Beauty and the Beast

 CHAPTER 4

AN UNLIKELY PARTNERSHIP

 

Maurice trudged back to his village through thorny, overgrown pathways. 

This cannot be happening. It must just be a bad dream. 

He was in denial. He stumbled over a tree root protruding into the path that he could barely make out. He yelped in anger more than pain. Why is everything going wrong? I'm so old and weak, I can't protect myself let alone my precious child. 

He mumbled to himself for the next hour as he struggled to find his way home. He hoped the Beast would have mercy on his angel girl. 

He traipsed off the trail into muddy uncharted wilderness and could hear the scurrying of small animals, and the coo of an owl. He added to these white noises with soft depressive sobs of his own.

He finally made it back to his safe and calm village just as dawn lit the ground with dappled light. He fell to his knees with joy and released sobs of hope. 

They will help me get her back to safety! 

He knew he couldn't defeat the Beast himself, but with his townspeople they would have to be unstoppable.

He had no choice but to go home, since no one else in his quiet village was awake yet. 

Maurice collapsed on his couch and didn't wake up until late that afternoon. Groggily, he blinked his eyes open. Disoriented, it took him a moment to understand where he was. He shot up and started pacing to the thoughts that flooded his mind.

"Belle! Belle!" He called fruitlessly for his daughter. 

He dashed out his front door and hurried into town. He burst through the doors of the local pub and shouted, "Help!" hoping to cause a scene. The dozen soused people at the bar top looked at him with inquisitive eyes as they continued to sip their liquor. 

Disheveled and malnourished, Maurice limped inward. "He's got my daughter! He's got Belle!"

At the mention of Belle's name, Baxter turned from throwing darts to see what all the commotion was about. The dart he'd been holding whizzed centimeters past Berny's head before landing in Pete's leg. His yelp refocused most of the drunken crowd's attention, leaving Baxter and a few other bystanders interested in what Maurice had to say. For the brilliant and innovative man that he was, this small town didn't understand or care much for Maurice or his currently urgent plea.

"Who has Belle?" Baxter asked jealousy.

"A BEAST!" Maurice was dwarfed by Baxter's hulking body. His murky blue eyes were huge as he gaped up at him and threw his arm above his own head before he opened them wide.

Baxter scoffed. "A beast? Please, the only beast of a man worthy of Belle's beauty is moi!" He caught his reflection in a mirror on the wall and grinned. Then he went back to the dart board, stopping to retrieve the dart from Pete's leg where it was still lodged. 

At that Maurice considered Baxter in a way he never had before. He watched his toned body walk away from him, rippling muscles bulging under his tight-fitting clothes. He didn't feel intimidated by Baxter but knew Baxter could protect him and his gentle daughter. He squared his shoulders and approached the dart board.

“There is a monster out there in the woods who has Belle,” his voice in a hushed tone directly to Baxter. “But you could protect her.” He continued to flatter him with compliments on his strength and size and courage. “You are physically equal to Belle’s intellect and kindness. You complete each other.”

Baxter, intrigued and pleased that he'd won her father's approval, grinned a sly smile, “So you're giving me your daughter's hand if I rescue her from this beast?” 

How Could You?

How could YOU do this to me?

You.

My best friend.

The person I chose.

My partner.

How could you do this to ME?

Me.

Your family.

The person you chose.

Your best friend.

How could you do this to us?

 

Attributes

Here is a list of attributes I see in myself. If I am ever foolish enough to open my heart again this is the standard I expect from a partner.

• Loves God
• Kind
• Honest
• Attends the temple at least once a month (Temple worthy)
• Respectful of the feelings, time, and opinions of others
• Understanding
• Forgiving
• Loving
• Humble
• Able to apologize
• Patient
• Continually working on improving
• Smart
• Capable with hands
• Attractive, takes time on presenting themselves in a wholesome manner
• Can and will communicate

Now, a few things I have to say to my ex-fiancé.

I lied to you once. It was on my birthday when I turned 35. I told you I went to hang out with a friend, but actually I did a boudoir session. I had a book of the pictures made for you and it was going to be my gift to you, my groom, on our wedding day.

I can count the number of lies I've told you on one hand. Honesty is really important to me. It's something I strive to live up to. I was overly lenient with you when it came to honesty. I excused it due to it being an attribute of addiction, not you. I understand now that those things are a lot harder to separate than I had hoped.

Beauty and the Beast

 CHAPTER 3

AN UNEXPECTED ADVENTURE 

Two days later, they loaded their cart, hitched up Phillipe, and Maurice was off to the festival in hopes that the whole world would want automatic wood choppers. Belle waved goodbye until Maurice and Phillipe were out of sight. 

