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The Belle Tolls: Chapter 35

A well groomed man with short brown hair and blue eyes slowly walked through a museum exhibit, holding the hand of a young  girl with long brunette hair.  Glancing down, he scowled upon noticing she was staring at the floor and trying to step on only on red tiles instead of paying attention to anything he had to say.

“Annabelle.  There are more interesting things at the museum than the floor,” he sternly insisted.

The girl huffed and rolled her eyes.  “Museums are boring, daddy,” she replied dramatically.  “I wanna see a movie…”

“I took you to see the movie you wanted last weekend.  It’s important for you to understand history and the evolution of human society.  I’m not asking you to do this every day,” the man scolded.

Belle sighed and averted her gaze.  At nine years old, she had far more pressing matters on her mind; she wanted to start learning how to apply makeup, and to have cuter clothes to wear.  She wanted to watch movies, play video games, and eat ice cream, not waste an afternoon in a sterile building filled with old things no one cared about.

“These artifacts are many thousands of years old.  Tools used by our ancestors during a time where there electricity, internet, and movies didn’t exist,” the man continued, pointing to crude tools on display, along with primitive rock carvings behind glass.  “Back then, nothing you took for granted existed.  No comfy beds, no tasty desserts, and if you came down with the flu or got an infection, you were likely to perish with no doctors or medical help available,” he continued.

“Yeah, but we have all that stuff now!”  Belle protested.  “They probably weren’t forced to get fillings in their teeth,” she added with a slight huff.

The father furrowed his brow and frowned before letting out a deep sigh and shaking his head.  “The point is you should be grateful.  We are blessed to live at a time where we can get medical treatment and are allowed to enjoy first world amenities; even one-hundred and fifty years ago, humanity was fighting for survival without electricity or antibiotics.  We need to understand the past and appreciate the hardship humanity went through in order to give us what we have today.  Do you understand?”

Belle glanced at the displays and then looked into her father’s eyes.  “In school, they said girls couldn’t vote and do things like boys until like a hundred years ago or whatever.  So it couldn’t be that great,” she insisted.

He sighed again and rubbed his temple.  “That’s not the point.  I never once implied things were better or great; I’m telling you that everything you have today, including your ability to vote and hold a career, are thanks to the efforts of those who suffered before you.  Everything you enjoy in life is thanks to those who suffered and anguished during rougher times.”

Belle paused before hesitantly looking around the room.  She thought about how much she loved watching TV, buying new toys, hanging out with friends, and getting to eat chocolate chip pancakes in the morning.  “I-- I guess…  But you said we could see a movie this weekend, too,” she grunted.

“That was the plan until you threw a fit and broke your gameboy because I wouldn’t buy you that new game,”” the man adamantly replied, glowering at the child.  “You even had the audacity to demand we buy you a new one.  You obviously have no respect for me, the money I make to support you, or for the luxuries you’re allotted in the society we exist within.”

Belle withdrew her hand from her father’s and crossed her arms in defiance, a spark of anger welling within her.  “It was a 3DS, not a gameboy,” was all she said in response.

The father wanted to yell at her-- to explain how if he had sassed his own father like was doing now, he would have ended up with a bruised behind.  How lucky she was to even have a parent who didn’t believe in such inhumane punishment, but he knew it would do no good to essentially tell a child, ‘you’re lucky you’re not beaten for your insolence,’.  “Instead of the fun weekend activities you prefer, I will be taking you on more educational outings like this one until I feel your attitude has adjusted.  Sass me and be a smartass all you want and see where it will get you.”  Belle was a smart child-- a very smart child.  Too smart and too stubborn for her own good.  His other children were far more humble and contained much more humility than Belle when they were at the same age.  Why was this one such a problem?

Belle bit her lip and felt the anger and sadness well within her.  It wasn’t fair; it wasn’t like she wanted to break her game.  It was an accident, after all.  She was, however, starting to grasp the fact that her punishment would never end at this rate.  “I-- I’m sorry…  Let’s look at more exhibits,” she conceded.

‘What am I to do with you?’ The man mused but ultimately decided to accept the small victory.  “Very well.  Let’s head this way.”

Over the next hour, he showed his daughter around and gave her various history lessons when the opportunity was presented to him.  To his relief, Belle at least seemed to be paying attention, and even asked the appropriate question here and there.  She still acted as though she’d rather be elsewhere, but his words seemed to have gotten through to her-- on some level, at least.

Eventually, Belle glanced up at a strange figure.  A bloated, exaggerated statuette with massive breasts and a strange head.  “Eww…  Daddy, I can see her boobies-- why does she look so weird?”  She whined.

The father quietly sighed once more.  “That’s a fertility idol, Annabelle.  A representation of a goddess human used to worship many, many centuries ago.  In this case, people prayed to such a goddess to help ensure safe pregnancies and, perhaps, a bountiful harvest after the end of hunter-gatherer times.”

“Hunter-gathering-- what?...”  Belle asked as she scrunched her nose.  Did she hear about that in school?  Maybe.

The father thought for a moment, casting  a glance toward his daughter.  “Back before humans had cultivated farms, they had to follow the animal herds, hunting for food and gathering fruits and vegetables they found along the way.”

“Oh…  Was food really hard to find?”

“Yes; you could say that.  Difficult and dangerous, especially during the ice age and in colder climates.”

Belle thought hard.  Maybe she did have it kinda good, right?  Her nine-year-old brain had difficulty grasping these concepts.  “Did people really pray to weird fat statues, though?”  She asked incredulously, her lips contorting into a frown.

The older man’s face immediately grew stern and he knelt down to Belle’s level, taking her hands as he looked deeply into her eyes.  “It may seem silly to you, but our world is filled with strange things.  You are never to treat artifacts like this poorly, do you understand?”

