Beauty and the Beast

The Road Through the Dark Forest

Before dawn, Maurice kissed Belle on the forehead, loaded his invention onto his wagon, and set off through the village with his faithful horse, Philippe, trotting confidently beside him. The road to the city fair was long but well-traveled, and Maurice was in high spirits — whistling to himself, planning his speech for the judges, imagining Belle's proud face when he returned with a prize ribbon.

But as the morning wore on, the sky darkened. The cheerful country road gave way to a narrower path that wound deep into a forest Maurice had not intended to enter. He consulted his map and frowned — he had taken a wrong turn somewhere, and now the trees pressed close on either side, their bare branches clawing at the grey sky like skeletal fingers.

Then the storm arrived. Thunder split the air. Lightning flashed in jagged bolts across the forest canopy. Rain hammered down so hard Maurice could barely see the road ahead. Philippe whinnied and stamped, terrified, and when a wolf leaped from the underbrush with a bloodcurdling howl, the horse bolted — snapping the wagon harness and galloping away into the darkness, leaving Maurice stranded and alone.

More wolves circled through the trees. Maurice ran — stumbling over roots, splashing through icy puddles, his lantern guttering in the wind. He pushed through thorns and branches until he burst through a gap in the undergrowth and stopped dead.

Before him stood a castle. It was immense and ancient, its towers disappearing into the storm clouds, its iron gates standing open as though waiting. Every window was dark. Ivy covered the stones. Yet there was something about it — a faint warmth, a vague sense of shelter — that drew Maurice forward. He pushed open the great front door and stepped inside, grateful simply to be out of the rain. He had no idea he had just walked into a story far stranger and more dangerous than anything his daughter had ever read.