ANNE AND THE BEAST
Fiction
by
Jillian Greenawalt
by
Jillian Greenawalt
A glimmer. A ripple. A slight disturbance across the stillness of The Lake of Shining Waters. That’s all it took to convince Anne that an ancient, lonely beast lived there. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement as she ran home to tell Marilla and Matthew of her discovery.
They’d both chuckled a bit and told her it was just her imagination. She expected the response from Marilla. But Matthew? He rarely, if ever, dismissed her fancies in quite the same way as his sister. Anne had come to depend on him for his kindred patience and quietness when she waxed on and on about the mirth in her mind. Also, she’d seen the look that passed between them, just a brief moment before the joint chuckling. They knew; Anne wasn’t wrong.
Anne started to spend more time under the birch trees surrounding The Lake of Shining Waters in hopes of a glimpse of the beast. It helped that it was late spring, and the meadow beyond was filled with the merry buzzing of freshly wakened bees amongst the violets and sweet grass and lupin and snowdrops. As Anne leaned lazily against a birch’s trunk and listened to the flowers talk amongst themselves, she realized just how strong the magic was in this tiny coppice along the side of the road.
On the tenth afternoon she’d spent waiting for something monumental to happen, she fell asleep. The sun was just right, a warm blanket against the light breeze, up in the blissfully blue sky. Just before she fell into her dream world, she issued up a prayer to the dryad of the birch above her, asking it to please wake her in the event of the beast showing itself.
She awoke with a start as a clap of thunder overhead shuddered the ground under her body. Anne rubbed her eyes and scrambled to her feet. The sky was dark now, with black clouds hanging low overhead, about to pause atop her birch tree for a respite. The wind howled around her, whipping loose bits of hair across her face and forcing the meadow beyond to bend under the weight of the wind. She was not filled with fear or dread, but a bubbling expectation. Looking in the direction of home, she saw the sun shining down where Green Gables sat, and her heart lifted and stilled at the thought of home.
A flash of light brought her attention back to The Lake of Shining Waters, which appeared to be the epicenter of the storm. The still waters were transformed into tiny waves; a laugh to anyone looking at the shore of this tiny island, but significant, to be sure, in this pond. Anne’s gray eyes shone with intrigue as tiny peaks like stiffly whipped cream splashed the edge of the pond, originating from the middle of the lake.
From the center of the ripples rose a glossy black lump, a thing which greatly stood out amongst the pointed waves. As Anne watched, the rounded lump grew in height and width until her neck ached from looking so far above her. Finally, it started to sink back into The Lake of Shining Waters, and as it did, a second spiky lump rose up. A head.
“Great Jehoshaphat!” Anne whispered under her breath. While the impulse to scream was high, she wished not to attract the attention of this tremendously giant beast. She looked at its eyes, gold like a summer sunset, and saw she was, in fact, correct. It was a lonely beast, trapped in a space much too small for its own comfort. Anne saw the spikes along its head, but they did not inspire fear.
The beast tilted its head up, let out one anguished roar with the next clap of thunder, then sank back down into the depths. The waters churned even more as it disappeared below the surface, until they splashed Anne’s dress and feet, which had unwittingly brought her closer to the lake’s edge.
Anne’s shoes squeaked as she ran home. She flew through the door into the kitchen, and there sat Marilla snapping green beans into a pot. Marilla cut her eyes to Anne, looked her up and down, and sighed, “I’m not even going to ask. You’d better get dry clothes on before you catch cold.” Anne bit her tongue to keep from exploding with excitement. She knew Marilla wouldn’t listen to her now; her appearance was too distracting.
As Anne turned, cringing at the puddle she left on the kitchen floor, the door creaked open and Matthew’s slow, calm voice sounded excited in a way Anne had never heard before. She whipped her head around to see him, long red braids slapping her cheeks. Matthew stood in the doorway dripping, panting, and whispering frantically to Marilla. Marilla, who refused to stir for Anne, was on her feet untying her apron and heading out the door.
The words, “Wait!” were on the tip of Anne’s tongue as the kitchen door slammed behind them. It took less than a millisecond for Anne to decide to follow.
In the morning, Anne was sure to be up before the sun so she could follow Matthew on his routine of chores before breakfast. She’d learned to milk the cow and feed the hens, but whatever else Matthew did as he walked along the fields and vale, she had not known until now.
“Good morning, Anne.” Matthew smiled as he greeted her. He was propping up a fence gate which he would have to rebuild later this week.
