Page 1 of Beau and the Beast

Prologue

1997

“Beau honey, why are you crying?”

Their father stopped reading from the storybook, marking his place and setting it on the bedside table before swiping a big hand across his oldest son’s forehead.

“Why did he have to die?” Beau asked.

“The brave hero lived,” Noah said, tugging at his arm from his place in bed next to Beau. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m not sad about Theseus,” Beau said, frowning at his little brother through his tears. “Why did the minotaur have to die?”

In the dim light of their bedroom, he looked from his brother’s face to his father’s and then back. Could neither of them really understand why he was upset?

The minotaur in the story had never asked to be born. He didn’t mean to be a monster. He ate people because he was hungry.

Why had nobody ever stopped to ask if he was hungry, if there was somethingelsehe could eat?

Why did he have to die?

Beau blubbered, feeling even worse, even more alone because Noah and Dad didn’t understand.

“It’s okay, honey,” his dad said, smiling and rubbing his arm. Noah rolled over in bed to hug him.

“It’s just a fairy tale,” Noah said.

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter,” Beau protested, railing against them, feeling like the whole world was so unfair.

Why did their bedtime stories always have to end like this?

Ten years it took a good man’s heart

to blacken and to rot.

Slowly did the weed creep in,

a small and thorny knot.

The change was slow, the fog rolled in

to cloud the young man’s heart

Til naught remained but blood and bone

and cold and damp and dark.

And now the truth is shown at last,

the claw and horn and hide,

A warning to the world beyond

of hate that lurks inside.

Ten years to fall and ten to rise,

time's fingers point the way.

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