Fantasy Short Story: "Curse as Old as Time" || A Final Exam Project

This story is an adaptation (a retelling, to be exact) of Beauty and the Beast which tells about magic, responsibility, and regret.  

Created and published online by Azzah Fatira Shofiyyah Hilwani, Lutfia Juwita Hakim, Auliya Nursyifa, Kenjiro Aditya, and Kayla Audrey as our Intermediate Vocabulary's final exam project

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ONCE UPON A TIME, a mother told her child, “Never break a witch’s heart. For even the most powerful of men shall fall helpless, brought to their knees beneath the magic that binds them.”

    Just as it had befallen His Highness the Prince and his servants a decade ago.

    Because of mere mockery and laughter, that grand castle now stood silent, inhabited by monsters.

    “Someone shall vanquish the monsters in that castle,” the mother said. “Gaston the hunter will do so, and deliver our village.”

***

In another world, Belladonna Brooks, a broken-hearted New York surgeon, had to operate on a man.

    An abusive man.

    A man obsessed with her.

    And with other women.

    Her ex-boyfriend.

    Were it not for her strict adherence to her professional oath, she would have refused to meet him. Sadly, as a high-ranking surgeon, she lived a life governed by medicare protocols and the relentless rhythm of the OR. 

    Their reunion did not go smoothly. The man tried to hold Belladonna back right in the middle of her hospital examination.

    “Hear me out first, Bel,” he said.

    “There’s nothing I need to hear from you other than your pre-op physical condition.” Belladonna refused to even utter his name. “And call me Dr. Brooks. Watch your behavior. This is a hospital.”

    A few hours before the surgery, Belladonna fell asleep in her office, gathering her strength to face her ex once more over the operating table.

    Strangely, she awoke in an unfamiliar place. There was no operating room, no FAST scan. Panic and confusion surged through her. She took several deep, measured breaths until she calmed down. She would not let a single tear escape, nor would she allow her professional composure to tear apart. She was a doc who thrived on logic, yet here she was, stripped of her lab equipment and her biotech tools.

    As she rose from the bed, she spotted an enchanted rose beneath a glass dome. A letter lay beside it—crumpled yet shimmering, ancient and magical.

______

To anyone who would change fate, 

    I am indeed lowly and plain of face, but a boorish, arrogant prince is no better than I. That fateful night, he declared, “Unlike you, I shall always be loved by all,” and everyone within the castle laughed.

    At first, it was polite amusement, yet it soon turned to cruel mockery.

    I cast a curse upon them so they might learn their lesson. I granted them time to realize their wrongdoing. I bestowed a single rose as a warning. Should all its petals wither and fall before the prince confesses his guilt, then this kingdom shall become nothing but a memory.

    Noble traveler, I do not require his apology. I desire only that he learns. Therefore, before you resume your journey, stay with the prince until he has decided his own fate.

Yours, The Witch.

______

    She did not know that a beast quietly observed her from the shadows. Its tail twitched. 

    When she tried to touch the rose, the creature growled and roared, nearly harming her on the first day in the fairy tale

    Belladonna did not like this place. The beastly creature reminded her too much of the man she was supposed to operate on; not only was he hideous, but he also took pleasure in causing her harm. Differences in vocabulary also frequently caused misunderstandings. She once asked, “Can I have some jelly for my bread? I'd like to have some brunch.” 

    Mrs. Potts, a delicate talking teapot, stared at her before bustling over to serve her a bunch of gelatin desserts. The teapot exclaimed, “Oh, dear! I have never seen anyone eat bread with jelly before!”

    Lumiere the candelabra recounted much of the curse’s history. He confessed his own guilt, admitting he had been negligent in guiding the prince, who had been so young and childish at the time.

    “A witch was sorely hurt by his words, and the Young Master did not yet understand the consequences of the speech that crossed his lips,” Lumiere said. “This curse shall endure until he learns how to love as deeply as he is loved by his people.” 

    Belladonna replied, “Then just use a love potion.”

    Her brilliant idea was met with a shake of the head from Cogsworth, the wise mantel clock.    “A love potion? With all due respect, My Lady, if such magic truly existed within these walls, the Young Master would surely have sought a way to resolve this matter. And we should have been delivered from this plight long ago.”

