Beauty and the Beast Within (Teaser/Preview)
Note: This is meant to be a 'preview' of a story I'm considering working on. The purpose of this 'trailer' (I'm calling it that because it's going to be written in a style similar to a script, at least for this snippet) is to see what the reception will be like. Comments, questions, concerns, and advice are always welcome!
The Beauty and the Beast Within
"Teaser Trailer" by Zack C. aka: FenrirXIII
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Note: This is meant to be a 'preview' of a story I'm considering working on. The purpose of this 'trailer' (I'm calling it that because it's going to be written in a style similar to a script, at least for this snippet) is to see what the reception will be like. Comments, questions, concerns, and advice are always welcome!
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(The scene opens with the view of an idyllic forest. Beautiful emerald green grass and bushes cluster around tall oak, pine, and birch trees. Against one tree the viewer sees the hem of a deep blue skirt, a simple brown shoe idly twitching back and forth as the camera approaches)
Bell: This is a tale as old as time.
(The camera rounds the tree to see her intently focused on her book. The cover is mostly obscured with her hand, only the words "On" are visible. Her forehead furrows, and she looks up, her intense brown eyes meeting the viewers as the scene changes.)
Bell: This is a tale about a beauty; A tale about a beast. A tale of an enchanted castle and a deep, dark forest.
(The camera speeds along. The forest is no longer idyllic and peaceful. The trees are now black and forbidding, the grass and shrubs tough, spiny and dead. The well-worn dirt paths are now cracked cobblestone, dark black scrub pushing up through the cracks. The path winds forwards, through a set of blackened wrought iron gates, flanked with horrific gargoyles with mouths full of fangs. A storm is brewing, lightning and thunder boom and the light plays along the faces of the statues scattered about the courtyard, features locked in fear, in rage, in sorrow.)
Bell: It is a story about a people cursed, of arrogance, and of love.
(The doors open to the camera. The castle is all dark stone and blood red tapestries, two lines of armor suits, their weapons out in the typical 'honor guard' style, forming an impromptu arch at the end of which lies a man sitting on a throne. His hair is black as a crow, his skin pale white, and his hands are clasped in front of his face, hiding all but the edges of his eyes from the viewer.)
Bell: But this is not a happy story.
(Darkness falls as the man looks up from his hands at the viewer. Lightning flashes and thunder booms, and his eyes are black as night all throughout, no pupils or iris visible. His mouth is twisted in a horrific grin, and his teeth are blood-red and needle sharp, far too many of them for any normal human mouth.)
Bell: This is not a story of redemption. This is not a story of true love conquering all. This is a story of a confused girl making all the wrong choices. At least it was supposed to be.
(The camera pulls a panoramic view of a dining table laden with colorful, succulent-looking foods. Berries and melons arranged fancifully, resembling flowers, boats of gravy, mashed potatoes, and innumerable vegetables, some of them un-recognizable, and a massive side of prime rib dominating the center.)
Bell: This is a story about the village of Beaumont, and the curse they suffer. Long ago these lands were owned by a cruel lord named Andre Vereaux, whose thirst for power and carnage led him to walk a dark path.
(As Bell speaks these next few lines, the camera moves throughout a small village. Guttering iron lamp-posts sit at the corners of the streets, their flickering light barely illuminating grey, cut-stone buildings with simple thatched roofs. The rain and lightning sheet down, and a few villagers rush as if to get out of the storm, with more than a few wary looks around)
Bell: His thirst for occult knowledge grew, and dark things began to infest the forest surrounding Beaumont. The villagers began disappearing, and soon feared to go outside. All this continued, until one day, a powerful magic was uncovered, which they used without hesitation to stop Vereaux. All his dark magic was sealed within the castle, and he was unable to leave the grounds without danger to himself, leaving him a prisoner in a castle whose attendants had long since fled. But, there was a cost. There is always a cost...
(The camera has reached a house on the outskirts of the village now, a single light amongst otherwise dark windows shining out. The viewer brushes aside the curtains to see an elderly man poring over books and laboriously sketching out notes and diagrams, his grey hair disheveled and his face drawn and lined with weariness. He too turns to look at the viewer, his bright, icy blue eyes piercing in their clarity.)
Bell: The magics would hold for five centuries: More than enough time for the tale of Vereaux and his cruelty to become superstitious myth outside the village. Now, as the time of Vereaux' imprisonment draws to a close, few now remember the horror that lies in the castle, most believing it to be a boogeyman story and little else. But the people of Beaumont remember, and still they refuse to go outside when all light has faded.
(Bell steps into the room next to her father, her words unintelligible but her tone concerned. Her father pats her on the shoulder and nods, but turns back to his notes and keeps writing. Bell shakes her head, looking sad, and places a blanket around his shoulders before leaving)
Bell: It is into this scene that my father and I come. My father is, for lack of a better term, a scholar, compiling tales of folklore and legend from around the country. Neither of us believed the rumor surrounding this place. Who would? But that would prove to be the height of our foolishness.
(The scenes change rapidly now. A warrior in leather swings a sword in a tight circle, surrounded by four men brandishing knives, his face hidden by a well-crafted iron helm. A group of villagers, led by Bell's father and the warrior previous, enter the castle, the heads of the suits of armor turning silently to watch them as they enter. The hunter kneeling of Vereaux' back, his sword a breath away from the man's throat, gleaming silver as he is screaming "Tell her!" so loudly his voice cracks. A horrifying, throaty scream tearing out of a chest with a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth, a bloodied hand and horrified face struggling to claw their way out as it snaps closed. Then the viewer sees gargoyles springing to life all along the castle, dark shapes already taking to the air. One flies directly at the screen, its mouth dripping blood as it opens, dropping the screen into darkness.)
Bell: Pity Beaumont, friend, and pity us. For now comes a tale of blood and horror, a tale of love and betrayal, and a tale of a Beauty, and a Beast.