October 27th, 2005
|12:56 am - On the roof...|
Wherever the captives all are now, they are bound tightly, and exposed. A cold wind blows, smelling of rain, as if they are out in the open. By now, the poison is wearing off...
Their vision will be dim for a few minutes, until it wears off entirely, and their mouths will be very dry.
October 22nd, 2005
After a quick change of clothes, Gaston stomped off into the woods with his bow and quiver, to start the hunt for the Tofu Beast. Perhaps killing something would help quell the white-hot rage burning in his chest from the humiliation the pathetic little man had put him through.
"Really, you should be thanking me."
"Thanking you? THANKING YOU?! With your wicked sorcery, you've made me weak!"
"Maybe you always were."
Maybe it would extinguish the fire burning in his eyes.
But the words stuck with him. Especially those that concerned...her.
"Talk and murder, that's all you are, anyone with half a brain can see it. Too bad you always go after the smart ones."
Belle. He wanted Belle, and the thought of her wanting that disgusting animal over him...well, it made him want to kill her. Just like he'd killed the Beast.
He could imagine beautiful, pale skin in his hands, as he choked her, he could imagine stabbing her, or beating her to death as he did the Beast. She was as much to blame as the monster was, after all. She had refused him, had turned him away, treated him like nothing--her, a mere woman, as if she had rights, as if she deserved to choose who she pleased.
Women were like dogs. When you couldn't train one right, it was better to put them to death.
As he walked, the forest grew more and more hazy and he heard strange whisperings.
"...run, they're coming for you, he's coming for you, run..."
"...I'm flying, but what if I fall, I don't want to fall..."
"...Oh my God, I'm naked and the whole class is staring...
He was frightened, certainly, but he kept on.
"You're imagining things, Gaston," he told himself. "That's all."
Not that he had much of an imagination to start with.
Then he stumbled into a clearing, where he saw a square imprint in the soil. He reached down and touched two fingers to it. Still warm. Perhaps this was the prey he was hunting for...even if it was strangely shaped.
He kept on, feet crunching quietly through the underbrush, and he saw, he saw the stars wheeling about as a man ran with a woman with the head of an ass through the trees, he saw a young man trapped in a goldfish bowl, pounding on the sides.
Everything that everyone had ever dreamed, starting to swarm in on him. He was right on the edge of the Dreaming. A tree bent down towards him and asked him a voice, a creaking dead-wood voice, "When is a window not a window?"
He fell backwards in alarm.
October 19th, 2005
|12:42 am - Gaston Is Ever So Manly...|
His Magnificent Manliness was preparing for the hunt out by the lake, making sure his bow was taut and erect and his arrows were long and pointy.
The Tofu Beast's (square) head would shortly be mounted on the wall of the bar.