“Good morning, Matthew. Isn’t it a glorious morning? The fairies have a resplendent breakfast of dew before them.” Anne sighed as they walked on. It was a foggy morning on the island, the kind where the fog hovers above the ground, bringing a chill and a whisper of things to come. As they walked, Matthew sometimes paused to look at the fence, or wiggle a post, or look back at the path they’d traveled. Anne knew they were heading to The Lake of Shining Waters. She was bursting at the seams to ask a million questions, but she didn’t want Matthew to turn her away. Though he never expressed frustration with her, she didn’t want to push her luck.
Mr. Barry greeted them beside his pond. Sometimes Anne forgot it really was Barry’s Pond and not The Lake of Shining Waters. Behind him was a horse with a cart of fish. Fish? thought Anne, how peculiar. Mr. Barry and Matthew spoke in low tones Anne couldn’t make out. Rather than study them, making them both uncomfortable, she stood at the edge of the water and stared at its glassiness, trying to conjure the images from the day before.
As her heart started to race at the remembrance of the height of the creature, the two men stirred behind her. Anne turned around and slapped her hand over her mouth to cover the laugh trying to burst forth. Matthew was wearing a peculiar black suit, much like a fisherman’s coat and pants, but he also wore a bizarre mask with a tube coming out of the side of it, and flippers on his feet!
Matthew waddled toward her, and stood at the edge with her. “I’ll be back shortly," he said in a nasally voice, his nose covered in black from the mask. Then he took a large step forward into the water. He bobbed for a minute, then sank down into the depths.
Anne’s mouth made a perfect ‘O’ as she watched, waiting for Matthew to reappear. When he did not after a couple minutes, she whipped her braids around to Mr. Barry, marched over, and demanded an explanation.
“Matthew’s the best with the beast. Probably because he’s so calm and mild-mannered. He’s checking on her, then he’ll be back, and we’ll throw in the fish from this cart.” Mr. Barry lit his pipe, calm as could be, as if a man had not just disappeared into a pond housing a giant beast.
For once, Anne had nothing to say. She stared at Mr. Barry as he smoked his pipe for several minutes before finding her voice again.
“Does it have a name?”
Mr. Barry smiled and rocked back and forth on his feet. This was more like Anne. “Aye, indeed she does. Her name is Bessy.”
Indignation flashed across Anne’s face. “You’ve named this majestic, magical beast a cow’s name? Why on earth!” She blustered a bit, then walked back to the water to think.
Mr. Barry heard her mumbling to herself as she tried various names for the beast. She started with her normal flower names, but they all seemed too frail for such a sturdy beast. Then she tried various fairy and dryad names, but again, none of them contained the strength and dignity the golden-eyed beast demanded. Anne paced around the edge of the lake, hands clasped behind her back, anxiously awaiting Matthew’s arrival to the surface and trying to name the beast.
“I’ve got it!” she said as she finished the loop and made her way to Mr. Barry. Her gray eyes shimmered and looked silvery in the low light of morning. “The beast is to be named my favorite of all names: Cordelia. It is strong. It is a star. And heaven knows it needs a good home.”
Mr. Barry didn’t say a word, just nodded at her with the same seriousness with which she gazed at him. Behind her, he could see bubbles rising to the surface. He pointed his pipe at the pond, grateful for the distraction, and Anne turned and ran to the edge to watch Matthew emerge from the deep. “Oh, Matthew!” Anne squeaked.
Once Matthew sat in the grass, flippers and mask off, he started to talk. “She looks fine, a bit pent up maybe. This is the third time in two weeks …” His voice trailed off as the familiar lump of shiny black appeared in the pond, rising up to greet the day. “We’d better feed her.” And feed her they did. Anne pitched in to throw slimy and scaly fish into the water.
As the two walked back to Green Gables, Anne noted that the sun was still low in the sky; it had felt like they were at The Lake of Shining Waters for hours, and yet it had been less than three quarters of an hour. She came to the only conclusion one could come to -- that coppice of birch trees was in fact magical.
“Why is Cordelia in Mr. Barry’s pond? How long has she been there? Why are you the one to go in the water with her? Does Marilla know? How do you stay down so long? What’s it like? What is the beast like? Were you scared?” The questions continued until they arrived back at the barn, where Anne’s cow mooed at her, demanding to be milked.
“Child, that is a lot of questions. You do your chores and we’ll talk later. But yes, Marilla knows. She didn’t think you were ready to hear it, but then like most things, you went and did it your own way.” Matthew sighed. “We’ve been the keepers of the beast for ages now. It may be Barry’s Pond, but Cordelia, as you call her, is ours.”
Matthew went into Green Gables to start on his breakfast, leaving Anne speechless in the entrance to the barn holding her milk pail. Once again, she felt like she couldn’t have found a more perfect home on her own if she tried.
