THE BEAST

6: Eyes Don't Lie

Talk of the Beast repeated in my head all throughout dinner as Gran and my mother argued over how chicken should be cooked. I could barely taste the "dryness" as my mother described it, while visions of the creature danced around in my head.

Was he really as big as a car as Mr. Andrews described it? Was his teeth really as sharp as the black steel fence that surrounds the perimeter of their estate? If the Beast was real, that fence would not keep it out.

Fairytale or not, the idea of the Beast was fascinating. Why would someone concoct such a story? Probably to keep their children in past dark and their women on their best behaviors. Typical.

"Poppy?" My mother nearly shouted at me from across the table. Her tone was more annoyed indicating this wasn't the first time she had said my name.

I looked up at her expectantly, gore and horror still feeding my imagination.

"What is the matter with you? You've barely said anything all meal." This came from my dear old Granny as she peered over at me with worry, looking between me and my plate full of food.

"It's probably the dry chicken," my mother murmured while chewing.

Gran shot her a look that told her if she was fifteen years younger, she would be sending her off her to room without dinner, dry chicken or not.

"The chicken is great, Gran," I praised halfheartedly, making an attempt to stab my fork into the food and chewing it with enthusiasm. Mum was right. It is dry. My mother breathed out a nasally laugh as if she could tell just that.

"Are you still upset about the Andrews boy?"

I hated that the topic was brought up again. It made me sick to my stomach. I set down my fork and scooted back my chair from the table. "I think I am just tired. Is it okay if I head up to bed?"

"You don't have to ask, dear. You've had a long day." Gran gave me a weary smile as she watched me walk up the stairs and up to my room.

Once behind closed doors, I let out a whoosh of pinned up air. Today has been too much. Coming here to the countryside has always been my best escape. I was surrounded by animals which was a luxury that I didn't have in the city. I could breathe in as much fresh air that my little heart desired. I could even run for miles if I desired to do so, which is something I always dreamed of doing.

Now, in the corners of my mind I was scared for the animals. What if something-- the Beast-- took out every horse, every cow, every living, breathing, thing on Gran's farm? Me included.

I chuckle at myself and pull my hair on top of my hair with my ribbon so it was away from my face. My hair was like my worries, if I couldn't see it, it wasn't there. I always saw my hair as some kind of curtain, as a hood, of keeping one's thoughts hidden. Under my hood held a bunch of questions. Some that would make me seem as crazy as my Grandmother.

I slipped out of my dress and climbed under the covers, the smooth silk cocooning my body like a cool hug. The breeze from my cracked window left goosebump on my exposed shoulders but I couldn't get myself to get back up and close it.

I must have dozed off because in my dreamlike state the feel of something warm and wet slid up my leg in a taunting trail. It circled my knee to the point that I lazily readjusted my sleeping position but it just moved to my thigh.

I suppressed an irritated moan and when it finally escaped my throat, it came out more aroused than irritated. I went to bat the feeling away but what my hand came in contact with made my sleepy mind begin the wake.

Soft fur gripped between my fingers. I pulled at it to move it off my heated skin which only grew hotter when a deep growl vibrated at my touch. It was as if the sound lulled me deeper to sleep, my mind going into overdrive at the feel of wet trail moving up my body.

In a flash, the velvet sensation of fur was gone and a pair on firm lips pressed softly against mine as if they weren't really there in the first place. The feel was so soft that my head followed the movement they took when they pulled back, just to make sure they were really touching mine.

My eyes popped open and I sat up straight in my bed. I touched my lips, the slight tingle still there under my fingertips. But it was just a dream. A very hormonal dream, but a dream none of the less. Then how come I tasted evergreens?

A movement caught my eyes in the direction of the window. My heart sped up in my chest but plateaued some at the realization that it was just the flowing yellow curtains taking flight because of the fully opened window.

Wait.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and rushed to the window. I don't remember fully opening this before I fell asleep. It was opened but only a crack. I was on the second floor, there was no way someone could have climbed through my window...

As if some paranoid urge told me to look towards the forest, I did. And what I saw lodged a scream in my throat.

Looking back at me was Dalton Andrews, his eyes appearing to glow under the moonlight. And with one drawn out gaze as if daring me to follow him, he disappeared back into the woods.

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Andy there's another chapter. Thoughts so far?

Thanks for reading guys! I'm excited to do this fairytale, well known story, of red ridinghood, and I am enjoying so far on making it my own! Next chapter in the works, stay tuned...