(This story is written strictly for the free enjoyment of fans of the "Beauty and the Beast" television series. No copyright infringement is intended.)

A Journey to Dissolution

- by Angie

A lingering dissolution

- Samuel Becket

[Note: The book referred to in this story is in violation of a copyright and is being sold illegally through internet retailers. Profit, or lack of it, is no defense when action is taken against a copyright infringement. Under U.S legislation, this infringement can occur (including in electronic media) "even if no money changes hands." The law also specifies penalties of up to five years in prison and $250,000 in fines. The threshold for criminal liability exists, even where the infringer neither obtained nor expected to obtain anything of value for the infringement." (Source" Wikipedia).]

Vincent was about to enter the park culvert after one of his nights of quiet wandering, when he noticed something light-coloured resting against the bottom of the curved pipe, glinting in the mellow glow of the nearby park light. He reached down and picked up a small paperback novel. They had no such cheaply-bound books below, not in all the vast untidiness of Father’s Library.

Vincent was about to walk back a few steps to throw the book into the nearby park trash receptacle, when he glanced at the title. He felt his heart skip a beat. Instead, he put the book into an inside pocket of his cloak and continued his journey home to his chamber. Once there, he lit his brazier and a few candles and sat down in his big chair.

Vincent turned the book over in his hands and reluctantly opened it. His sixth sense was twitching. He sighed softly and began to read. He was a quick reader, and the book amateurishly written, but as he progressed, he felt a growing sense of violation. He looked at the author’s name again. He didn’t recognize it, but it was obviously an alias. That person had some intimate knowledge of his tunnel family. However, they had chosen to corrupt the characters of almost everyone he knew and twisted them to meet confusing mythical and mystical references, apparently to aid peculiar plot twists. The ending was happy, but the relief came chiefly from the fact the story was finally over, than for any neat wrapping up of the plot.

Vincent looked at the book again, and looked across the chamber, musingly. He could think of only one person who detested the folk below enough to write such a thing – and would leave it where they knew he would find it.

Mitch! Vincent had no idea which penal institution Mitch presently inhabited – he had never asked Catherine, the memory being bittersweet - but he supposed the man had access to some benefits of the outside world. A publisher seemed to be one of them.

There was only one thing to do. Vincent grasped the book in his strong hands and carefully and meticulously ripped the book apart, bit by bit, and fed it to the brazier. It gave him no little satisfaction to see the fire flare - and provide a little extra heat to his chamber in the process.

Then he went to bed, satisfied that he had rid his world of an unpleasantness.

END