropriate then that he would return to the dirt.

* * *

Lottie hurried through the halls of the castle. She discarded her lamp to free her hands as she flung open doors as she went. Nearly tripping on her dress as she ran, she clutched fistfuls of her skirts in her hands and continued through the castle. All around her, devastation had left its mark. Broken glass littered the floors of every room. The white walls were toppling over, crumbling and cracked, some bore massive holes, others were completely gone. White dust clung to every surface, even to the stagnant air within the castle. The heart of the home was a pale phantom, a ghost fading into smoke and dust.

Lottie’s heart was racing with anticipation. Anton’s favorite place to reside was within his garden. She knew to go there, but hesitated. Was she prepared to look upon his face once more? She trembled at the thought of his hollow eyes and his grisly flesh. Yet, she had seen what was beneath his awful bones. Within the fiend, she had found a heart of unbelievable beauty. Not even a face of a demon could keep her from a heart as pure as his.

As she progressed down a marble stairway that led to the garden, her dread intensified. Her gut twisted itself into knots with every step she descended. She did not understand why she was so fearful to meet Anton again and she hated herself for being so hesitant. She tried to fight away her fears.

Lottie finally reached the entrance to the garden. The doors were wide open and rain spilled in through the opening. She crossed over the threshold and thunder greeted her in the garden. Low black clouds swirled over head and she felt that she could reach up and touch them. Rain soaked her and mud stained the hem of her skirts. The wind and thunder were deafening. As she stepped forward, she paused before a tall slender figure enduring in the storm. His crimson robe was soaked and hung heavily on his back.

Her gut lurched and her heart pounded in her breast. Every nerve in her body turned to fire as she trembled. She took a breath and prepared herself to look upon him once more. She was stronger than the devil, for she would not cry.

With a fiery breath, Lottie spoke the name that was written on her heart. “Anton.”

The robed man became rigid as her voice rested upon him. Lottie waited as Anton straightened. His hairless head began to turn, his broad shoulders twisting to look behind him. Lottie felt her blood turn cold as Anton finally bared his face to her. She willed herself not to turn away, but she could not help from drawing back. She met his glossy, disturbing eyes. They were wide and entirely black as ink. His sharp nose was a hook over his bared teeth, protruding from his lips like spikes. His robe, heavy with rain, hung open, exposing his nakedness. His ghastly skin was gray with rot and stretched over his slender bones.

Anton’s black tongue slithered through his sharp teeth and whispered her name: “Lottie?”

* * *

Glory had come and was standing before him. She had said his name.

“Lottie?” It was all he could say.

Her beauty was just as breathtaking as when he had first met her. Her divine glory was blinding and so faultless it almost sickened him. Lottie’s large eyes, though glinting with fear, were as blue as the sea. Though the wind and rain had shaken her, her gleaming dark hair fell down her shoulders to her waist. The sweep of her throat and the curve of her breasts shimmered with golden blush. Her light skirts spilled out from her waist like a bell.

The fiendish Anton fell at her feet and cried, howling like a devil. He wept and trembled as the rain fell sharply on his back. The mud made a mess of his robe. His clawed hands grabbed onto her dress. He lifted his eyes to her glorious face. She was weeping. Her rose lips were shuddering with silent sobs. Her thin face glowed with blush.

“You’ve come back for me! Please say you’ve returned for me!” Anton cried, his tears streaking his face. Salvation had come! It had come at last! “Please, Lottie! If I cannot be with you, I will perish!” Anton was hysterical. He pulled at her skirt and the rain and tears blinded him.

“Anton…” Lottie’s beautiful face failed to hide her agony. Was she still so fearful of him? She was silent for a moment and Anton gripped her skirts firmly in case she turned from him. But, to his surprise, she spoke to him tenderly: “Anton, I have returned for you.” Her chin quivered, and fear paled the fire of her cheeks. The trembling girl bent down and took his claws in her small beautiful hands. She bent down to face him and kissed his fingers, her lips were like fire on his frigid skin. “Anton. I love you.”

* * *

Lottie forced herself to look at him. She swallowed her revulsion and said over and over, “I love you, I love you,” keeping her fear at bay, reminding herself what she was here to do. The beast she now held in her arms was the one she had been longing for, and she fought back the remaining fear in her heart to embrace it. She could feel the strength leaving his body as he slipped from her grip. Lottie trembled and cupped both of her hands around his face. She gently lifted his chin so she could face him. “Anton, my beloved,” she breathed.

Lottie searched his black eyes and it was as if she could see inside of him, down deep into him to see his soul. Unstoppably, she crushed her lips against his. She smiled against his lips and held his face in her hands. His skin was seemingly burning under her fingertips. She couldn’t make herself close her eyes, afraid to lose sight of the blazing fire in his own as he watched her.

Lottie kissed him and realized she had never wanted anything more than to be with him. She gathered him in her arms could not find the strength to pull away. Anton passionately kissed her back and shuddered so suddenly that he fell away from her and began to weep, falling with his face to the ground.

The clouds began to depart above them, letting light fall upon the gardens. Though light fell at their feet, the rain did not relent. In amazement, Lottie watched as Anton began to change. With every drop of rain that spilled across his flesh, it wiped away the gray. The dark shade of his skin was being washed away before her eyes as it gave way to a gleaming, blushing complexion. The crown of his shaved head glowed with color, the blushing fire sweeping down the back of his neck and across his exposed shoulders.

Anton’s robes were soaking, heavy, and clung awkwardly to his skin as he struggled to rise to his feet. His robe, hanging open, exposed the blushing color of his chest and belly. The once thin and narrow hallow of his torso was now full and curved, sculpted like marble and gleaming like bronze. His decaying claws had been replaced by long, strong fingers. Covered in mud and dripping from the rain, he lifted his face to her. Lottie began to weep in awe.

Glory had come.