They’d both chuckled a bit and told her it was just her imagination. She expected the response from Marilla. But Matthew? He rarely, if ever, dismissed her fancies in quite the same way as his sister. Anne had come to depend on him for his kindred patience and quietness when she waxed on and on about the mirth in her mind. Also, she’d seen the look that passed between them, just a brief moment before the joint chuckling. They knew; Anne wasn’t wrong.
Anne started to spend more time under the birch trees surrounding The Lake of Shining Waters in hopes of a glimpse of the beast. It helped that it was late spring, and the meadow beyond was filled with the merry buzzing of freshly wakened bees amongst the violets and sweet grass and lupin and snowdrops. As Anne leaned lazily against a birch’s trunk and listened to the flowers talk amongst themselves, she realized just how strong the magic was in this tiny coppice along the side of the road.
On the tenth afternoon she’d spent waiting for something monumental to happen, she fell asleep. The sun was just right, a warm blanket against the light breeze, up in the blissfully blue sky. Just before she fell into her dream world, she issued up a prayer to the dryad of the birch above her, asking it to please wake her in the event of the beast showing itself.
She awoke with a start as a clap of thunder overhead shuddered the ground under her body. Anne rubbed her eyes and scrambled to her feet. The sky was dark now, with black clouds hanging low overhead, about to pause atop her birch tree for a respite. The wind howled around her, whipping loose bits of hair across her face and forcing the meadow beyond to bend under the weight of the wind. She was not filled with fear or dread, but a bubbling expectation. Looking in the direction of home, she saw the sun shining down where Green Gables sat, and her heart lifted and stilled at the thought of home.
A flash of light brought her attention back to The Lake of Shining Waters, which appeared to be the epicenter of the storm. The still waters were transformed into tiny waves; a laugh to anyone looking at the shore of this tiny island, but significant, to be sure, in this pond. Anne’s gray eyes shone with intrigue as tiny peaks like stiffly whipped cream splashed the edge of the pond, originating from the middle of the lake.
From the center of the ripples rose a glossy black lump, a thing which greatly stood out amongst the pointed waves. As Anne watched, the rounded lump grew in height and width until her neck ached from looking so far above her. Finally, it started to sink back into The Lake of Shining Waters, and as it did, a second spiky lump rose up. A head.
“Great Jehoshaphat!” Anne whispered under her breath. While the impulse to scream was high, she wished not to attract the attention of this tremendously giant beast. She looked at its eyes, gold like a summer sunset, and saw she was, in fact, correct. It was a lonely beast, trapped in a space much too small for its own comfort. Anne saw the spikes along its head, but they did not inspire fear.
The beast tilted its head up, let out one anguished roar with the next clap of thunder, then sank back down into the depths. The waters churned even more as it disappeared below the surface, until they splashed Anne’s dress and feet, which had unwittingly brought her closer to the lake’s edge.
Anne’s shoes squeaked as she ran home. She flew through the door into the kitchen, and there sat Marilla snapping green beans into a pot. Marilla cut her eyes to Anne, looked her up and down, and sighed, “I’m not even going to ask. You’d better get dry clothes on before you catch cold.” Anne bit her tongue to keep from exploding with excitement. She knew Marilla wouldn’t listen to her now; her appearance was too distracting.
As Anne turned, cringing at the puddle she left on the kitchen floor, the door creaked open and Matthew’s slow, calm voice sounded excited in a way Anne had never heard before. She whipped her head around to see him, long red braids slapping her cheeks. Matthew stood in the doorway dripping, panting, and whispering frantically to Marilla. Marilla, who refused to stir for Anne, was on her feet untying her apron and heading out the door.
The words, “Wait!” were on the tip of Anne’s tongue as the kitchen door slammed behind them. It took less than a millisecond for Anne to decide to follow.
In the morning, Anne was sure to be up before the sun so she could follow Matthew on his routine of chores before breakfast. She’d learned to milk the cow and feed the hens, but whatever else Matthew did as he walked along the fields and vale, she had not known until now.
“Good morning, Anne.” Matthew smiled as he greeted her. He was propping up a fence gate which he would have to rebuild later this week.
“Good morning, Matthew. Isn’t it a glorious morning? The fairies have a resplendent breakfast of dew before them.” Anne sighed as they walked on. It was a foggy morning on the island, the kind where the fog hovers above the ground, bringing a chill and a whisper of things to come. As they walked, Matthew sometimes paused to look at the fence, or wiggle a post, or look back at the path they’d traveled. Anne knew they were heading to The Lake of Shining Waters. She was bursting at the seams to ask a million questions, but she didn’t want Matthew to turn her away. Though he never expressed frustration with her, she didn’t want to push her luck.
