Belle is a maid living in service of a handsome prince who she falls madly in love with. Jealous of all the other women and angry at his refusal to notice her she curses him and turns him into a hideous beast. For years they remain together in the c...
The festival lasted all night. People danced round and round the blazing bonfire their laughter rose and filled the night sky like a beautiful symphony. Even I joined them from time to time. I have learnt a new thing today: dancing in a dress is bloody difficult, almost impossible, or at least it is for me. If the fabric of your dress goes down to the floor it means the chances of it being caught under your shoe increases and if you are unlucky like I may or may not have been earlier you'll fall flat on your face and embarrass yourself. People might not laugh at you, but it doesn't stop that harsh blush from flooding your cheeks. That bright red that makes your face look sunburnt.
As the night carried on into the new day and- according to my calculations with the stars- midnight struck I made up a feeble excuse to leave. Normally at this time, I'm curled up in my bed fast asleep dreaming up my version of a perfect world, a perfect life where I'm either riding through a large field that goes on forever or I'm back home camping out in the woods with my father waiting for a deer that meets our standards to come to pass.
But, tonight I'm feeling adventurous. That might be the alcohol talking and the fact that it is way past my bedtime and I'm at the point where I'm tired but I don't care. All I want to do is explore.
Walking down the cobbled streets I stare up in wonder at the houses. I know that when the sun comes it will reveal how broken these houses are but the night disguises them. They look like small castles in a way. Small and simple castles. The more time I spend in this town the more excited I feel. The more I start to feel at peace and at home. Even more so than I did in my family place. With every step I take I take another one in my mind. Ones that are leading up to the firm conclusion that I want to stay here. I don't want to go to Paris. I don't want my life to be one where I'll have to hide who I am. I need to be free.
No matter what it- bam!
"Oh, God!" I scream but I'm not the only one. The deep voice of a man follows my exclamation.
The sound of something made of wood hitting the ground accompanied that of myself and another body connecting with the hard earth beneath us. Twisting my body around I frantically search for whoever I walked into while I was deep in thought A gasp slips past my lips when I see the bent-over figure of an old man. A tall man with saggy skin and wispy white hair that almost matches how pale he is.
"What the hell?" he groans. Reaching his hands out he tries to push himself up but his writs buckle under the pressure and he falls again.
Because of my massive feeling of guilt for having caused this man pain and because you know it's the right thing to do I rush over to him. "Here, monsieur, let me help you. It's the least I can do."
Like a stubborn mule unwilling to be pulled on his reigns the man attempts to push my outreaching hand away, but I manage to get my hand around his shoulder and pull him up.
"I didn't ask you to help me," he hisses.
"Well, you didn't ask for me to knock you down either. Guess you're getting a few things you didn't want today," I snap at him.
Before I can mentally scold myself for saying this to him smirks at me. I've never seen an old man smirk before. It's kind of gross.
"You must be the new girl everyone is talking about."
"How can you tell?"
"You've got fire in you, not many people here have that. And nobody speaks to me these days." They say I'm an old fart."
"Well, that's rude of them."
He picks up his cane and then turns to look at me with that smirk still on his lips. "They're right though."
"You seem to take pride in that."
"Don't got much else to be prideful about not since this." Moving some of his long hair to the side, I gasp when I see a long protruding scar that goes down the right side of his face and seems to go down to his chest.
"What happened? Or no I'm sorry I shou-"
"Walk with me. I'll tell you the story." Slowly he turns around and starts walking away. Not wanting to what else to do I briskly walk over to him and follow him to wherever. "I'm assuming they told you the story of the beast at the festival," he says without looking at me.
"Yes," I quickly respond.
"What did you think of it?"
"I think it is odd that they praise a made-up monster," I scoff.
I see his lips twisting again but this time it's not a smirk it's a scowl. "You think the beast is fake?"
"Of course I do. A monster like that just doesn't exist. At this point, I think that the warrior in the story was confused about what he saw and he was just over-"
"I did not make it up! I'm so sick of people saying that!!" he yells at me.
He walks a short distance away and sits on a step outside one of the houses.
I did not make it up.
I did not make it up.
My eyes widen to their full extent as I come to a shocking realization: it's him. The warrior from the story and I just said that right to his face.
Crossing my arms over my chest I walk closer to him. "Sorry, I just find it hard to believe. I've been hunting most of my life and I just don't know what beast they are talking about."
He took a few deep breaths before he leans back against the door to the house.
"I didn't understand it either. That day when I found the castle and I saw that... thing I thought I was dreaming. It's like you said there is no way a beast like that should exist but it was right there in front of me. Seven feet tall, covered in fur with these claws and those fangs. I did take my sword out and I did attack it that part of the story was right but I didn't kill it. That thing snapped my sword in half like it was made of the weakest material on earth and then it gave me this," he gestures to his scar," I half cracked back here and when I told people what happened they thought I was nuts. 'Gaston has lost it' they said. Le Fou was the only person who believed me. I never told him this when he was alive but I'm grateful for that."
"What kind of animal do you think it was?"
He shrugs. "No clue but I know where it probably came from."
"And where might that be?"
"Hell."
As much as I try not to I laugh. "You know how to tell a story don't you?" I chuckle but in a respectful way.
Smiling he stretches out his arms like an actor about to take a bow after a grand performance. "No one entertains like Gaston."
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So what do you think of Gaston? I knowhe'sdifferent from the movie but I wanted toshow what old age and years of trauma have done to him.