That first day alone passed quickly and quietly. She tended to washing clothes and scrubbed the floorboards. She swept out the fireplace and mucked out Phillipe’s stall. She fed the chickens and pulled some carrots. At the end of the day, she smiled as she lay her apron across the back of the wooden chair. Their little cottage was simple but homey and she was satisfied with her day’s work. She lit a lamp and read two more chapters before bed. 

The next morning after breakfast, Belle sat at the table reading when there was a knock on her front door. “Whoever could that be?” she muttered, quickly tying her hair back and tucking her book away. She looked out the window. “Baxter.” She groaned and rolled her eyes, but he had seen her through the window, so she opened the door just a crack. “Bonjour, Monsieur Baxter. Can I help you?”

“You certainly can.” He said as he pushed past her, tracking mud all over her freshly cleaned floor. “When we’re married, you will be able to clean up after me and our ten strapping boys, instead of living in this little dump with no one to notice you.”

Belle huffed. “Baxter! Get out. I told you I’m not going to marry you. I’m not staying in this tiny provincial town forever.”

“Why not? Have you never heard of being a big fish in a small pond? We’ll be the most important couple in town!”

“No, Baxter.” She tried to push him out the door. “I don’t need to be important. I told you, I want to have my own space and see all the wonderful places I’ve read about. She decided to go outside to feed the chickens. He followed her to the barn.

That’s one way to get him out of the house. Belle smirked to herself.

“Why are you always reading, anyway?” He grabbed the book sticking out of her apron pocket and flipped through it. “There aren’t even any pictures in here!”

Belle turned and walked around him, staring him in the face and getting herself between him and the house. She removed her book from his grubby paws with her thumb and forefinger. “I said, NO.” Then she backed through the door and locked him out.

“Ughhh!” Belle flounced into the chair, exasperated.

Twenty minutes later, she heard horse hooves approaching. “Oh no you don’t, Baxter!” Belle pulled the curtains closed and dragged the heavy wooden table in front of the door, but there was no knock this time. Instead, she heard heavy breathing, stamping and whinnying near the barn. She dared a peek out the back door. 

“Phillipe?!” She ran to him before she even thought of how to calm him down. He reared back, but she reached up and as soon as she touched his face, he took a deep breath . . . and then sprayed her with his horsey exhale. She led him to his trough to get a drink and detached the cart. She grabbed a brush and continued to stroke her beloved horse. “It’s all right, Phillipe. You’re so smart and brave to come home by yourself. Where’s Papa? You couldn’t have made it all the way to the exhibition and back by now.” She rested her head against his neck. “Can you take me to him?” 

Phillipe backed away from the trough and let out a loud whinny. He turned and ran to the end of the barn, then stopped, turned and walked back to Belle, nudged her, and turned toward the road again. 

“Yes! Good Boy! Take me to Papa!” Belle ran inside to get her cloak, locked the door from the outside for the first time ever, and climbed onto her trusty steed.

They left the cobblestone paths of the village and traveled for miles through the forest. Belle wasn’t sure whether it was still daylight or if night had fallen. She wished all she could hear was the damp crunching of dead leaves and thatch beneath Phillipe’s hooves, but there were also twigs snapping and animal noises. Finally, she glimpsed a flicker of light and knew it was still day. She breathed a sigh of relief at that moment, but it really was dark outside when they finally broke free of the forested gloom. A few lanterns flickered in small windows, so Belle knew they had reached another town. The ground was soft with no cobblestones and Phillipe’s hooves plodded along silently. 

She yawned and wondered how long they had been traveling. “Where are you taking me, Phillipe?” she whispered into the horse’s right ear. Phillipe’s ear twitched.

The moon came out from behind heavy clouds and showed Belle stone houses, which were larger, with taller fences and wider gates. 

Are we close to a castle? We came from the provinces, through the forest, past small houses, and now large estates. What next? She hugged Phillipe’s neck.

The horse lowered his head and Belle had to duck below a series of low-hanging willow branches. When they looked up again, they stood before a magnificent, but dreadful castle. Nettles covered every wall. Gargoyles stared at them with black stone eyes. The iron gate threatened a miserable death, with its dragon heads, and every window was black. Belle thought it must have been very beautiful once. She shuddered and clicked at Phillipe to keep going, but he arched against the reins and took her to the gate, which opened by itself. 

Belle tried to gulp, but her mouth had gone dry. She shivered inside of her warm cloak. Phillipe kept walking toward the huge front doors, where he stopped. Belle just sat there, afraid to dismount. After several minutes, Phillipe ruffled and she knew if she wanted to find her father, she had to go knock on that giant, creepy door. She climbed down off her trusted horse, but Phillipe took off.