    Well, no matter. Belladonna would find another way.

    Unfortunately, Belladonna’s plan to remain detached began to waver on the third night. The Beast returned from hunting in the forest, roaring and wounded. His movements were frantic, his eyes dark. For a moment, he lost his senses entirely, looking like nothing less than a wild animal. 

    The light in those blue eyes slowly returned when he saw Belladonna approach. Like magic, his fury vanished, replaced by silence. The Beast did not even resist when she insisted on cleaning his wounds.

    “You ought to hate me,” he said. “You ought to have fled, leaving me to lose my wits and be hunted by the villagers.”

    Belladonna stopped abruptly, never expecting the day would come when the Beast would begin to open up.

    “Your Highness, I'm staying because I don't want your servants to get hurt.” Belladonna gently patted the bandage, slowly looking up at the tragic figure. “Besides, you would've done the same for me. That's just what humans do, isn't it?”

***

    From that day onward, the Beast no longer snarled. Mealtimes became pleasant, and stories were shared. Whenever Belladonna was found lost in thought, he would show her a field of wildflowers deep within the forest behind the castle.

    Whenever the Beast was lost in contemplation over the enchanted rose, she would appear with a book from the library. “Can I take this one to the field today?”

    The Beast glanced at it. “There are thousands of books in the library, yet you have chosen the most tedious one of all.”

    “Oh, come on.”

    And he allowed it.

    Belladonna took the book to the midst of the sea of wildflowers. Together with the Beast, she enjoyed the treats prepared by Mrs. Potts beneath the warm sunshine.

    A harsh reality returned when Lumiere and Cogsworth reported, “The rose petals continue to diminish, My Lady. Could this perhaps be the reason the Young Master is losing his mind?” 

    That question was answered by the Beast’s random rampages over the following days. His consciousness, which once could be restored with a mere exchange of glances, now had to be coaxed at close proximity or with a cautious touch that risked her very life.

    On the tenth night, Belladonna was waiting for the Beast in the dining hall when a thunderous roar and the sound of crashing objects echoed from afar. Lumiere went to check on the prince in his private chambers in the west wing, returning alone with a frightened face. The commotion could still be faintly heard.

    Belladonna grew anxious. “Did something happen? Why isn’t he joining us to eat?”

    “The Young Master… has lost control once more,” Lumiere whispered. “My Lady, but two petals remain.” 

    Mrs. Potts gasped, and Cogsworth murmured, “Good heavens.…”

    THUD! THUD! 

    At that exact moment, a violent pounding shook the silence of the castle. 

    THUD! THUD!

    Cogsworth approached the window. Aghast, he cried out, “Oh, dear! The villagers mean to hunt us down! They are battering the main doors with a giant log! A burly fellow leads the crowd, and a long musket rests upon his back!” 

    With swift agility, Belladonna tied back her long brown hair with a napkin. She then turned to face the living objects—the cursed servants of the castle. 

    “I won’t forbid you from doing anything. Therefore, protect this castle with all your might.” Belladonna spoke resolutely. In her heart, she swore she would finish this quickly and return to her world. “My only order is this: don’t let anyone get near the west wing.” 

    The villagers stormed in, and a battle erupted. 

    Belladonna ran to the west wing staircase, heading for the Beast's private chamber. She had just reached the landing of the staircase when a loud BANG! and a sharp CRASH! rang out.   

    Her cheek stung. Blood trickled down. A flower vase on the landing shattered into pieces. 

    As she turned, she found herself staring down the barrel of Gaston’s musket from the bottom of the stairs.

    “Look who it is. My beautiful Belladonna.” Gaston, the hunter, grinned broadly. “I shall take you away with me once this accursed castle is razed to the ground.” 

    As the musket was cocked once more, the Beast arrived with a roar.

***

That night, the universe witnessed a tragedy.

    In the west wing, the enchanted rose dropped a petal. Now, only one remained, threatening to fall at any moment. At the top of the stairs, shots were fired, and empty shells scattered across the floor. The sound of splashing blood clashed with the agonizing howls of the Beast. The villain perished at the hands of the Beast; with one wrathful swipe of claws, Gaston's soul fled into the abyss. The villagers shrieked, fleeing the castle in terror, leaving their weapons behind. 

