Peter, his three daughters, and two sons in law, lived on a small horse ranch bordered on three sides by an old growth forest. They had once lived in the city, but a change in their fortunes brought them to this place just outside the small town of Bramble. Violet, the youngest daughter, and her husband Stephen lived in what had been the bunkhouse. Daisy, the middle daughter, and her husband Gabe, lived in a converted outbuilding. Lilly, the oldest daughter, still lived in the main house with Peter.
Violet, though not intentionally mean, was rather dismissive of the rest of the family. She was the most beautiful of the sisters with coal black hair tumbling in perfect ringlets to just below her shoulders. Her eyes were the exact shade of her namesake flower. She was barely over five feet tall but her body was perfectly proportioned. Her waist was tiny, her hips were gently flared and her breasts were just slightly more than her husband could take into his mouth. Her bottom lip was a little fuller than its mate, seeming to pout. She was accomplished at everyday household tasks such as cooking, cleaning, and mending, but she never set foot outside if she could help it. Whatever her faults, her husband adored her. Every spare cent from their share of the ranch's profits he spent buying her some little bauble or trinket just to see her face light up with pleasure.
Daisy was as pretty as her name with light golden blond hair that fell in a smooth waterfall to her waist when she took it down to wash and brush it. Normally though, she kept in on two long braids wrapped like a crown around her head. Her eyes were the clear blue of a spring sky and her nose had a faint dusting of freckles. Her mouth was almost too wide for her oval face but she always seemed to be smiling. She was even more accomplished at housekeeping chores than Violet and kept both her and her father's homes spotless. She had a willowy figure. She was a few inches taller than her younger sister but her hips were more slender and her breasts were so small as to not need a corset. She and Gabe and been married since the day she turned eighteen, six years ago, but despite trying to have children they had resigned themselves to caring for their horses, dogs, and cats as substitutes.
Lilly was prettier than Daisy and didn't like staying indoors much. Only if the weather was horrible and she could curl up in her favorite chair by the fire with a good gothic novel did she ever enjoy being inside. Her hair was a glossy brown with subtle coppery highlights but instead of perfect ringlets or tame smoothness, it was uncontrollably wavy. Though, thankfully, it didn't often get very tangled, she had no idea what to do with it. It fell down her back and teased her hips when it was loose but she usually just tied it up in a tail and braided it. She liked to wear a vest over her shirt and kept her braid under the vest so it wouldn't get in the way of her chores. Her eyes were some indeterminate shade of either green, blue, or grey, depending on what mood she was in or what color shirt she was wearing. Her figure was what Daisy called 'generous' and what Violet called 'plump.' Her hips, while not overly wide, were just a little curvier than the average village woman's. Her belly required a corset to make it flat and her breasts, though not huge, overfilled her hands when she cupped them, and her hands were large for a woman's.
Peter was a loving father to all five of the younger people living with him. His health had been failing for years so he wasn't able to do the farm work like he used to. Daisy took care of him during the day while Lilly took over his share of the chores. These were usually helping the three hired girls from the village in the garden or gathering firewood from the fringes of the forest. The village girls were so uneasy about going into the woods, even by a few feet, that after a few weeks into every winter Lilly just told them to push the hand cart she would load from a couple of yards out of the trees back to the house. She loaded her horse's cart herself. This task usually took all day and had to be done every three or four days. Her brothers in law were too busy taking care of their dozen Morgan horses to also do all of the ordinary chores.
The village girls told Lilly that a Beast lived in a castle in the middle of the forest. They could never agree on what this Beast looked like. Some said he resembled a bull, some said a boar, some said a wolf, some said a wild cat. They all agreed he must have a ravenous appetite because hunters had never been able to find any game in his woods, not even such small things as birds or rabbits. They also agreed that the Beast must be immortal. Their grandfathers had told them tales of him and their grandfather's grandfathers had in turn been the ones to tell them. It was speculated that the Beast may have been a man once but if so it had been so long that his beast's nature had surely taken over the man's.
Lilly wasn't one to believe in tales but something about the towering black pine and fir trees sent shivers racing up her spine and gooseflesh springing up on her arms. She was always careful to keep the farmhouse in sight when she gathered deadfall for firewood.
The first day of August dawned like any other. Lilly was up before dawn and out the door as the first rays of the sun lightened the eastern sky. Daisy was going into the house as Lilly was leaving. She would make breakfast for the family. Lilly had just finished cleaning her stallion's stall when she heard Daisy scream. She dropped everything and ran back to the house. Gabe, Stephen, and even Violet were also running. Being closest and not hampered by long skirts, Lilly was first to burst in the kitchen door.
"Daisy!" she called out.
"In here," came the barely audible reply. Her voice came from the direction of their father's bedroom.
"What's wrong?" Lilly asked as she hurried down the hall and into Peter's room. What she saw made her stop in her tracks. She vaguely heard Gabe call out for Daisy. Daisy ran into his arms weeping, giving Lilly a clearer view of Peter's bed. She walked dazedly toward the still figure that had once been her father. Stephen and Violet arrived just then. Violet took one glimpse and let out a wail of grief.
Peter was lying on his back with his hands folded carefully across his chest. He almost looked like he was posing except that his chest didn't rise or fall with breathing. His face, while serene, was an ashy grey. When Lilly reached out to touch his hand, it was ice cold and stiff. She turned to the rest of her family.
"We need to call the minister," she said. Violet and Daisy just huddled in their husband's arms and sobbed. Stephen and Gabe were fully occupied by their wives so Lilly went to the study herself to use the rotary phone Peter had gotten a year ago. He'd been so proud the day he brought it home. The phone company had laid the lines to their house just the week before. They were one of only a handful of families in or around the village that had a phone. Thankfully, the minister was one of the few who had one so Lilly didn't have to call a neighbor and wait while they fetched the minister and he called her back.