The door opened as she approached it. She stepped inside. The lights were not on in this part of the castle, but it did not seem dark in the cavernous room. 

“Hello?” Belle’s word echoed but she heard a sound other than her own voice reverberating. She was sure it sounded like whispering. It seemed close to her, but as she gazed around, no one was there. 

“Is anybody there? I need help.” More whispering, but no one answered her. “My father may have come this way earlier.” 

Belle continued to call out and whispering followed until finally a faceless voice squeaked out, “He’s in the dungeon!” the voice disappeared abruptly and was followed by some more muffled whispering. 

“Where…” even before she could ask, a candelabra lit ahead of her. As she approached, the light went out and a few seconds later, reappeared farther down a wide corridor; then at the head of a staircase; then at the bottom. Finally, the light stopped in front of a prison-like cell, from which Belle could hear coughing. 

“Papa! What happened to you? Who did this?”

“Oh, Belle, it was a monster! A horrible beast! Picked me up with one hand and threw me in here."  Maurice coughed again and reached through the bars to caress his daughter’s face. A gust of wind blew through the dungeon.

“Run, Belle! Get away from here as fast as you can! I don’t know how you ever found me but you can’t be here!” 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING DOWN HERE?!”

Maurice cowered in his cell, but Belle clenched her fists and stood up. “How dare you do this to my father?! Release him this instant, you brute! You…you BEAST!” She stamped her foot and yelled into the dark.

“QUIET! He’s my prisoner. You want to be in there, too? What are you doing here? How did you get into my castle?”

Belle had thought the way she had gotten into the castle was rather strange, as well, and the question made her stop and think for a moment. “I just . . . walked right in. I think someone opened the gate and the door, and led me down here, but I never saw them.” 

The Beast grunted loudly and a rush of many voices whispering filled the darkness. 

“You must let my father go. He’s too old to suffer this. His hands are freezing. He won't survive." Belle knelt next to her father and reached through the bars to rub his hands. Maurice coughed again. “Please let him out.”

“I can’t.” The Beast seemed a little bit calmer for a moment. “He took a rose from my garden which is a crime and can’t go unpunished!”

“Then...” Belle hesitated for a long time. “...take me instead.” 

Beauty and the Beast

  CHAPTER 2

THE INVENTOR'S DAUGHTER 

 

Belle sighed and rested her chin on her hand as she turned the last page of the book she was reading. She set it on the side table next to her. How she wished that her life was more like the stories she read about! 

"Dear one, would you lend me a hand for a moment?" Her father's voice came from the direction of the kitchen. 

"Coming, papa!" Belle left the plush armchair and went to see what her papa was up to now. When she entered the kitchen, she saw his head ensconced in the cabinet below the sink. One hand groped around on the countertop above, but the wrench set there remained just out of reach. Belle hurried over and picked it up. 

"Looking for this, papa?" She asked as she placed the wrench into his hand."

"Merci, my dear. I forgot to bring it down here with me."

"And what are you doing now?" Her papa was always inventing something that frequently required him to disassemble things that she thought were working just fine.

"I'm just installing this pipe to bring water into the sink from this bucket below the sink."

"Is that my well bucket? How will I bring the water inside the house from the well?" Belle asked with a laugh in her voice.

"Oh, well, you see, umm, I didn't quite think of that, but we'll just have to get another bucket. Would you look for one when you go into town today?"

"Yes, of course. Let's see we need bread, eggs if they're not too expensive, and now a new bucket."

"Don't worry, my dear. I'm almost finished with my newest invention and once people see what it can do our money troubles will be over!"

Although she'd heard that line before, Belle smiled and merely said "Yes, papa." She gathered her things and left for the short walk to the village. As she walked, she imagined she was on her way to meet a handsome prince who would sweep her away to a life of travel and adventure.

"Well, hello, beautiful," a masculine voice said from the copse of trees ahead.

Ugh, Belle thought. "Hello, Baxter," she said as he stepped onto the trail carrying a string of dead birds. Belle wrinkled her nose but said nothing. She did not want to encourage a conversation with the odious Baxter.

"You're looking lovely, as always."

"Thank you."

"As you can see, I'm just returning from my latest hunt. I brought down these three plump and lovely geese. Any lady would love for these to grace her dinner table. I never return empty handed. After all, I am the greatest hunter this town has ever seen."

"Hmm," Belle murmured noncommittally. The town came into view as the road curved around another grove of trees, and Belle quickened her steps eager to escape Baxter company.

