Another Beauty and the BEAST story

Chapter I

"Jack? Jack!"
I woke up from my imaginary fantasy world that I lost myself to whenever I read. The leaves of the tree branches above me rustled in the wind. I sat up, gazing out over the small provincial village located beneath the hill I was currently resting on.
"Jack!" My mother called once more. I could see her in the town square, by the fountain, searching in the crowd for her lost son while ushering the sheep herd forward without disturbing the people rushing through the square with all kinds of merchandise. I got up on our family's horse, Philippe, and urged him to a slow trot down the hill as I put away the book I had been reading into the satchel thrown over my shoulder.
As I rode through the small town, the familiar chirping of birds mixed together with the busy people running around doing the same chores they did yesterday. The baker walked with his freshly baked baguettes, a woman buying two dozen eggs by the market, the tailor offering a woman a piece of his new, fine cloth or a man complaining at the seller about the price of his lettuce. Everyday the same as the day before.
Continuing my way though the town in search for my mother, people waved or eyed me as I trotted by. I could feel their gazes on my back when I passed them, and subconsciously I knew that the people of the town thought that I was a bit strange, always spending my time reading and having little interest of marriage, even though I already was 17 years old, as well as settling down in the system of the town. They thought that my ideas of leaving the town, that I had been born and raised in, for a life filled with adventure and excitement in some strange faraway land was strange compared to their ordinary and dull lives, with the same events repeating themselves day after day. And even though my inventor mother was an outcast among the town's folk, even she caught their whispers about me not being married yet, and she often brought that up; although I myself had little interest in doing anything else than getting lost in the world of the books.
I found my mother on the outskirts of town, near or tiny little farm a little way outside of the town, away from the noise and the hectic life of the little people who lives there. She motioned our flock of sheep inside of their pasture and then closed the gate. When she heard Philippe's hooves she turned around.
My mother was a short, round lady with her gray hair looking like a birds nest at the top of her head. She wore glasses and had kind, yet curious and alert eyes, and for the moment she wore a grim expression on her face as I jerked Philippe to a halt and glided down from his back.
"Where have you been? I spent all morning looking for you!" She lectured me as I silently lead Philippe to his paddock next to the sheep and took of his saddle.
"I know, mother," I said and hung Philippe's saddle on the fence before turning towards her. She eyed me, obviously not happy with my unamused tone.
"So, did you get what I asked you to?" Mother asked and let my mistake slip away, for this time. I smirked, and searched my satchel for the tool she had asked me to buy earlier that morning. I tossed it over to her, before turning back to Philippe and brush his chestnut-colored fur.
My mother gasped, and started to ramble about her new invention to herself, like she usually did whenever she got exited and creative. She leaved me to rush over to the small area beneath our house, but still managed to, in between her excited muttering, remind me to feed the chickens. I loved my mother, but she had a habit of getting to excited about certain events.
I grabbed the bucket filled with chicken food and made my way to the back of the house, where the chickens peacefully rested in the shadow from the overhanging roof. I threw the food at the ground, watching the chicken waking up and slowly finding the food, before putting the bucket away.
I opened my favorite book, and started to reread the sentences I could recite in me sleep. A few chickens who had eaten their share jumped up to sit in my lap or on my shoulder as I flipped through the beautifully colored pages, inhaling the story written down there. One of the chickens on my shoulder started picking its beak down on my shoulder, and I reawakened from the world of the book.
"Ah, I understand. You want to know what the book is about? It's my favorite," I said, and the chicken cooed in agreement. I chuckled as their feathers brushed against my skin, almost impatient for me to speak, even though they could not understand me or my language.
"It's the story of far off places, daring sword fights, magic spells and enchantments and a princess in disguise. Look- here's where the stray boy from the small town meets the princess for the first time, but he doesn't find out that it's her until chapter three," I explain to the chickens with excitement in my voice, reliving the adventures I shared with the characters from the book. My heart swelled with the thought of meeting someone who did not judge me by my appearance or my obvious love for books, and thought that if I was ever going to marry someone it would be for that person having that certain personality trait.
The chickens fast lost interest in my babbling about adventures, and decided to go back to sleeping in the shadow. I rolled my eyes at them, before jogging out onto the hill of grass that spread out behind our small cottage.
In the distance a river flowed, and woods of birches and aspens crawled out in front of it, hiding away whatever freedom that could be found there. I let a gust of wind whip my clothes and my hair, smelling the untamed force of the air, and wishing for it to take me up and carry me away to a place where I could be myself.
I wanted more than a simple provincial life. I wanted adventure, excitement, freedom. Not waking up everyday, only to do exactly what I had done the day before, stuck in this place, which I had not set one foot outside of since my birth.
As I breathed in the fresh smell of wild flowers and ice cold spring water, a loud explosion sounded from our house. I turned around to see black smoke rising from the wooden doors leading down to our basement. I rushed over, covering my mouth with a pice of cloth from my shirt, and coughed after my mother in the smoky labyrinth that covered the room.
As the smoke eventually faded, I found my mother curled up on the floor, hitting her latest invention with the tool I had gotten her earlier that day.
"That is IT! I GIVE UP ON THIS PIECE OF SCRAP METAL JUNK!" She screamed and threw a hammer across the room, almost hitting me in the head. I laughed.
"You always say that, but you still don't have the heart to give up," I pointed out, and she crossed her arms over her chest, lying there on the floor.
"I mean it this time! I though that I was so close, yet it still broke!" My mother cursed and damned her invention to hell under her breath.
"You can't give up, the convention is next week, and I know you'll win first prize," I handed her the hammer and started massaging her shoulders. I was since long back taller then her, and she seemed only to shrink more and more for every year that she aged.
"You really think so?" A tiny hope flickered in my mother voice as she accepted the hammer.
"I know it!" I said and winked at her. She blew out some air through her nose in a determined puff and went back to screwing on mutters and drawing wires inside the belly of her machine.
I heard Philippe neigh outside, and left my mother to her inventing. Almost carefree I walked towards Philippe's paddock. He stood by the fence, anxiously pacing back and forth, completely ignoring the green grass by his feet.
"What's the matter, boy?" I asked and slowly caressed his big head. He breathed down my neck, relaxing a little bit in my presence.
"Jack! There you are! I've been looking for you!" A voice called out from behind me. My whole body stiffened up.
Oh no. Anyone but her.
I understood why Philippe was anxious, and knowing I probably should have jumped up on his back and galloped away as fast as I could to avoid my doom, I turned around to face my worst nightmare.