Story 38, part four in my retelling of Beauty and the Beast. If you are just finding my blog now, you probably want to read part one, part two, part three, and four first. The last two installments are written; I just have to do the illustrations for them. I refuse to speculate how long those will take, as clearly every time I give myself a deadline I refuse to meet it. So!
If you’d like a print of this story’s illustration, you can find that here.
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He went out from the tower,
The ancient and ruined place,
Where once humans had ruled
And now the beast slept.
The beast, with whom he had kept
Good and gentle company,
Brought him a bramble in her teeth:
The thorns as long as claws,
Sharp as death in winter.
“Wear thee this, on thy wrist,”
Said the voice in the trees.
“When its teeth have gone dull,
Know that the beast has died
Heartbroken, for want of thee.”
Khirkara got a ride from an old man in an ancient board-sided livestock truck, well after the sun had set. He wasn’t the only passenger; another young man with a shaved head sat in the center of the bench seat. A thin boy was asleep in the space under the dashboard. No one spoke except for the wind and the sheep crammed in the bed of the truck, who baaed fervently.