"Not to mention, the greatest looking and strongest as well. The gorgeous lady who is lucky enough to be my little wife will surely enjoy the view."

Belle rolled her eyes. Was he actually flexing right now? Who did he think that was going to impress?

"And do you know who that little wife will be?"

Belle was surprised that Baxter had managed to stop talking about himself long enough to propose to someone. She felt a moment of pity for the poor girl who would be trapped in a life with his arrogance, still most of her acquaintances didn't dream of escaping this place and she supposed Baxter could support a wife well enough. Realizing that Baxter had stopped speaking and was waiting for an answer she belatedly said, "Oh who?"

"Why you, of course! Once we're married you won't need to worry about the things the townsfolk say about you and your father. I'm sure they'll accept you once you're busy raising our strapping boys."

Belle stopped in the middle of the road. She couldn't have heard him right. Was he seriously proposing when they'd only had a handful of one-sided conversations?

"I can't possibly marry you, Baxter !" She blurted and started walking again, faster than ever. 

"And why not? You won't find another man who is willing to overlook your family's eccentricities."

"I want more than the life you can offer me. I'm going to get out of this town and have adventures like the ones in my books!" She waved the book she was carrying in the air for emphasis.

"Oh, those books. Once we're married you won't have time for those anymore. And good riddance, filling your head with ridiculous notions."

They reached the town, finally! Too bad it was too late to save her from Baxter's ridiculous proposal.

"Baxter , I will not marry you. Now if you'll excuse me, I must see to some errands for my father." Belle entered the first shop at the edge of town and shut the door behind her. Thankfully, it was the bookshop and Belle knew that Baxter would never follow her inside there. He wore his ignorance as a mark of pride. Still, she peeked out the window until she was sure he had left. 

Once she returned home, Belle found a safe place for her new bucket before she found a cozy spot to curl up with her new book. She lifted the top of the window seat and pulled out a soft blanket to keep her legs warm while she read.

Maurice opened the back door with a flurry, clapped the dust off his heavy gloves, and stomped on the wooden step a couple times before entering the room. He walked over to the dying fire and took off his coat and gloves before holding his hands out toward the embers.

Looking over his shoulder, he smiled as he watched Belle from under his bushy white eyebrows. She shifted positions, shivered slightly, and pulled a pillow alongside herself as she turned a page. Maurice hugged himself and cleared his throat loudly, grumbling something that sounded like, “brr”, and rubbing his arms noisily.

Belle looked up. “Are you cold, Papa?” She marked her page with a handbill that had been shoved at her in the marketplace, set her book on the window seat, and reached for her warm woolen cloak. She pulled the hood up around her face and patted him. “I’ll go fetch some firewood.”

“It’s all used up. I just came in from hauling a new log over.”

“What?” Belle stopped before opening the door. “We should have had enough to last the rest of the season.”

“Well,” Maurice nodded, “it’s been a long winter. Go back to your book. I’ll go out in just a minute and chop some wood.”

“No, Papa, you’ve been working all day. I can do it.”

He put his coat back on and followed her outside, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. 

Belle stared in wonderment as her father set up his device.

“All right now, Belle, if you’ll just start that crank a-goin’ at that end, it should show you what it is!” 

Belle obeyed. As she wound the crank, the axe began to move up and down, but nothing else happened. 

“Oh!” Maurice let out a little yell. “The rope is slack. Wind it until the rope is taut. That’ll do it!”

Belle gave the handle a few more strong cranks and then the whole log moved toward her. The axe chopped a chunk of wood just the right size for the fireplace. Belle reached for the crank again, but Maurice had wound the rope in such a way that it reversed on itself and kept going without any human assistance. Pull and chop. Pull and chop.

“An automatic wood chopper! Papa, how wonderful! How did you ever think of such a thing?”

“Well, my darling girl, I’m getting too old for this much chopping, and a young lady as beautiful and smart as you shouldn’t have to work that hard just to keep the house warm.”

“But Papa, I can do it just fine.”

“You sure can, my Belle. Only you do so much already. You haul the water in from the well. You bake goodies and cook meals. You run the errands. You shouldn’t have to do wood chopping on top of everything else.”

“Oh, thank you, Papa! It’s a marvel. This truly is your best invention yet!” Belle stopped talking with an odd look on her face. “Wait a minute.”

She ran into the house and brought her bookmark back outside. “Papa, look!”

The handbill read: 

Join the Industrial Revolution Today!

Bring your inventions to the

Alsace Regional Exhibition

February through June 1756

Strasbourg, France

 

Maurice gazed up at his daughter. “Belle, do you really think I could?”

