By Alex Flinn
I'm a beast. A beast. no longer rather wolf or endure, gorilla or puppy yet a terrible new creature who walks upright—a creature with fangs and claws and hair springing from each pore. i'm a monster. you think that i am conversing fairy stories? No approach. where is long island urban. The time is now. it truly is no deformity, no disorder. And i will remain this fashion forever—ruined—unless i will be able to holiday the spell. convinced, the spell, the single the witch in my English category forged on me. Why did she flip me right into a beast who hides via day and prowls through evening? i'm going to let you know. i'm going to let you know how i was Kyle Kingsbury, the fellow you needed you have been, with funds, ideal seems to be, and the suitable existence. after which, i will inform you how I turned completely . . . beastly.
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Additional resources for Beastly
SILENTMAID: No, you didn’t. You didn’t have to. BeastNYC: Fine. OK fine. It hurts 2 much so i don’t want 2 talk about it. Boohoohoo. Everyone happy? Can we talk about someone else now? SILENTMAID: Sorrrreee! PART TWO The Beast ONE I was a beast. I stared into the mirror. I was an animal—not quite wolf or bear or gorilla or dog, but some horrible species that walked upright, that was almost human, yet not. Fangs grew from my mouth, my fingers were clawed, and hair grew from every pore. I, who’d looked down on people with zits or halitosis, was a monster.
But that wasn’t it, not really. It was just, like, sometimes I couldn’t help it. In the living room, the grandfather clock started to strike midnight. “You’re right,” the witch said, spreading her now ripped 39 arms. “You won’t do it again. In some countries, when a man steals, they cut off his hand. If a man rapes, he is castrated. ” The clock was still striking. Nine. Ten. The room was glowing and almost spinning. ” I looked at her hands, to see if she had a knife, if she was going to try and cut something off me.
I added a few swear words that she probably didn’t even understand. She stepped back from my hand. All the necklaces around her neck made a jingling sound. ” “Beautiful? It’s a rose. I said an orchid. Or-chid. ” She didn’t even react to stupid, which just showed how stupid she was. She’d only been there a few weeks, but she was even dumber than the last housekeeper, who got canned for putting her cheap red Wal-Mart T-shirt in with our laundry. Magda didn’t stop folding laundry, but stared at the rose, like she was high on something.