The Curse
1482 Words
The prince instinctively dropped his hands to cover and protect his crotch. For the first time in his life, real fear crossed his face. "What are you going to do to me?"
The troll snorted. "Nothing you haven't already done to yourself. I'm simply going to let the truth shine through." With that, the troll waved his arm in the air.
The prince stared wide-eyed as the troll began to change in front of his eyes. His hunched-over posture straightened up. His limbs lengthened. He went from four feet to five, to six and finally stopped growing at a strapping six foot, four inches. His pointy ears shrunk and rounded off. His scraggly beard fell to the floor, replaced by a clean-shaven face. His pointy teeth whitened and retracted to normal appearance. His ratty clothes dissolved. In their place, a suit of the most expensive fabric and finest tailoring appeared.
The troll transformed into a drop-dead gorgeous stud, the kind of man that the prince would have gladly welcomed into his castle and especially into his bed.
"Damn! You're so hot!" the prince gushed. "Why didn't you tell me or show me right from the beginning? We could have been having mad passionate s*x by now! I'm so sorry I insulted you before. Let's go to my bedchamber and-"
"Not so fast," the troll-turned-hunk commented as he saw the undeniable excitement growing in the prince's pants. "I said I was going to let the truth shine through and I did – my truth. Now it's time for your truth to shine through." He waved his hand in the prince's direction.
As if punched in the stomach by some invisible force, the prince flew backwards. "Ouch!" he complained as he landed on his butt on the spiral staircase. He felt pin pricks all over his body even though nothing was touching him and the former troll was several feet away.
The prince's chest suddenly felt terribly itchy. He scratched through his shirt, but there was no relief. He wanted to scratch the skin directly. He couldn't even wait to unbutton his shirt. He pulled the fabric apart, popping the buttons off.
"What's happening to me?" the prince screamed in horror. A thick mat of hair – no, make that fur – rapidly grew over and devoured his perfectly-sculpted smooth pecs! The same thing happened to his legs and back. He was so shocked by the fur covering his skin that he didn't realize for a moment that his arms and legs were changing too – more into paws than human limbs.
The prince brought his hands to his face. He felt the features change shape right under what was left of his fingertips. His nose grew longer and whiskers sprouted from it. His clean-shaven cheeks turned as hairy as his chest. Bushy eyebrows sprouted above his eyes. His lips suddenly hurt where elongated fangs poked into them.
He knew he'd landed on an empty stair when he was thrown backwards. Why did it suddenly feel like he was sitting on something? He reached under his rear end and found something there. He pulled it to get it out of the way. He let out a high-pitched yelp because pain shot up his spine. He realized he had pulled a tail – his own!
"Change me back at once!" the prince demanded. Only it no longer sounded like him when he spoke. Where was his masculine, commanding voice? The gravelly, raspy sound coming from deep within his throat resembled a growl mixed with a howl.
"I couldn't even if I wanted to. That's not how the curse works. Only you have the power to break it yourself."
"How?" growled the prince-turned-beast.
"If you can learn to truly love another man and earn his love in return, then the spell will be broken. Oh, and there's a time limit."
"Of course there is," mumbled the beast.
Even though the embroidered handkerchief had been in his vest pocket when he was in the form of the troll, the sorcerer now pulled the same handkerchief out of the pocket of his fancy new clothes. He tossed it to the beast who caught it with his half paw/half hand.
"As you may have noticed earlier, there's something peculiar about the cloth from which this is made. It can't be moistened by ordinary water. Only your honest tears will get this handkerchief wet. It will never dry. Every tear you shed will get the handkerchief a bit wetter, even if it's not in your possession when you're crying."
"So what?" questioned the beast.
"Here's the important part," the sorcerer told him. "If you can love another man and be loved in return by him while there is still a dry spot on the handkerchief, then the spell will be broken. If that doesn't happen by the time the handkerchief becomes completely soaked by your tears, then you'll remain a beast forever!"
"Then I will never shed a single tear," the beast said confidently.
"We shall see," said the sorcerer. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the compact mirror that the beast (when he was still a prince) had refused earlier. The sorcerer opened the mirror and held it up to the beast's face.
The beastly eyes bulged from the former prince's face when he saw what he now looked like. It was a hundred times worse than the troll's ugly look had been. He was hideous! No man would ever be interested in having s*x with him again. All those noblemen, knights, princes, and kings who'd been so willing to jump in the sack with him in the past would now take one look at him and run screaming.
He'd spend the rest of his life alone. Who would ever love such a beast?
When the thought hit him, the tears flowed freely. Sure enough, even though it was nowhere near his face or his teardrops, the handkerchief in his hand started to get wet in one corner. The damn thing knew he was crying and acted accordingly.
"No, no, no!" the beast screamed. He threw the compact to the floor. He picked up a chair and hurled it at the closest mirror. The pieces shattered all over the place. Some landed on his fur. He continued his rampage around the room, smashing all the ornate mirrors that he'd always spent so much time admiring himself in.
The beast picked up the compact and found its mirror hadn't shattered when he threw it to the floor. This time, he flung it with all his might against the stairs. It made a terrible racket as it hit the edge of one stair and bounced down several more. When he went over to it to get the satisfaction of seeing it smashed, he was horrified to discover that it was still very much intact.
The sorcerer did nothing to contain his smug smile. "That's a magic mirror. It's unbreakable. It can also show you more than a reflection. It can show you what you want most in the world. In your case, that will probably also turn out to be what you deserve the least!" The sorcerer's laugh echoed throughout the entire castle as he disappeared in a puff of smoke.
The beast went through the rest of the castle breaking all the mirrors in every room because he couldn't bear to see what he had become.
* * *
Several years went by, during which the beast locked himself up in the castle, too ashamed of his appearance to step foot beyond the castle grounds. He was careful over the years to avoid anything that might make him cry and therefore hasten the soaking of the handkerchief.
Despite his beastly presence, as time went on, a few tearful incidents did occur. Once, a bee stung him right in the nose. Another time he got a thorn stuck in his paw while tending to the castle's rose garden.
There were a few tear-inducing kitchen mishaps with sharp knives soon after his transformation. He had a terrible time trying to hold utensils in his paws. He soon learned that trying to cut an onion posed a double hazard. Before long, the beast simply tore into his food with his paws like an animal and human manners were completely disregarded.
He kept the magic mirror hidden away in a wardrobe in an unused wing of the castle. He dared not gaze into it for fear it would show him his heart's desire which might bring a tear to his eye.
No matter how careful he had been over the years, the little handkerchief had only a few dry spots left. The beast had long ago given up all hope of ever breaking the curse. He could never get the thought out of his mind: Who would ever love such a beast?
- Writer
