But A Beast - Drabble

When he arrived, the twilight made his wild eyes glow. The tears spread in drops like dew

on his lashes, and sparkled in the oncoming starlight. He gently tapped his short nails on

the glass panes set in the door in rapid succession: tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. When they did

not come, his anxiety grew until he felt as though it was crushing his lungs and choking

his throat; He began to claw at the panes – fitting, as he was little but a beast in his

predicament. A mighty lion turned wailing kitten was he.

At last, they came – their black skirts swished as the walked, and their boots clicked on

the stone tiles - and opened the door. He tried to seem as dignified as possible, but as

soon as they brought him to the kitchen, he gave up, and collapsed on the hand-hooked rug.

He showed them the scars where he had carved her name into himself; he was so struck with

turmoil that he found himself sick on most days, and today he simply got lucky. His aunts

did something they rarely did: they took pity on him. Never before had the seen him so

weak. He was a strong boy, fierce, and a force to be reckoned with. They liked him for all

the times he would boss around other adults, because he knew better, but always listened

to them. He would lay beneath their over-grown wisteria with his blanket of black wool – a gift

from them, made from the finest; and all he ever asked for when he went away was for the

black soap that they made and sold. He was the child neither of them ever had. The aunts

leaned into each other.


"Get the bird." one, her hair fair, whispered gently. The other, her hair a dark auburn,

snorted.


"Get the book!" she whispered back.

The first aunt let the heavy tome land on the kitchen table with a 'thud!', and the other

set a saucer before him. He was sobbing into his arms, head down. One of them began to

stroke his hair soothingly.


"Arthur," she crooned, "dear, cruel Arthur."  Arthur lifted his head. On the saucer was

something that shocked even the toughest woman brought to their back door. But, just like

him, they were all desperate enough to try it: a dove's heart.


"You know what to do." said one of the crones. Arthur nodded. He offered them the money

that his aunts would have normally wanted, but they waved it away. He knew how to repay

them. So, the next morning, after a night of sleeping on the divan in the living room,

Arthur would get up and garden. He would shock the people who hadn't seen him in years,

and – quite frankly – hadn't missed him. He would spend a week being his old self, but

then he had to return to the academy. It would have been a wonderful week, if it weren't

for his shredded, longing heart.