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...
Crack! The small piece of wood I had propped up against the wall splits in two as I fire the tenth arrow into it. This one like the nine before it hits the center mark that I made by smudging coal with my finger.
I sigh in frustration as I toss my bow to the ground. My hands fly up and slide through my messy hair tugging on the strands to the point I might just rip some out.
"What's the point of this!" I scream in frustration.
There isn't any point in my believing that I can do anything to save the possibly trapped woman. What can these flimsy arrows do to that beast?
There is no point in practicing right now. I know my aim is always well and true and I know I am the best at what I do, years of training with my father made sure of that. No amount of arrows that I shoot into this piece of wood will prepare me for a fight against a monster that shouldn't even exist. These arrows might not even be able to kill it.
But I can still try.
I pick up my bow and within a minute fire, all seven of my remaining arrows, and everyone hits the other splitting them in half. Only the last arrow remains whole sticking out of the wood. The winner in the bunch, the last one standing. I can only hope and pray that I will be like that arrow. I'll never be able to do this alone though. I need help.
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I've encountered many difficult tasks in my life. Pulling the string in a bow back enough to fire an arrow. Finding my way back home without any supplies when my father decided to teach me that when I was eight. Learning to fight back against my brothers when they pulled their so-called 'pranks' on me which were acts of violence fringing on abuse. Coping with my father's death and the most difficult task of all... living with my mother. However, I never once thought that locating an old man would be added to that list.
As I semi-run down the cobbled streets, dodging people who were not impressed by me almost running into them by the way-and carts I sigh in frustration at my inability to locate Gaston hobbling along with his cane.
"Excuse me monsieur have you seen Gaston?" I ask a man walking by me.
His response doesn't consist of words, he simply grunts at me, dismissing me without even sparing me a glance as he continues on his mission.
I spend a decent ten minutes doing the same thing. Going up to the nearest person and asking if they had seen Gaston and could tell me where he is. Each of their answers were pretty much the same. The men much like the first one I approached either ignored me or made that quiet and dismissing grunting sound, the few odd ones muttering curses under their breaths. The women I asked were of no help either, but unlike the men, their replies consisted of words. None of them are good though.
"What would a young thing like want with the grimy old man like that?"