“Of course, Papa. This invention could help every villager in Europe! We all need firewood and Strasbourg is only thirty miles away.”

“But my Dear, will you be all right while I’m gone? The travel alone will take a week and I’ll have Phillipe with me.”

“I will be fine. Nothing ever happens in this little town, anyway. I’ve got my books and I’ll catch up on all my chores. I won’t need to go anywhere with the horse. Just bring me back something beautiful from your trip."

Beauty and the Beast

  CHAPTER 1

A MONSTEROUS CURSE

 

Once upon a time - No. 

This is a story of a monster. A monster who never dreamed his story would be a happily-ever-after tale. A monster who had been cursed for so long that hope seemed as elusive as his happy memories. But he had grown to accept that, for if he didn’t hope, he would never be hurt.

It all happened so long ago that he’d lost track of time in his prison, even though he remembered that beguiling night as if were just moments ago.

The pouring rain blew through his open window making a massive mess in his room. 

"How could you let this happen?" He scolded Mrs. Potts and demanded she clean it up immediately. "How is a prince to live in such a sopping state? This should have been taken care of hours ago, before I had to ask." Mrs. Potts didn't spend much time in her master's room, unless she was bringing him breakfast in bed, or asking for his dinner requests. There were plenty of other servants who attended to him, but they were all about their own business in other parts of the majestic castle.

The curmudgeon prince looked out his window down into the rose gardens where he spotted something glimmer. 

“Elgin!” He called his advisor.

“Yes, sir?”

“What is that light over there?” He gestured, but the light was gone.

“I don’t see anything, sir.”

“You don't see it?"

Elgin gulped.

"You think I’m lying?" He rolled his eyes, tired of being treated like a child. "Fine, I’ll check it out myself!” He grabbed his heavy fur coat and stormed out of the room.

“Sir?” Fulbright turned away from lighting the chandeliers as he saw his master burst through the front doors into the rain. 

By the time he made it to the rose gardens he was soaked through, even with his coat on. He looked around for a moment until he spotted the flickering light. It was coming from an old hag, who had taken shelter under his favorite rose arch.

“What do you think you’re doing there? You’re going to burn down my roses!” He grabbed the small lantern and threw it to the ground. The glass shattered and the abrasive rain quickly doused the flame.

“Please sir,” her voice was gravely and full of age.

He recoiled from her; he didn’t want her old age to rub off on him. “Please what?”

“Please give me shelter, and in turn, I’ll give you this rose.”

“A rose? Look around, I have plenty of roses–” he paused. “Wait, did you steal this rose from my garden?!” He grabbed the flower and threw it down. “How dare you think you could offer my own rose to me in attempts to bargain for something.”

“This is not one of your roses. This is an enchanted rose.”

“Get out before you kill the rest of my plants with your disgusting looks,” He turned her away.

“Don’t be so quick to judge someone,” she picked up the crumpled rose from the ground. “There's more to a person than what meets the eye.”

“I said you can’t stay here, and you don’t get to steal from me either!” He reached for the crumpled rose in her hand, but she pivoted her body as she pulled a carved wand out of her cloak. With a graceful swish from her waist to her head she transformed into a beautiful enchantress right before his eyes. 

“I told you, it’s an enchanted rose, and appearances are not always as they seem.” 

He gaped at her. “Wow! I’m sorry miss,” he said. “Of course, you can come in and get shelter from the storm.” He held his hand out for her, but she just looked at him.

“I have seen what’s inside of your heart,” she sung. “You are selfish, and greedy. You take no interest in the feelings of others. You are a coward with no patience." Then with a smile she said, "That will all change.”

He didn’t understand what she was saying. She held up the rose and he watched as it returned to its former state of beauty. Then he fell to his knees in anguish as fire shot through his bones as he crumpled to the ground.

Screams came from the castle, and he blacked out from the pain. 

“You need to learn to love another and be loved in return as a wife loves her husband. If you fail to do this by the time the last petal falls you will lose your humanity forever.”

When he opened his eyes, the enchantress was gone but the rose was floating in front of him. Beside it was a magic mirror with a note that read:

This looking glass will be your only window to the outside world. But it will only be a reflection of reality.

As he reached for the flower, he saw claws and fur-covered paws. He felt his face and found a snout instead of his perfect nose. He found twisted horns coming out from the top of his head. Sorrowfully, he let out an angry growl.

He spent countless days reliving that wretched night. He was told that he needed to learn selflessness, charity, compassion, patience, and true love. But his monstrous form forced him to remain in his solitude. He grew angry and depressed. And he worried that he would remain in this form forever.

For whom could ever learn to love a beast?