Tale as Old as Time...

Bonjour!

Twenty-four year old Beau set off from his small home to the village once the sun rose over the horizon. Swinging his mother's basket from side to side, he inhaled the French countryside air deeply and smiled.

To him, nothing was prettier.

As he crossed the bridge that went over the brook, he scrutinized his village. It was rather small, and very close-knit. Absolutely no adventure. He brushed a stray stand of hair out of his face in exasperation.

"Little town...it's a quiet village. Every day, just like the one before." He paused at the beginning of the street, waiting for a moment, then shook his head. "Little town, full of little people...waking up to say..."

"Bonjour!" a man exclaimed, throwing open his window.

"Bonjour!" called his neighbor in response.

"Bonjour!"

"Bonjour!"

"Bonjour."

A redheaded man with a bushy beard and a starched white apron merrily trotted down the street, in his arms he held a tray piled high with warm bread.

Beau smiled a little and quietly said to himself, "There goes the baker with his tray like always, probably the same old bread and rolls to sell."

The baker handed a roll to a young woman and continued on his way. More people began coming out of their homes and into the street. Beau continued on his way as well, one destination in mind. "Every morning is the same since the morning that we came to this poor, provincial town-"

"Good morning, Beau!" the baker greeted. "Where're you off to?"

"The bookshop," he replied, eyes shining. "I just finished the most wonderful story. It's about a beanstalk and an ogre and-"

"That's nice," the baker interjected. "Maria! The baguettes. Hurry up!"

Beau walked away, shaking his head. These people didn't know what they were missing! He gently rubbed his fingers in the book's spine. At least Jack had adventures.

Hoping to get to the bookshop sooner, he hopped onto the back of a passing cart and watched the bustle of the villagers with their routines.

The cart turned a familiar corner, and Beau hopped off and into the shop. The kind old woman who ran the shop had a twinkle in her eyes. "Ah, Beau, there you are. Back so soon?"

The young man nodded. "Here's the book I borrowed," he said, handing it to her. His gaze shifted towards the bookshelves. "Got anything new?"

The bookshop owner shook her head. "Not since yesterday," she chuckled.

"That's alright," he shrugged and grabbed a thick book with a familiar worn spine. "I'll borrow this one."

The woman raised her eyebrows. "But, you've read it twice!"

He flashed a shy, goofy, childish grin. "It's my favorite. Far-off places, daring swordfights, and a princess in disguise!"

The elderly woman laughed at his excitement. "If you like it all that much, it's yours," she offered.

"No ma'am!" he exclaimed.

"I insist."

Beau could hardly believe it. "Why thank you, thank you very much!"

He nearly skipped out of the bookshop, unaware of the young ladies that had been watching him through the window, unaware of the gossiping townspeople, and opened his book.

There were many things he loved about books. Their smell, their soft leather covers, the crinkle of the pages...he could go on.

Mainly, they were his escape to a more exciting world.

In this little French town, nothing exciting happened, except a wedding or a birthday. None of these things particularly interested this young man. To him, nothing was better than having his 'nose stuck in a book' because there...he could be anything.

A prince saving a princess.

A prince being saved by a princess.

An all powerful sorcerer.

A soldier.

Any of these things were way more interesting than his boring village life.