    The Beast, the cursed prince, now lay dying in a pool of blood. 

    Belladonna knelt near him. Her face was as pale as moonlight. She was afraid she would not be able to do anything—to save him, to return home. 

    She whispered softly, “What will happen if the last petal falls tonight?”

    The Beast replied, “Then my wits shall perish, and you shall die.” After a pause, he asked in return, “Do you think me worthy of love?”

    Belladonna did not answer. She did not know the answer.

    After all, that feeling had never been there to begin with.

    In the west wing, the final petal slowly fell.

    The magic vanished; the enchantment ended.

    At the top of the stairs, the Beast closed his eyes. The entire castle mourned, but nothing moved anymore. The candelabra lost his flame. The clock lost his tick. The teapot lost her balance.

    Belladonna was left entirely alone.

    Silence.

    Cold.

    Scented with roses and blood.

    That night, once again, the universe witnessed a tragedy.

    The Beast stirred once more, growling as he opened his eyes. However, the beautiful blue eyes the woman had known for the past ten days were gone. He had transformed. He had not changed back into a prince; rather, he had become a monster entirely.

    Their final conversation echoed back into her mind.

    “What will happen if the last petal falls tonight?”

    “Then my wits shall perish, and you shall die.”

***

    Belladonna scrambled to her feet and fled outside. Her legs carried her as far into the forest behind the castle as possible.

    She pushed through the trees with all her might until her legs went numb. Adrenaline numbed the pain of every scratch. Suddenly, she stumbled into the open field of wildflowers. Her heart hammered, her head throbbed, and she was on the verge of despair beneath the light of the full moon. 

    The Beast managed to catch up, standing in dead silence, staring intently like a marking its final prey. Belladonna braced herself to die right then and there.

    The Beast lunged.

    Belladonna squeezed her eyes shut.

    But the strike never came.

    Belladonna opened her eyes, timidly, almost unable to believe it.

    The Beast had stopped right in front of her. His pupils slowly dilated. His nostrils flared, sniffing the thin veil of air between them. There was something in those blue eyes: familiarity.

    It was as though, deep down, the Beast recognized what and who stood before him.

    Cautiously, Belladonna raised a hand. Her heart ached as the Beast flinched warily for a second, only to close the distance and lean his head against her palm the next.

    From the shadows of the trees, a woman in a long cloak emerged with a smile. Her eyes were stark white, vacant, and glowing. “None would ever think that this creature is the very same beast that slew the hunter.”

    The Beast turned and growled, which was more than enough to arouse Belladonna’s suspicion. “The Witch…?”

    The woman nodded solemnly. “Good evening, Lady Traveler. I see you have saved him.”

    “I don't think I have.”

    “His heart, at the very least.” The Witch murmured thoughtfully. “For were it not so, you would surely be torn to pieces by now.”

    Belladonna looked pityingly at the creature resting peacefully beneath her gentle stroke. “If his heart really is saved, then why did he let the curse consume him? If he wanted to atone for his sins, why did he have to drag innocent people—his servants—down with him?”

    “You question too much for someone who has stayed but ten nights. Have you not read my letter? Your task was merely to stay by his side, and allow the prince to choose his own fate. Well done.”

    Belladonna stared at the massive creature before her, torn between doubt and worry. “Do I have to leave him here? Is he going to be okay?”

    “Do you wish to abandon your other responsibilities?” The Witch smiled as Belladonna froze. “Go forth, Lady Traveler. The rest of the prince’s fate shall be his own burden to bear. At the very least, he still knows those he holds dear—the candelabra, the teapot, the clock, and even you, a newcomer.”

    With a heavy heart, Belladonna finally prepared to return home.

    She untied the napkin from her hair and placed it gently over the Beast’s paw. She stroked the monster one last time, embracing him for the first and final time, just as a wave of sleepiness slowly washed over her.

    “Stay alive,” she whispered.

    For you.

    And for me.

***

When Belladonna woke up, the first things that greeted her were a white ceiling and glaring lights.

    This was immediately followed by the familiar ringtone of an incoming call.

    “Dr. Brooks, the operating room is ready.”

Ah.

    She was truly back.

And now, she had one more important duty to fulfill.[]