Isabella and the Beast by Audrey Grace Page A

lightly, trying not to think on the stories she had heard, but she could not. It was said that the beast that dwelt in Dark Forest, the creature so large and terrifying it stopped hearts dead, fed on the bodies of virgins; women, but never men. They said he was covered with a thick coating of fur, that he was only half a man, and that his other half was pure monster, spat out by hell itself because even the demons and devils of the underworld wanted nothing to do with it.
    “Stop it,” she hissed at herself. “It’s not real. They’re only stories.”
    But as the shadows grew longer, and as Franco made his way deeper into the Dark Forest, it was easy to think of those tall tales, of those scary stories.
    “Why are you afraid, Franco?” she asked as her horse snorted air, exhaled mightily through its nostrils. “You don’t have legends of monsters swirling around inside your mind? What is frightening you?”
    Isabella felt tremors of fear pulse through her as it dawned on her that horses were animals that merely reacted. If Franco was afraid, it was not because he was thinking of a monster under the bed. No, it was because he could smell or hear or feel, with that animal instinct long since lost to men and women, something troubling nearby.
    “Quicker, Franco!” she whispered, digging her heels slightly into the beast’s sides, and Franco sped up to a canter. The bouncing light from the lantern cast inconsistent cones of orange illumination on the path before them, and every now and then, darkness would completely engulf winding, narrow trail.
    Minutes passed, perhaps a dozen, perhaps more. “We should be a quarter of the way through by now, Franco,” Isabella whispered, but she had said it more for her own benefit than his.
    Though her horse might read the tones of her voice, he, of course, did not know the words, and Isabella wondered for a moment if Franco was not fooled by her words; if he could indeed sense the trembling fear lurking in the pitch of her voice, in the way in which she delivered her words.
    As the lantern bobbed in her hand, Isabella began to look left and right, fearing that if such a monster, such a beast as the legends spoke of, would attack, it would not do so from in front. That would be too obvious, and men with bows and arrows could easily fire true nearly two hundred paces.
    No, if the beast were going to attack a man or woman, it would do so from the sides, or from…
    Behind!
    Isabella whipped her head around, and as she turned her lantern with her, twisting her torso so that it nearly hurt, she saw two yellow specks fade into the night.
    “No!” she shrieked. Goose bumps erupted on her body. A chill ran down her spine. Sweat beaded on her upper lip and forehead, and her heart pumped fear.
    But the eyes had disappeared into the darkness, and looking frantically around Isabella was terrified that she could not see them anymore.
    “Faster, Franco!” she yelled. “It’s here!”
    Franco responded, and galloped as quickly as he could through the dense trees, before he came to a roaring, whinnying stop, rising up onto his hind legs. Steam poured out of his nose as he exhaled in fear.
    Isabella saw, as she fell from her horse’s back, the orange glow of her lantern cast against the canopy of the forest.
    And then everything turned to darkness.
     
    * * *
     
    It was still dark when Isabella finally opened her eyes. She blinked, straining to glimpse at her surroundings, wondering where she was. It was cold and damp, and the ground beneath her felt similarly wet, if not a little slippery.
    After a moment, she managed to sit up, and she gingerly reached around to touch the back of her head. She winced as pain shot through her. On the back of her head was a lump the size of a chestnut.
    As her vision began to fully return to her, she noticed that she was in a room. The walls were too straight, and the ceiling was too high for it to be a cave, or anything like that. And when she looked