First of all, I may have named the heroine Belle, but this has nothing to do with Disney's animated movie. It's just that the story of Beauty and the Beast is of French origin, so I wanted to give the characters French names, and quite frankly, Belle is the best substitute for Beauty.
This story is basically a retelling of the original fairy tale, perhaps with a few embellishments as I go along. I mainly started writing it because I wanted to play around with Beauty's character. She's normally depicted as being very capable, independent, and strong-willed, so I decided to make her more timid. Hopefully she doesn't come across as annoying! Please review with your feedback!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter 1:
The house was battered yet well-kept. It was woeful yet hopeful: Woeful because it had clearly seen better days, but hopeful due to the obvious care with which its inhabitants attempted to maintain it. It suggested that the anticipation of prosperity remained in the home, even when prosperity itself had fled.
There were three handsome young men and three pretty girls going in and out of the house. The men were hauling logs, while the girls were carrying buckets of water. It was winter, and a thin layer of snow covered the ground. All six youths were panting heavily as they exerted themselves, their breaths clearly visible in the cold air.
"Belle, hurry up!" one of the girls shouted to her sister, a petite girl who was struggling to hoist a relatively large pail.
"Sorry!" the girl, Belle, shouted in reply. It must be said that she was significantly prettier than her two older sisters, though one could tell by the way she carried herself that she had no conception of her own beauty.
"Don't rush her, Marie," one of the young men admonished his sister. "Belle's much weaker than you are. She really is trying."
"She always tries," Marie replied. "But her efforts don't really amount to anything, do they?"
"Poor thing," said the third sister, looking back at Belle, who had finally succeeded in lifting her bucket and was now staggering after her siblings. "So simple-minded and useless. It's lucky for her she's pretty! She'll always be taken care of!" This final statement was spoken with just a touch of envy.
Belle frowned, overhearing her sister's hurtful words. "Adele shouldn't say such things," she muttered. "I'm not simple-minded or useless." She paused, thought for a moment, then amended her statement. "I'm not very useless." Glancing towards the house, she saw her oldest brother, Laurent, striding towards her.
"Belle, give me your bucket," he ordered her. "You've done enough. Why don't you go inside and stoke the fire?"
"I'm not tired," Belle said stoutly, tightening her grip on the handle of her pail.
"Don't be ridiculous," Laurent scoffed. "I can tell by your eyes that you're about to faint. Go inside and warm yourself, please. When Papa returns, I don't want him to find his favorite child half-dead." Ignoring Belle's protests, he seized the bucket from her hands and carried it into the house. "Come, Belle!" he shouted over his shoulder.
With a heavy sigh, Belle followed her overbearing brother into the house. Inside, a fire was blazing. Over the fire hung a large pot in which water was just beginning to boil. Belle watched as Laurent poured into the pot the bucket of water which she had been attempting to carry.
"Marie and Adele are going to make soup," Laurent informed his little sister. "They're in the cellar now, gathering all the ingredients."
"I'll go help them," Belle declared. She turned to the cellar stairs, eager to assist her older sisters, but Laurent put an arm in front of her, halting her departure.
"You will stay by the fire and make sure it doesn't burn out," he insisted.
Belle looked at the roaring flames, then glanced up at her brother with a skeptical expression. "The fire won't burn out for hours," she said. "I'm not stupid. Let me help Adele and Marie."
"Of course you're not stupid," Laurent hastily agreed, "but a fire should always be watched. I'm going to go help Louis and David." With these words, he marched out of the house to join his two brothers in their wood-chopping.
Belle pulled a stool toward the fire and despondently sat down. For a long time, she simply stared into the fire with a glum expression. "Useless," she mumbled, echoing the words of her sister Adele. As she gazed thoughtlessly into the fire, a strange story began to form in her mind. She imagined princes and princesses, witches and fairies, enchanted forests and fearsome dragons…
"Excuse me, Belle," Marie's voice suddenly broke in. "Can you move over? Adele and I need to reach the pot."
"Sorry," Belle hurriedly said, scooting her stool back from the fire.
"Daydreaming again?" Adele asked with a condescending smile.
Belle did not like it when her sisters patronized her. "Yes, I was daydreaming," she grumpily replied. "Laurent won't let me do anything else."
"Well, honestly, what else can you do?" Marie bluntly asked.
"I'm sure I could do many things, if you'd let me!" Belle protested. "Can I help you now?"
"No, not today," Marie replied as she dropped a large bundle of chopped potatoes into the boiling water. "We don't have time to teach you what to do."
"I've watched you so much that I think I already know what to do," Belle insisted. "I could be very helpful. Adele, can't I please help?"
"No, you really can't," Adele said with an impatient sigh. "But since Papa will be coming home soon, perhaps you should dust the house."
"Yes, why don't you go dust?" Marie eagerly agreed.
"Very well, I'll do that," Belle said slowly, not sure that dusting would really be useful, since she knew Adele and Marie had scoured the entire house only two days prior. Nevertheless, she was eager for any sort of task, so she followed her sisters' suggestion.
Papa had been absent for several months, and Belle and her siblings were eagerly awaiting the day on which he would return. He had gone to the big city in an attempt to regain his former wealth. Everyone in the family desperately hoped that he would be successful in his endeavor. During the past several years, all six children had learned how to survive without money, but the experience had not been enjoyable. It would be wonderful to have servants again. David hoped to go to the university, and both Adele and Marie were eager to be considered eligible brides. More importantly, all six children wanted to purchase a proper gravestone for their departed mother. None of this could occur without money.
Papa had been extremely optimistic when he departed. "Daughters, what would you like me to bring you as gifts?" he had asked. "Ask for anything you desire! After all, I'll need to spend my new money on something."
Giggling, Adele had requested a beautiful gown to wear to the next town dance. Marie had simply said, "Any sort of jewels will do."
Belle had been at a loss. "I don't really need a gown or jewels," she had reflected, "so why don't you just bring me a pretty rose?"
"Roses don't grow in the winter," David had scoffed. "Really, Belle, you should try to use your brain more often."
Chastened, Belle had gazed awkwardly at the floor until Papa reassured her, "I'll find you a rose, Belle. Surely there will be some in the city!"
"Come home safely, Papa," Belle had said, gratefully embracing her father.
How she missed him now! He had never once told her she was useless or stupid. Her siblings often remarked, not without a touch of envy, that she was her father's favorite child, but Belle didn't believe them. She knew Papa was very fair, and a fair man would never prefer one child over the others.
As they hauled logs, cooked and dusted on that wintry morning, all the children had expected Papa to return within two or three days. However, he did not. He did not return in four days, nor in five, nor even in six. Finally, when his six children were almost petrified with fear of what could have happened to him, he appeared on the doorstep with a large chest of riches and an expression of despair.
Well, that's that. If you have any thoughts, comments, or criticism, please leave a review!