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...
Day of the Beast. Never in my life had I heard such an odd name for a day that appears to be one of celebration. What would make a town have such a funny-sounding day? What is the beast and why would there be a day dedicated to it?
The woman who helped me book my room finds my confusion amusing and smiles at me. "Don't worry, darling, all will make sense at the feast tonight."
"Will I have to wear one of those ghastly masks?" I chuckle pointing towards the door where the sounds of the two men roaring- or at least attempting to- can still be heard echoing down the streets followed by either a bubble of laughter or a terrified shriek of people passing by.
The lady lets out a whole-hearted laugh as she shakes her head causing her long blond locks to flap left to right and once again before stopping. "Don't worry, darling. You don't have to wear one... unless you want to. It's mainly for the kids and the few odd... enthusiasts."
"You mean that disappointment I have to call a son," the man behind the bar grumbles.
Turning hastily to face the man she hisses, "Pierre, now is not the time for this."
"I'm just telling the truth, Sophie. That boy needs to be more serious and start acting like a man. Not running around in a mask with that wimp he calls a friend."
Without muttering another word Pierre trudges off to an area behind the bar where I hear the sound of boxes being moved.
Sophie sighs and wipes away a small tear pooling in the corner of her eye. "I'm sorry about him," she whispers to me.
"It's okay, I know the type. My mother is the same." I give her a small smile hoping it will cheer her up and it looks like it does.
"Listen I know you are here to rest but I could use some help preparing the pies for the feast tonight. I feel terrible for asking-"
Reaching my hand out I grab her upper arm and give it a gentle and reassuring squeeze. "I would be happy to help. I'm not the greatest in the kitchen but I'll try. Besides, I had more than enough rest yesterday," I chuckle.
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For most of my life, I've never been great in the kitchen. My whole childhood my mother had desperately tried to get me into a working ethic in the kitchen, or pretty much any other choice considered for woman. She failed though. Miserably. But today working with Sophie I enjoyed myself. I can't believe I just said that. Oh goodness, that was disgusting to think. But it is true.
The hours we spent together seemed to fly by. Sophie told me stories of her childhood and her son, and I in return told her stories of my father and me which are the only happy stories I have of my family.
I have to say I'm impressed with myself and the perfection that these pies turned out. Don't let me fool you okay I was horrible in the beginning even though I only had one job, which was to roll out the dough and shape them into the tins. But, after some time and more than a few much-needed helping hands lent by Sophie, I got better, and we got all the pies done with more than enough time to spare so that we could get ready for the feast.