Belle grew apprehensive, withdrawing slightly as she looked back at her father.  Why was he so serious all of a sudden?  More so than usual, at least.  “I-- I don’t get it.  It’s not like they’re real or whatever,” she insisted.  She had never believed in Santa or the Tooth Fairy and she wasn’t about to believe in some magical, deformed fat woman who helped make babies and grow crops.

The man sighed and shook his head.  “It doesn’t matter if this specific idol represents something real or not.  It’s better to be safe than sorry,” he insisted.  “Don’t play with fire.  That means if you find a representation of some god or goddess, treat it with respect and move on.”

Belle wanted to roll her eyes, but refrained from doing so, knowing it wouldn’t help the situation.  Daddy didn’t seem like the type to believe in fairies and magic, so why was he drawing the line here?  “I don’t get it, though…”

“Whether you believe it or not, let’s just say it’s best not to disrespect the cultures of others.  Karma is real and it will come back to bite you,” he promised.

“What’s karma??”  Belle blurted with a look of confusion.

“If you do good things and behave nicely, good things will happen to you in life.  If you do bad things, then bad things will happen to you.  That is the principal,” he calmly replied.  “It doesn’t matter if you understand it or not; I’m your father and you need to trust me.  No disrespecting statuettes and idols like this one, do you understand?”

No, she did not understand.  Honestly, she felt a little less respect for daddy but she knew better than to disagree.  “Yeah, yeah…  Okay.”

“Alright, good.  Why don’t you get dinner and you can tell me some of the things you learned at the museum today,” the father smiled, standing up straight.  When he saw his daughter’s deer-in-headlights stare, he rubbed his temple and let out an exasperated sigh.  “That shouldn't be a problem, right?”

“Y-- yeah!  I paid lots of attention!”  Belle insisted, rapidly nodding.  At that moment, she racked her brain, trying to scrounge up enough museum facts to avoid further trouble.

“Mr. Moore, don’t forget the meeting in thirty minutes.”

The well-cut man sighed, reading the message.  It was only the tenth time someone reminded him of said meeting the past week.  He acknowledged it before leaning back in his office chair and staring at the ceiling.  It had been an entire ten days since Belle went to Roger’s farm, and about that long since he received the bad news from Roger.

Where had he gone wrong?  His other children were kind and well behaved; they heeded his warnings and had productive lives.  When he learned of his daughter’s fate, he knew there was nothing he could do to intervene; not when it came to the meddlings of a goddess like Hesat.  Could he have done more to stop this?  Despite the curse laid upon her, he knew she had been granted multiple chances to redeem herself, but failed at every step.

“You’re a cruel one,” he quietly muttered, placing a hand on his forehead as he rubbed his temple.  With no idols of Hesat nearby, and while being inside surrounded by technology, there was no chance of Hesat hearing him, not that she’d lash out for a simple comment.  He thought back to the time he spent with his daughter; the years raising her in an attempt to help her become a refined, productive young woman.

Tears welled in his eyes as he leaned back in his chair and used a tissue to wipe his face.  He would never again share such moments with her and it was a damn shame.  Maybe she would enjoy her life as a cow; she’d finally get the chance to be a productive member of society while getting the lazy, work-free days she so desired.  Maybe Hesat did this to her because it was secretly the thing that would make her happiest in the end.

He shook his head at the thought, ousting it from his head.  He refused to believe such a thing could be true. A sudden knock rapped at the door, a female voice asking to enter.  Mr. Moore agreed, allowing a well-dressed young woman into the room.

“H-- Hey…  I just wanted to say you have my condolences.  I heard a missing person report for your daughter was filed.  If I can help you in any way, please let me know,” she said sympathetically.

Mr. Moore forced a smile.  “Thank you, Stacy…  Your words mean a lot; I don’t need anything at this time.”

After exchanging some pleasantries, he was alone again.  Without anyone to speak with, drowning himself in work was his only option.  Anything else would result in anguished thoughts.  With that, the man gritted his teeth and opened a spreadsheet on his desktop.  Shedding tears would help no one.

“Belle, it’s time to get up,” Roger’s voice gently called.

The dairy cow stirred and yawned, opening her eyes halfway as she glanced at the farmer who just entered her cowshed.  She saw him in a strange bluish-yellow hue, one that she still hadn’t fully adjusted to.  Despite only being in this body for a week, she feared she was already forgetting what it was like to see in the human light spectrum.

“Would you rather eat and potty first, or get milked?”  Roger asked, wanting Belle to have some degree of autonomy.  One moo for option one, and two for option two.

Belle’s heart started to race as she looked around, panic once again setting in as it did every morning.  She was still human in her dreams, and was allowed to enjoy such fantasies within the recesses of her psyche.  In the waking world, she felt the overwhelming bulk of her cow body, her elongated snout and thick tongue, and the pulsating pain manifesting within her wholly bovine udder.

“M-- Mooooo!”  She suddenly wailed, trembling as she stood to her hooves.  In her desperation, she tried to stand, but only succeeded in bucking upward a short distance before her front hooves crashed onto the ground once more. “MOOOOO!”  Her tail swished frantically as she internally screamed, desperately trying to speak as a human would.  Unfortunately for her, the shape of her mouth and vocal chords allowed for only bestial wails.  This couldn’t be real-- it still couldn’t be real.

Roger stepped outside the cowshed, a look of unfettered sadness spread across his face.  “I’ll come back in half an hour; I know how bad mornings can be,” he said tenderly before closing the door, leaving the cow to her own devices.  He had learned by now that nothing could help Belle when she was in this state.  Any degree of comfort would only fan the flames when it came from one who was allowed their humanity.

















CHAPTER END

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