More than this provincial life
As the rooster crowed to signal the first light at the break of dawn awaking those who have yet to wake, the little french village of Villeneuve was so quiet and yet so hectic as usual. People weaving in between each other, selling and buying at the market, each having their own story to weave with their own threads of life but, in every town there is a black sheep, one thread different from the rest, one young girl. Gorgeous by anybody's standards with eyes that held the stars within them, always so bright and full of life. But as with most things, looks are not everything. What's a golden bucket if it holds no water and all that glitters is not gold? It's someone's heart that matters most. While the majority of the villagers would admit that she was beautiful, they'd definetly all agree she was kind yet odd, always willing to help those in need of it, though always with her nose in a book and head in the clouds. Dreaming of far off lands, princes slaying dragons, damsels in distress, mystery with a side of romance and heartbreak.
Making small talk along the way as she walked through the small provincial town, dreaming of far off places and distant lands. On the way to the library to return the book she just borrowed, she recalled all the captivating details stored within the pages, magic seeds, castles in the sky, giant ogres, and the hero having to outwit them. The journey was filled with the chatter of the busting markets, and the whispers of the townsfolk, not that she minded. Entering the small library, she greeted the old librarian, he was always so nice, letting her read the newest books he got. She has spent endless hours in that library, just reading and talking to the older man about every book they both read. Looking through the small selection of books, you saw one that caught your eye, it always did. A mysterious prince and a girl who learns to fall in love with him, a truly beautiful story. Snatching the book right of the shelf you asked to borrow it again. Bless the sweet old librarian, this time he let you keep it. You borrowed it so many times, it might as well be yours he stated. You thanked him profusely and wished him a fine day before leaving the library to go home. Your nose burried in the book you had read over a thousand times, you probably remember the whole book at this point, maybe some day you will have read it enough times to fully memorise it.
But all good thing must end at some point, all good things must come to an end. This time it seemed to end with none other than Peter Parker himself. A brutish man who had let all the fame of being the war hero 'Spider-Man' get to his head, apparently he used to be a nice, well rounded and smart character but fighting in the war had changed him and not for the better, you win one battle and all of a sudden the town praises you like a god. Too engorced in the book to notice his upcoming frame you accidentally bumped face first into his chest.
"Im so sorry." you quickly apologised.
"You're always so focused on those books, you should be focusing on more important things," he leaned closer to your face as though to let you have a better look at his 'handsome' smug face.
"like me" peter gloated with a wolf like grin playing on his lips. Completely disregarding your comfort and personal space he threw an arm around your waist dragging you along with him whether you wanted it or not.
"How about we go to the tavern and I can show you all my war medals?" He questioned with a bragging tone of voice, leaving no room for an answer as he kept yanking you in the direction of the said tavern. Somehow managing to wiggle out of his firm grip, slowly backing away from him while hugging your book closer to your chest, as though it was a shield to protect you from him.
"I would truly love to but I must head back home to help my father." declining politely, you could feel Peter roll his eyes at the statement. He never really liked your father much, stating he 'let you read to much, letting you keep your head and heart in the clouds.' Not that the village disagreed, with him always whispering behind your back, "old man Marko? A great craftsman but strange." You didn't blame them though, people tend to shun what they do not understand. With a brisk pace you made your way through the village to your house at the edge of the small province. Walking up the steps to the door and entering, you see your father sitting at his work bench humming softly to himself as he painted a small music box. Watching him work with such intent focus, you greet him softly with a kiss to his temple as to not break his focus. He greeted you back in return with a soft smile playing on his lips.
"Papa? Do you think I'm odd?" You questioned softly, while checking over the book for any damage from the collision you had with Peter a few moments prior.
"My daughter? Odd?" He questioned confused glancing up from his work to look at you "What makes you say such a thing?"
"People talk and I don't fit in much." You state taking a seat beside him as he looked a you with those kind gentle eyes of his.
"Well what about that Parker boy he's awful handsome"
"Handsome, rude and conceded," throwing your hands up "oh he's not right for me papa." You sigh exasperatedly.
"Well I'm sure you will find someone, you are a smart beautiful girl, any man would love to have you. Never settle for anything less." He spoke softly as he cradled your face in his rough hand, years of wood carving and sanding having roughened them. The many years had not been nice to him and yet he still worked with a smile on his face. Leaving him to finish the music box, you went out to prepare Philipe, your horse for the journey to the fair. Loading the last of the boxes onto the cart, as your father got seated on the cart.
