...And the Door Opens

Without the slightest hesitation, he went to the door on the right and opened it. The dashing young lover and the audience remained apprehensive as the door slowly opened. All ears listened for the raging roar of a tiger, but no such sound broke through the placid, tranquil arena, only a soft singsong giggle. There behind the door stood the fairest damsel in the land. The crowd scooted off the edges of their seats and breathed a sigh of relief. Curly golden ringlets cascaded from her rubicund face. She accosted the young man with a flirtatious look as she stepped into the vast amphitheater for all to marvel at her beauty.1

The young lover’s relief was ever-prominent in his glistening eyes. He tossed the princess a loving glance. She did not return his appreciation, for she was slouched in an august throne alongside his majesty. The naïve crowd had erupted into cheers, relieved that the man was proven innocent and his life was spared.2

The king sat in his throne beside the princess, oblivious of the scheming that was occurring inside her head. There was a satisfied look on his face as he dusted off his hands. How he enjoyed this method of justice. Almost everyone in the arena seemed pleased, but there was one who was not. The princess’s arms were dramatically folded across her chest. There was a sly grin upon her face as she fingered something hidden among the folds in her magnificent gown of pink silk. This battle was not over yet.3

A door beneath the king opened and the sound of blaring trumpets filled the arena. The priest strode into the room, and the wedding was about to begin. Just then, the barbaric princess leaped out of her throne and sprinted towards the perplexed and frightened damsel. From within her gown, she revealed a long shimmering blade. She pointed her rapier at the terrified bride-to-be. The crowd held their breath. The king leaped to his feet. He dashed towards his daughter, but the blade was already in the air. The glistening silver plummeted into her pale, soft flesh, and all anyone could hear for miles was the damsel’s cry.4