Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 74631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Today, on this bright, sunny morning, I work my way through toast dripping with butter, bacon, and honey ham. My father and I could rarely afford these expensive meats after my mother died. We were grateful for the castoffs from the bakery that Ara sometimes let me take. There is fresh fruit dusted with sugar for me as well and eggs that are still hot, as if they have just been tipped out of the pan, though I know they had to travel here from the kitchen somehow.
I think often of my father and how he must be worried. It does not escape me that the magic seems to calm my thoughts when they drift to him. Like a distraction or a sweet little lullaby. I wish it wouldn’t. The guilt of being so comfortable consumes me.
When I can’t eat another bite, I go to the large bathroom and bathe as the sun streams down, casting reflections of the water on the walls. I have never used such fine soap as I do in the beast’s castle. It never chaps my skin and is perfumed with the essence of roses. When I step out of the bath I feel like I’ve been born into another world and my old life has become a dream.
As I dry myself off and dress for the day, I think of how easy it is to get used to hot water and fine food. My hair is clean and shiny all the time and when I move it carries the scent of the soap I used.
In a way, my life at the beast’s castle is simpler than my life in the village. It was harder when I lived with my father, but I knew the basics would not change. We had to make money. We had to buy food and collect wood for the fire, or else we would starve or freeze.
Here, those worries are nonexistent. There will seemingly always be food whenever I’m hungry, and the fires light themselves. I never have to go collect wood and worry I won’t be able to find enough. I don’t have to bother with concerns that I’ll be hurt somehow, or my father will get injured, and we’ll have to make do without one of our paychecks. I’m beginning to think I could read for years and never run out of books in the beast’s library, and if I twisted my ankle, the magic would probably send bandages to wrap around it and a cushion to rest it on.
When I am dressed and ready to explore more of the castle, I find myself missing the heat of the summer and the blue skies above and all the green plants that fill the countryside. I had not spent much time in the terrarium because it seemed so alive and not in need of my help to fix itself.
Now I go there simply for the pleasure of it.
The terrarium is larger than the ballroom. It’s large enough to fit rows and rows of garden beds built up so I can let my fingertips brush the flowers as I walk through. There are even trees in the terrarium, placed at the corners and throughout the flower beds. It does not remind me of the forest, but perhaps a small orchard without full rows of trees.
It’s almost as if I’m walking outside, but there is magic here, too. As I walk, flowers bloom ahead of me, opening as if I’m the sun telling them that it’s time to wake up for the day.
I walk through each row, marveling at the many hues of the flowers. Each one has perfect petals, and they seem to open themselves wide and lush as if they want to impress me. These flowers have only ever known this life. They do not find it strange to be pampered in a terrarium. They would probably be happy to be picked by someone passing by and placed in a vase where they could decorate other parts of the castle.
They’ve never had to worry about birds swooping down from the sky to pluck them away or being stepped on by a woman walking too fast to get to work. They are beautiful, and if I could, I would write about them to my father.
I again feel the twinge of guilt for leaving my father and not pressing the beast to let me contact him. I have to take him at his word, and I feel like my asking would only be answered in silence. I want to tell my father I am well, and there are not many chances to see the beast, so it is almost always on my mind.
My father must be worried. He has to support himself alone and collect firewood and fret about warming the house. He is older and life has not been kind to his body. He has to put food on the table and probably cannot spare any time to search for me. I hope he does not. I do not know what I would do if my father arrived at the gate looking for me. Would I be able to stay inside? Or would I tell him from within the walls that I do not have to worry about anything but freedom in the beast’s castle? There is nothing for me to want other than freedom…although even more than freedom these days, I want company.