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THIRTY SIX
Miss Melt descended from a clear blue sky in the bright sun. A horse-drawn carriage rambled below on a rutty dirt path. The vehicle was adorned with royal insignias and flags.
At seeing her above him, the driver trembled. He whipped his animals as hard as he could in a feeble attempt to escape her.
She simply floated down before them, gazed into their eyes, and they trotted to a halt. The frantic human continued to whip and crossed himself in his terrified delirium.
Pandora’s shimmering bare feet touched down onto the rumps of the nearest horse pair, and she flashed her eyes to silence the crazed little man. “Who is your king?”
The driver’s hands shook uncontrollably, as they clung to a rosary necklace.
“Answer.”
“My lord is King Philip.”
“Is he old, young? Attractive?”
“He is twenty-two years, my lady.” The terrorized driver stared down to the right, and then squeezed shut his eyes to avoid seeing her.
“Has he a wife? Are you without a queen?”
“My lord is engaged to be wed.”
“Oh. Unfortunate, for the girl. Very well. Remember nothing.”
Her energy blinded him in a long flare, and she soared over his head and toward a small cluster of puffy clouds in the distance.
Miss Melt eventually arrived above the castle of King Philip. There she hovered like a second sun, observing the little creatures. Her pores gushed raw white energy for the sake of spectacle, which humans were so fond of.
The dumbfounded serfs gathered below in the courtyard. Many dropped to their knees. Others slunk back into the recesses to hide themselves and their children.
Pandora’s white feet set down on the cobblestone road before a line of crossbow-armed royal guards. Her skin faded back to normalcy.
“Greetings,” she said.
They whispered in terrified snippets. “Is she an angel?”
“What shall we do?”
As Pandora strolled ahead in her flowing silver gown, the men retreated and cleared a swath for her. Jittery hands hovered at the handles of their swords.
“Is she a demon?”
“A witch?”
Pandora announced, “I bring thee only good tidings.”
As she spun slowly, she smiled on the simple creatures.
They stared at her illumination and became more pliant. Focusing her attention on one old soldier with the most elaborate colors, she curtsied before him and gazed deeply into his face.
“I bring important news for King Philip, and it is for his ears only.”
The disturbed commander nodded awkwardly, and he set off to retrieve his King. Minutes later, the young Philip appeared. He was moderately attractive and wore a beard. Peeking from behind his shifting wall of bodyguards, he cowered.
Their entire society had screeched to a halt. All the peasants gawked from every available position around the castle courtyard.
The king stepped to within fifty feet of Pandora, and he called, “I am Philip, the sovereign of these lands. Who are you?”
Pandora curtsied to him. “My lord, I seek an audience to discuss great projects that will make your kingdom the envy of all of Europe.” As she caught his glance, her flaring eyes burrowed into his mind, and her energy snared him from across the yard.
King Philip’s face glowed pleasantly, and he pushed out in front of his guards. “That sounds quite marvelous.”
“Indeed it will be, sire. Shall we retreat to more private accommodations? And I will share my wondrous gifts with thee?”
The bishop, a short sweaty man off to the side of the King’s guards, shook his head confusedly and he called out, “Are you an angel from God? Or are you from the Devil?”
Gasps.
Heads shook, and people retreated a step. The crowd froze in silence.
Pandora smirked, as she located him in the audience. “And if there were neither?”
The bishop repeated the words. “If there were neither?” He hid himself behind the soldiers. “Is this blasphemy?”
She smiled. “It is a question for your question.”
The King stepped out commandingly. “Hold! I shall speak with this good lady and all questions shall be answered in time.” Philip trotted forward and presented himself before her.
“I am honored, your majesty.”
“Come. We shall discuss your plans, together.”
“I am indeed charmed.” Pandora bowed her head and strutted forward with King Philip into his castle. They ascended several winding staircases.
Within the royal bed chamber, Pandora took up a position facing him.
King Philip breathed in deeply, mesmerized by her presence.
Pandora’s eyes meandered around the room and took in the royal flourishes. “I have decided that I am a queen.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, it is the only solution for us.”
“For us?”
“Your queen.” Her fingers untied her silken gown, and it slid off her and to her feet, leaving her naked and pulsing with soft peach energy.
Philip’s eyes fixed involuntarily on her glowing body.
Pandora stepped right out of her garment toward him. “You like me, do you not?”
“Oh yes. Oh yes.” Philip stood frozen, putty to her advances.
Pandora’s fingers danced across his shirt and began to unbutton it. “Then give yourself over to my love.”
Philip held statuesque as she yanked his shirt off of his arms.
Pandora’s eyes beamed blue in his face. “Release your flood of love, your majesty. For nothing is better than pure love.”
The King swooned.
She turned her attention to his pants.
Commotion behind her, the massive oak door wrenched open. Royal troops rushed inside the room with crossbows pointed.
Guided from the rear by that bishop fellow, he screeched out at them, “Seize the witch!”
“Oh no, no no.” Pandora shook her head angrily.
More soldiers stumbled into the room to reinforce. Those at the front had frozen with paralysis upon the sight of her nakedness. Others bashed into them from behind.
Crossbows fired. Short arrows impaled Pandora through her belly and chest.
Instantly livid, she roared with Supernatural rage.
“You do not dare!”
An explosion of ultraviolet energy blasted out from her in every direction, sending every human in the room flying back into the stone walls.
“Ahhh!” She pulled out each of the arrows, her face contorted to monstrous proportions. Black vapor escaped from her wounds like a fine mist.
“You ridiculous insects!” Her voice boomed through the corridors, “You will regret this day.”
Pandora dressed herself and strolled forward out of the room, as the remaining humans fled for their lives, abandoning the castle in their chaotic retreat from her.
Strutting down the staircase, she passed the atrium back into the open air. Outside the castle, a final glance at the townsfolk, but they had scattered like rodents from a flood.
Days later she returned and landed in the center of the courtyard again. A similar hysteria erupted immediately. The simpletons trembled in the shadows, hiding themselves from her.
Pandora placed an urn in the courtyard, one with a sealed lid on top. A dirty glance of her glowing green eyes, to the left and to the right, and she shot back up into the sky to disappear from those lands forever.
By the following month, King Philip’s entire kingdom lay dead from the Black Plague.
J. Giambrone 