“Will you marry me?” I gasp and my eyes widen. Did I hear him right? Yes. His dark eyes dig into me. Imploring. Loving. The deep inky water of his eyes beckoning. But no, I have to think of my father, my future. I cannot marry this beautiful beast. I just can’t. He can sense my answer already and he turns away from me. “I used to be a prince once.” He whispers, “before...before I turned into this. Me.” I don’t believe him. How could someone like him be a prince. But the scars etching his face tell me the truth, even before I ask him. He actually was. He actually was a prince. But no one would believe me. What would people say if I said I married him? No money, no power. Nothing. I can’t give into my feelings for him. I just can’t. I turn away from him. “I love you. You know that. But you also know that I cannot marry you.”

I let a tear trickle down my face, a stream of anger and regret. And I start walking away. Away from him. “Beauty!” He calls after me. I run now. He’s not making this parting easy. “You must kiss me for me to turn into a prince again.” He shouts. I’m so far away that his voice is like an echo. An echo of what my life could’ve been. I shake my head. He really thinks I’d believe that? Who does he think I am?

I’m outside now, amongst the rows and rows of blood-red roses. I snap one from its stem and turn to him. He’s closer to me now. “We can never be beauty and the beast.” I say. Tears running like rivers now. I drop the rose to the ground and step on it, crushing it. “Goodbye beast.”

I’m running. The trees towering above me blur into one. Dappled moonlight peaks through the them, only just lighting my way. Shadows are pooling at the bottom, creating icy, black lakes. I must get out of here. I need to feel the moonlight. On my face, my hands, my arms. I need to feel it. Suddenly I burst out into a clearing. Tall grass sways in the wind, whispering secrets, looking like a ruff sea with its clasping and frothing waves. I step out into the middle and unbutton my shirt, taking in all the moons rays. Nearly. It’s nearly a full moon. The cloud brushes away and I can full the moon pulling at me. My heart races faster that humanly possible. And I have turned. I have turned into a wolf.

There’s an empty space. There, Where everything hurts. You’re gone.

The dove-white mountains, Soar into the sky. Shadows dripping down and pooling at the bottom. Taking everything in it’s dark. You’re gone.

It hurts.

The tears I have cried build a staircase, Reaching up to heaven. If only I could reach you, and Pull you back down. But you’re gone.

You’re roaming fields, Swimming in seas, If only you could come back to me.

Stars. Like scattered moon dust in the sky. Like beacons of hope for the lost souls. Flashing, flickering. Gleaming, glittering. Overcrowded. Like a party, like a town. Like a country, like the world. Until they are gone and I’m all alone.

I’d love some feedback. I’m writing a book and would like to use this. Just say whether you think it I should use this and what would make it better. Thanks!

The mansion towers up above me like a giant, threatening to pick me up and eat me. Dappled moonlight peers through the dead trees that line the path to the house, swallowing everything with an eerie glow. Shadows drip down from the top of the house and pool at the bottom.

I push the door and it creakily yawns open, sending light rushing across the hallway. I walk down carefully, the floorboards groaning under my weight. Paintings blanketed with dust line the hallway. I reach out and brush the dust off of one of the more larger ones. A woman sits proudly on a stool, her long blonde hair sliding down to her feet like a snake. “Evie.” I jump and swiftly turn to where the disembodied voice came from. It’s Celia. “Hey.” I whisper. “You got it?” She asks. “Yes.” I sling my backpack onto the floor and delve into it, my shaking fingers fumbling around in the dark. Finally I find it, stand up, and give her the papers. “I have some homework due next week too. I’ll meet you here again, same time.” She says. I nod. I turn to leave but a glimpse of red veers into my vision. I stop in my tracks and Celia bumps into me. “What are you doing?” She snaps. I ingnore her and bend down, reaching out to touch it. Blood. Leading to a cupboard. I reach my hand out and clasp the handle, my knuckles turning white from the grip. It creaks and stutters as I turn it. Pressing my hand against the door, I close my eyes. This can’t be happening. I open the door and I gasp.

What is freedom? I wade under waterfalls, Until my feet are dry. I swim with cold kissing waves, Until I am warm. Impossibilities are endless, Until they are made true.

Wisdom is caught then free. Worries are caught then free. Birds are caught then free. But what is freedom?