Beauty and the Beast

I'm calling this prose... 'cause that's what it's supposed to be. Haha. Anyhoo, it's not a fairytale, just a role reversing look at the idea of Beauty and the Beast.



Beauty looked at herself in the mirror, seeing not a flaw. There was none there, nothing that would hinder her superiority. She was perfect, from what was seen. She was beautiful, from what was perceived. She was flawless, from what was visible. Beauty was nothing more.

The Beast cowered in the corner, dwelling on his mistakes. There was nothing, nothing good in all he had done. He was imperfect, from what was accepted. He was ugly, from what was known. He was flawed, from what he'd caused. The Beast was nothing more.

Beauty saw the advantage she had, she laughed gallantly at her gift in appearance. She knew that men look no farther than the exterior, and discovered the world was at her beck and call with just a glance. She realized her power; upon it she acted. Beauty was going astray.

The Beast saw what he was, and wept for his wickedness. He knew the world would look no farther on him than his past, and he could not move forward in the same direction. He realized his mistake; upon it he turned around. The Beast was going back.

Beauty frowned at suffering, and smiled at good fortune. She glowered at poverty, and gazed at riches. She scoffed at ignorance, though she was it. Beauty was on her way.

The Beast frowned at good fortune, and smiled at suffering. He glowered at riches, and gazed at poverty. He sighed at awareness, and he was it. The Beast was on his way.

Beauty embraced the world for all it had, she greeted it with a smile and a kiss. There was nothing she denied herself. She drank in the wealth of the world like an expensive wine, and all was hers, but nothing was hers. She was beginning.

The Beast embraced hard work for all it had, he greeted it like an old friend. There was nothing he couldn't do, or wouldn't try. He was drank the punishment of the world like a nasty medicine, and nothing was his, but all was his. He was beginning.

Beauty had travelled all the world, taking what she could. Fame, riches, food, and drink. Everything was hers, but the things that cannot be owned fled from her presence. Love turned his back, though lust ran rampant. Friendship was not to be found, though fair weathered companions were everywhere. Family was non-existent, though false comforts told her it was fine. Beauty was lost.

The Beast travelled all the land, repaying all he'd taken. Money, time, labor, and favor. Nothing was his, but the things that cannot be owned found him. Love was present, lusts faded away. Friendship was formed, fair weathered companions fell behind. Family was re-united, and false comforts were no more. The Beast was found.

Beauty had faded, her imagery gone. Wrinkles adorned her brow, and her once vibrant hair muddied to but a dull sheen. Sorrow was etched in her eyes, regret in her cheek. Life had rejoiced in her for a while, but it left her as a passing wind. Beauty tore at her hair, and beat her chest. Everything was gone, and she cried out, but no one heard. Beauty became the Beast.

The Beast had faded, his harshness gone. Wrinkles of hardship adorned his face, and his hair had turned to white. Yet happiness was etched in his warm eyes, and relief in his cheek. Life had cursed and beat him for a while, but it changed as the passing of the season. The Beast rubbed his face, and blinked his eyes. Everything was there, and he was silent, his family and love by his side. The Beast became Beautiful.

The Beauty-turned-Beast groaned with her last breath, bitterness and regret her only companions. Her fleeting ways, her passing joys, all left her empty, cold, and alone. And there she lay, soon to be forever gone, with nothing left of who she'd been. No life left in the ugly frame, only a creature more fearsome than hunger and want. And life was gone from Beauty.

The Beautiful Beast smiled with a deep breath, love and family his dear friends. His ways he'd changed, and his repentance had brought him fulfillment, warmth, and companionship. And there he sat, much time still ahead of him, with nothing left of who he'd been. No pain left in his body, only a creature more kind and gentle than affection and compassion. And life was full for the Beast.