Mr. Barry greeted them beside his pond. Sometimes Anne forgot it really was Barry’s Pond and not The Lake of Shining Waters. Behind him was a horse with a cart of fish. Fish? thought Anne, how peculiar. Mr. Barry and Matthew spoke in low tones Anne couldn’t make out. Rather than study them, making them both uncomfortable, she stood at the edge of the water and stared at its glassiness, trying to conjure the images from the day before.
As her heart started to race at the remembrance of the height of the creature, the two men stirred behind her. Anne turned around and slapped her hand over her mouth to cover the laugh trying to burst forth. Matthew was wearing a peculiar black suit, much like a fisherman’s coat and pants, but he also wore a bizarre mask with a tube coming out of the side of it, and flippers on his feet!
Matthew waddled toward her, and stood at the edge with her. “I’ll be back shortly," he said in a nasally voice, his nose covered in black from the mask. Then he took a large step forward into the water. He bobbed for a minute, then sank down into the depths.
Anne’s mouth made a perfect ‘O’ as she watched, waiting for Matthew to reappear. When he did not after a couple minutes, she whipped her braids around to Mr. Barry, marched over, and demanded an explanation.
“Matthew’s the best with the beast. Probably because he’s so calm and mild-mannered. He’s checking on her, then he’ll be back, and we’ll throw in the fish from this cart.” Mr. Barry lit his pipe, calm as could be, as if a man had not just disappeared into a pond housing a giant beast.
For once, Anne had nothing to say. She stared at Mr. Barry as he smoked his pipe for several minutes before finding her voice again.
“Does it have a name?”
Mr. Barry smiled and rocked back and forth on his feet. This was more like Anne. “Aye, indeed she does. Her name is Bessy.”
Indignation flashed across Anne’s face. “You’ve named this majestic, magical beast a cow’s name? Why on earth!” She blustered a bit, then walked back to the water to think.
Mr. Barry heard her mumbling to herself as she tried various names for the beast. She started with her normal flower names, but they all seemed too frail for such a sturdy beast. Then she tried various fairy and dryad names, but again, none of them contained the strength and dignity the golden-eyed beast demanded. Anne paced around the edge of the lake, hands clasped behind her back, anxiously awaiting Matthew’s arrival to the surface and trying to name the beast.
“I’ve got it!” she said as she finished the loop and made her way to Mr. Barry. Her gray eyes shimmered and looked silvery in the low light of morning. “The beast is to be named my favorite of all names: Cordelia. It is strong. It is a star. And heaven knows it needs a good home.”
Mr. Barry didn’t say a word, just nodded at her with the same seriousness with which she gazed at him. Behind her, he could see bubbles rising to the surface. He pointed his pipe at the pond, grateful for the distraction, and Anne turned and ran to the edge to watch Matthew emerge from the deep. “Oh, Matthew!” Anne squeaked.
Once Matthew sat in the grass, flippers and mask off, he started to talk. “She looks fine, a bit pent up maybe. This is the third time in two weeks …” His voice trailed off as the familiar lump of shiny black appeared in the pond, rising up to greet the day. “We’d better feed her.” And feed her they did. Anne pitched in to throw slimy and scaly fish into the water.
As the two walked back to Green Gables, Anne noted that the sun was still low in the sky; it had felt like they were at The Lake of Shining Waters for hours, and yet it had been less than three quarters of an hour. She came to the only conclusion one could come to -- that coppice of birch trees was in fact magical.
“Why is Cordelia in Mr. Barry’s pond? How long has she been there? Why are you the one to go in the water with her? Does Marilla know? How do you stay down so long? What’s it like? What is the beast like? Were you scared?” The questions continued until they arrived back at the barn, where Anne’s cow mooed at her, demanding to be milked.
“Child, that is a lot of questions. You do your chores and we’ll talk later. But yes, Marilla knows. She didn’t think you were ready to hear it, but then like most things, you went and did it your own way.” Matthew sighed. “We’ve been the keepers of the beast for ages now. It may be Barry’s Pond, but Cordelia, as you call her, is ours.”
Matthew went into Green Gables to start on his breakfast, leaving Anne speechless in the entrance to the barn holding her milk pail. Once again, she felt like she couldn’t have found a more perfect home on her own if she tried.
Jillian Greenawalt lives along the shore of Lake Ontario where she dreams of creatures below the surface. Her short story, "Philip's Plight" received an honorable mention in Women on Writing's quarterly flash fiction contest in spring 2019. She is currently revising her first novel.
Author statement: Anne opened up a whole world of possibility to me when I was young. Revisiting her now, as an adult, floods me with hope.
Author statement: Anne opened up a whole world of possibility to me when I was young. Revisiting her now, as an adult, floods me with hope.
