The Vampire's Courtship (Part II)

Iron our clothes, Beauty. Go up to the woods and get us some charcoal, Beauty. Make us the meals Beauty. These were her daily tortures in forever underworld.1

Beauty obeyed, even though she was a shattered rose with its petals of life drifting away. Her blistered fingers stung by wood thorns, and delicacies made with her bleeding hands (when she could not even enjoy a wee bit of luxury!) and ironed her clothes with a metal utensil as hot as the core of the Earth. No appreciation. Another day filled with tinge of sadness and fading hope.2

＆Why, is this baked cake dripped with red drops?＊ scorned the wife.3

＆Mum, my Chinese silk dress! It looked as if it has just been washed. Beauty, you bastard, come here and fix my dress, or if you have the money, pay it!＊ her spoiled half-sister screamed.4

＆By the way, Beauty 每 the drops on the cake resemble human blood. Don＊t＊ dare contaminate your filthy blood into our royal veins!＊ murmured the wife, with a humiliating tone. 5

Another night of never-ending terror in this blue-blooded chateau, shimmering with agate. Stark naked, Beauty＊s translucent skin and swelling breasts were revealed, as if she was a slave of deathly lethargies and practices. Dragged into the front yard 每 beaten; burned; slapped like a circus entertainer. But the animals didn＊t dare to watch her silken skin corrupt. A rattlesnake came. Her saviour.6

She licked the blood-spattered wounds of Beauty like any mother would.7

My poor Beauty. If it were not for the curse of the Countess, I would be raising you. Your mother was innocent, when the death hour struck, she told me to take good care of you.  Don＊t worry, good luck will come.8

That night, snow fallen peculiarly, as snowflakes were acrobats weaving a series of elegant dances 每 one by one, melted into the warm pond of ice. Fairies and pixies thrived in the land of the lifeless, their delicate flowered wings swaying, as if delivering a special message, even though they might wither into darkness and end their gift of immortality. Pure surrealism. Nevertheless, as chorus of ravens＊ flew, scattering strangeness into the realm of the dead, Beauty＊s hopes were slashed as if demonic monsters stabbed her heart with wholesale wickedness. 9

This was a northern country. Bitter. Heartless. Tempest. They used ravens and crows as messengers, and gamble with Nocturnal Beasts. An assortment of shadowy figures landed on the enormous fortress of gems. It was a message from the King in the neighbouring kingdom of sunshine. Rumours suggested that the southern kingdom was a paradise island, where the sun spilled food for you. It was an invitation to the Royal Ball, celebrating the crowning of the Prince.10

The tanned daughter cried joys of excitement, so loud her screams echo through the entire northern skies. The villagers knew 每 time had come for the malicious Count＊s spoilt daughter to marry; they too experienced delight 每 one less evil heiress in the gloomy town of eternal damnation!11

Standing in her full height, the tanned daughter＊s dress was as dark as charcoal, with detailed patterns of crows. She resembled the darkest hour of midnight in land of winter. She glanced with pride, being particularly sarcastic to Beauty 每 her beautiful toad servant.12

Mother can I come too?13

My dear, daughters of concubine will only wreck a family＊s honour. Besides, look at you 每 who would want a partner dressed in rags?14

Beauty cried in despair, her tears glittered, like angels＊ blessings. Only two hours before the majestic ball.  Yet, the rats continue to sing their songs of joy, and the rattlesnake danced elegantly in their company in the barn 每 perhaps something good would happen. She turned around to the frosted windows. Ah! A stream of crimson blood scattered along the white snow, with dead corpses (how amusing, all corpses of merciless men) spreading across the snowy plateau.15