Author's note: Basically English is not my native tongue, and I grew up with Chinese-cultural upbringing. Please forgive me for any typo or grammar errors.
During those years, I was believed to be cursed mainly due to Superstition. This story actually happened many years back when I was very young. It was one of the many dreams I had with an Enchanted princess who was cursed. Every night while I slept, we had many adventures together, this helped to sooth my sorrows and miseries, since I grew up with a bad childhood.
Summary: For a while I closed my eyes and tried to rest a little. When I had opened my eyes again. He was no longer beside me. The seat was empty and cold. "Have I closed my eyes that long?" I mused. All I could remembered were his whispers. "Belle means beauty and beste means beast..."
Disclaimer: All Beauty and the Beast characters belong to Disney. Only the original characters belong to me. The story is purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual individuals or events are coincidental.
Beauty and the Beast: The Story Writer
Chapter 1: The mystery boy
"It is you who caused all this misfortune!" Screams and shouting could be heard throughout the whole neighborhood. "You are cursed and you brought all these upon us! You will bring more harms to us again and again! You are nothing but a shame to the family!" Every time whenever someone in the family had a misfortune, like losing in gambling, had a fall, gotten ill, had an accident, or just any tiny minor thing, were all to be blamed on me.
Superstition was what caused my family to hate me in those years. To them, I was cursed since I was born under a zodiac sign that was believed to be a bad omen. Not all who were born under that zodiac year were cursed though. Only female were considered as cursed, and only at certain specific times were believed to be bad. All in all, I was born in the wrong year, wrong timing, wrong gender, wrong family.
It was the same like any other days. I was physically bruised and emotionally degrading. Even though I was still very young, I had to do whatever chores were given to me. Since I am the oldest children, I was needed to take care of my younger siblings as well. All did me no help, and most of the times, I was too distracted or too tired and could not finished my homework.
The next day, in school, my teachers and principal did no help to me either. I had remembered those days, even when I told the truth, they would said I was lazy and believed I was lying. I could not remembered how many times they have smacked both of my palms with either a wooden or metallic ruler.
I fought back once, with one of the teacher, she was so very frustrated and ended smacking my knuckles instead of my palms with a metallic ruler. This hurt me physically to the maximum. That was when I finally asked myself. "Am I really cursed? May be I'm truly cursed!" I was only nine when that happened. During those days, it was the norm and even parents encouraged these kind of so called punishment of being rude.
Many times, I would refused myself to show any emotions in front of any person. I would controlled myself and would only cried when I was truly alone or crying softly in one of the cubicle in the girls restroom. None of the crying helped me much and with all the degrading ongoing, I was truly broken and sad.
When I was about ten, during one of the bus journey home after school, I could not recalled if it was a dream, or I had really met this boy. This boy wore something like a dark brown ancient vintage hoodies, with black long pants and black hooded boots, which was nothing like what we would wears in my era. He looked kind of young with a small frame, probably due to the hoodies, which I could not saw his entire face clearly. However, I could noticed his hair was darker color, may be black, and his eyes were dark brown. He had a pale skin face, a small button nose, with pinkish lips.
He was siting beside me with a smirk on his face. He kept whispering something which I could not determined who he was talking to. For a while I closed my eyes and tried to rest a little. When I had opened my eyes again. He was no longer beside me. The seat was empty and cold. "Have I closed my eyes that long?" I mused. All I could remembered were his whispers. "Belle means beauty and beste means beast..."
End of chapter 1