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...
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Combined both the French and English language has over three-hundred and one thousand four hundred and seventy-six words. With so many options you would think that describing something of considerable beauty would be easy. Only it isn't, it's probably the hardest thing to do. The French countryside is one of these things. There are just no words in either the English or the French language or any language in this whole wide world that can describe the French countryside with the respect that it deserves.
Standing on the hilltop littered with fresh, summer grass and those quaint white flowers that look like bits of snow my eyes peer out as far as they can and drink in the heavenly sight in front of me. The French countryside truly looks like the angles cut out a piece of heaven and allowed us, mere mortals, to keep it down here. Even though sometimes we don't deserve it.
The landscape is riddled with hills that look like mountains reaching up for the dim, blue sky. Their tops are decorated with thin wisps of mist giving them their unique features, they stand out like kings dressed in their finest jewels among peasants draped in nothing but rags covered in dirt. Below the hills, the grass and trees spread out far beyond my sight were all so green that they could so easily put the most precious of emeralds hosted at his Majesties castle to shame. The edges of the crisp morning air turn into blades as I breathe it in, cutting my lungs in a way that causes a dull pain but makes me desire more of it and each time will leave me feeling like I can never get enough no matter how deep of a breath I take.
As I rest my heavy back against the base of the large and lonely oak tree towering here on this single hill the bark broke from my weight. Sighs of exhaustion slip past my dry and cracking lips as my body tired from hours of riding on the back of my horse is allowed to relax. My muscles relax resulting in a sharp pain that makes me feel like my body has been strained for centuries.
My arm automatically bends over my now-closed eyes shielding them and a few bits of my face from the glares of the early morning sun rising slowly from behind the hills. It is muscle memory for me, after all, this was a common position to find me in when I was a child sitting in the field outside the village of my childhood instead of doing the chores my mother would give me. I guess you could say I was a bit of a rebel when I was a child. I still am even more so now that age has allowed me to go further.
Dante, my stallion, neighs and snorts shaking his head in a frustrated manner. His snow-white main flowing in the air before he bends his head down and begins to munch on the wet grass dripping with the morning dew.
"I know you are tired, Dante. But don't worry, Soleil, we are almost there. Believe me when I say when we get there the first thing on my list is to find a comfortable place for us both to rest." A loud rumble echoes from my empty belly. I had finished my food rations that were so lovingly packed in my satchel by my mamma when she had learned of my journey. "Okay, scratch that. The first thing is to get some food in my belly, and then we go to sleep."
Keeping my back against the tree I peer out from under my arm and watch the rest of the sun rise from behind the hills. A large glowing yellow and orange ball broke out from its prison pushing back the darkness that was allowed to roam the plains while the light was trapped away. Now that light was out and the remaining path to my destination was clearer than it was nearly an hour ago. I mounted Dante, nudged his sides with my mud-stained boots and flicking the reigns he rocked back and forth once before beginning his stride forward towards the small village in my sights.
Belles Collines is a small village that most people easily forget about. There isn't much to this village how do the people who live here survive well your guess is as good as mine. It is merely a stopping point in my journey to Paris where the prize for my journey lies awaiting.
A cobbled pathway riddled with cracks from the weeds that had managed to push past the stones reaching out desperately for the sun so that they may survive led my way into the village. My spine shivered with delight and a light layer of goosebumps formed on the bare skin under my jacket as the blissful sound of Dante's hooves hitting the cobbled path danced around my ears. Click, clack, click, clack, click, clack.
The breaking out of the sun acting like a beacon brought forth the souls that live in the village. One after the other the doors and windows of the small and crooked houses clearly owned by peasants swung open revealing the bright and chirpy people of the village. My muddy and boring brown eyes meet that of a young woman shaking out a rug, the dust showering the dry ground under it.
"Bonjour!" she called out to me in a cheery voice while revealing her pearly white teeth.
My mother's scolding voice hissing at me not to be rude filled my ears and smiling back raising my hand out to the woman I greeted her back.
"Bonjour!"
That one simple word seemed to hold a large power in the village for one after the other men, women, and children of all ages called out to each other back and forth back and forth. Bonjour, Bonjour, Bonjour.
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I know there wasn't much context in this chapter this was just to get you guys into the setting. I hope it worked.
Translations:
Soleil- sunshine
Belles Collines- beautiful hills (I know I'm super creative aren't I)
