The Beast And His Beauty

They don’t go to the brick wall. No one in the village does. Ever since I was a little girl, everyone has warned me not to go or even to look at it. And if you happen to find yourself close to the wall, run as fast and as far away as you can. The magic from the beast creeps beyond the wall, but not by much.

No one who values their life approaches the enchanted area, let alone searches out the gate. Everyone is sure not to provoke the enchanted area. Those who do, don’t come back to tell their tales.

The magic is dark. And it’s all from the beast.

FOR THE LAST 19 YEARS OF MY LIFE, I’ve heard the tales and been warned to stay away. The thing is though, I’m not a very good listener. I got lost in the magic. He scented me. He claimed me with a bite on my neck. And I ran. Quickly and with a new terror racing in my heart.

I swore I would never return. I would not trust the magic and allow it to entrance me again. I would not risk being caught in the hands of the Beast again.

But that was months ago and I miss the magic. Not only that, but I dream of the beast. It’s not a dream I’d admit to out loud, but it’s a dream I’d like to see come true.

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Hljóðbók: 26 augusti 2024