"What would you like me to bring back this time?"
"A rose, like the one in the music box"
A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he sat above you.
"Is that all?" " yes"
"Very well then a rose just like the one from the music box for the lovely lady" he stated dramatically with a bow of his head to add emphasis to the joke.
You waved him off, as you watched his form as it faded into the distance behind the tree line. Retreating back into the small house. Grabbing the book that was on the bench, you sat down on the soft sofa planning to curl up with the book and have a relaxing rest of the day. However, a loud knocking interrupted your preparation for a pleasant day. Looking through the peephole in the door you rolled your eyes at the unpleasant sight on the other side. Peter Parker, his tongue running along his teeth while fixing his hair, no amont of pampering or grooming could get you to like him. Regrettably opening the door to great him, he pushed passed you barging into your home without even taking his shoes off, tracking mud all over the floor. Glaring at the now tracked mud you didn't pay attention to what he was saying.
"And of course we'd have at least five kids"
Snapping your head up in question at the bold statement, a million thoughts racing through your head, not one of them positive. Trying to hide all the emotions that where racing in order to stay polite you respond.
"as lovely as that sounds I must decline"
"decline? But I can give you anything you could ever dream of and more"
"Peter you cannot give me what I dream of. What I dream of and what you want, there's too much distance between them, it would never work lest we hate each other." The facts of the matter didn't seem to sit well with Peter as he grew more agitated. His features deepening with a dark gaze. Standing up from his splayed out position on the sofa he stalked towards you; slowly as though a predator hunting its prey. Backed up against the front door of the house, his imposing frame towering over you, feeling around the door for the nob, you grabbed it quickly hoping he wouldn't notice. Thankfully he was too busy staring deep into your eyes as he spoke with a low threatening tone.
"ma chérie, I can give you anything, I can give you more than this village ever will. All you need to do is agree to marry me. Just say yes"
"It's a kind offer but I must say.. NO!" You exclaim swinging the door open, watching as he toppled over and out the door; slamming the door before he could even stand up, not wanting to deal with anymore of his childish temper tantrums.
He acted like a child that had never been told no before; like a child who was denied sweets, he stood up glaring at the door before stomping off, over the flower bed back in the direction of the tavern. Letting out a frustrated sigh your shoulders relaxed, releasing the tension that had built up from the encounter. Peeping out of the window to check he was gone; exiting the house slowly, checking that the coast was clear. Stepping down the stairs and walking around the house to the back to feed the chickens in their coop. Spreading their seeds around on the ground, you started talking to the chickens, truly you must be insane to talk to chickens but they seem to be the only ones who would listen. When the whole town fawns over Peter, they would call you crazy for denying his proposal, some of them would kill for Peter to even so much as look in their direction. Needing to clear your head you walked out to the meadow behind the house, looking out over the fields and forests with a sense of longing. The village behind you; the villagers would never understand how you felt. To be tied to the village for the rest of your life, to be bound to a small kitchen in a suffocating house; that kind of life is not for you. Dashing sword fights, daring knights, far off journeys in distant lands far far away, that was the life for you. Your heart and soul longed for adventure, for freedom.
Sitting down on the soft plush grass, picking a single dandelion from the meadow, looking at the delicate plant in the palm of your hand, closing your eyes. You made a wish, a wish for an adventure, for a handsome prince to save you from your boring day to day life, to whisk you off your feet. For what is an adventure without a handsome prince or knight in shining armour whisking the heroins heart and feet off of the ground and into the distant sunsets. For them to have another thousand adventures that we shall never know of. Opening your eyes you blow the tuft of seedlings into the wind hopefully carrying your dreams along with them.
Your head and heart was brought back to reality by the panicked neighs of a horse. Standing up from your position on the meadow, looking towards the direction of the noise. A horse was running out of the forest, a chestnut horse with light hair. That’s Philipe he looked like he had seen the dead come back to life. Rearing out of all control, flailing all over the place making it hard to grab his reigns. You managed to bring his head down to a lower level and eventually through shushing and petting he calmed down. Glancing at the still attached cart, you realised. Where was papa? What had scared Philipe so much to abandon his rider?
Making quick work of the straps that connected the cart to Philipe, you jumped onto Philipe grabbing the reigns not caring for riding bare back.
“Philipe take me to papa!” You commanded while kicking the horse into a gallop towards the forest he had emerged from.