Pandora’s Rebirth. (Written/begun at 15 years old, about 1995?)

Light floods in the open window. The creature opens its jaw wide, exposing rows of jagged,white,teeth,its jowls trembling as it shakes its mighty head, lazily swatting flies with its mammoth tail. The woman in the huge four-poster bed stirs,but does not wake.Hair splayed out on the pillow like a pool of shimmering gold,face and features porclain in contrast to the decor in the esquisite room.
The woman was beautiful,englowered by a strange hue around her head,engulfed by the pristine sheets arranged systematacly in and around her body,creating a cocoon around her fragile little body. 
A knock at the door awoke the sleeping woman and she yawned,first startled at the beautiful room she was in,and the realisation that this was not the modest flat in London that she was used to,what she was wearing(normally she would wear nothing,but the white old-fashioned gown she had on was all too 'Little House on the Prairie' for her)
And then lept from her bed in sheer fright at the sight of this frightening,albeit beautiful,Indian Tiger,its stripes striking against the bright orange of its downy fur.
The tiger snarled,lips drawn back,menacingly,although it made no attempt to move toward her.
By the bed,on a silver table with a glass top,lay a small,red book.
She reached for the book,picking it up gingerly,as if the very book was made of glass itself.
On the front was a single letter.She wondered what the 'P' stood for but she could'nt think,still aware of the oppressive creature just yards away from her,licking its fur and stretching lazily.
But wait-had'nt the tiger been a traditional Indian Tiger,that being of a deep orange and wide,black stripes?
The animal stretched out nochlantly was now the shape of a Puma,its fur a sleek glossy finish,its tail twitching as if beckoning the woman to approach it,perhaps stroke it.
'How could that be'?She wondered aloud to herself,still clutching the curious book close to her chest as if a small child in need of her protection.
As if in answer to her question,the Puma got up,in one fluid movement,snarling at her menancingly,edging forward toward the bed.
Whatever she was to do she had to do now.She pushed herself slowly off the side of the bed,letting her feet dangle over the side of the bed,and slowly creeping her way towards the door,hugging the wall,breathing slow and deleberate.
The Puma does nothing but watches,then circles once and lays back down on the floor,still hissing,as though beaten,but a gracful loser.

The woman let herself out onto the landing,being careful to close the door behind her.
Peering down the long corridor,taking in the one side covered in gold frames of old Army Generals,beautiful woman and statley men.All were different cultures and nationalities,painted on hessian canavas in rich,superior colours,that was breath taking to the woman.She had seen lots of reproductions,some of them good,but nothing compared to these masterpieces.
On the other wall,was a huge tapestry,again a staggering breath-taking piece of art work depicting some battle she did not know of.Something she did notice though,there was no useage of wall paper,inhabitants here seem to cover the walls with glorious pictures that must have been very,very valuable.
Where am i?She thought to herself.
Why am i here?
So many questions,and there seemed no way of answering them-yet.
She picked her way through thre corridor,happening to look towards the ceiling,which caused her to gasp with wonnder.Her mouth formed a perfect 'o'.Instead of a ceiling there was a huge sky light spanning right across the gargantuas corridor.
The sky was a midnight blue,the crisp clarity made a refreshing change to the normal stark night sky you get at home.It was now obvious to the girl that she was a:dreaming and b:in another country.
The moon was piercing in contrast to the blue hue of the sky. 
'' What a fantastic dream,''she exlaimed loudly,shuddering with the sheer delight she felt at the beauty all around her.
She looked down at her chest,realising for the first time since she escaped from the room with the Tiger/Puma,that she was still hugging the small,red book.Her feet felt cool against the smooth, pale marble.
She brought it up to eye-level and caressed the cover lovingly.The cover felt esquisite against her long fingers and for the first time,had noticed her nails,suddenly,scarlet and had grown considerbly.She knew this because she always kept her fingers short.She worked in a little restaurant in South-East London as a chef. She had trained to be so much more but things had'nt really worked out for her.Every relationship she had ever had so far had been a failure as though something had wanted to jepodise everything.She had almost got married once,but her Fiancee had died just before their wedding,in a car crashed,the other passangers had escaped totally unharmed,in a head on collision with a huge lorry.She still had dreams about him at night.She could still picture his smiling face looking up at her,and she could remeber thinking at the time he had the eyes of a child and she had sworn,from then on,she would do all in her power to protect him,and she had failed him.She had never gotten over him,and it had happened over two years ago.She did'nt think she ever would.She still felt angry,she still felt bitter,and thats when she took the job in the small reastaurant cooking mediocre dishes when she had so much more skill and talent.Her and her husband-to-be had big ambitions to open up their own reastaurant,while he would look after the buisiness side,she was to create fantastical new dishes people would come far and wide to consume.But all that had gone up in flames,the day he had crashed,had not being able to get out in time,and he was literally 'cooked' Like a souffle.
She winced at the morbid comparsion and immediatly scolded herself for doing so.
Why did she suddenly feel so forlorn?
She glanced again at the book, and to her surprise,found it had changed to a blue satiny finish.   
Thats strange she though.Was it some kind of mood book?But there was no such thing.But this is a dream,and dreams are where the impossible are made possible,she reminded herself.
She opened the book at the inside cover,to reaveal a beautiful,although haunting poem.She wondered who the author was.The poem reads as follows;
'The screams within the night
Fill the sky with Glorious delight
Delirium to its highest light
She stands amid her own chaos
And what a beautiful sight
This woman was,(Hair of gold)
Standing among her people(As in the legends of old)
Sheer ecstacy coursing through her veins
The blood from many generations
Soak her skin
From within
Empowered by the life force
That she must take
This Pandora:Queen of the vampires,Mistress of the Night
Listen:Can you hear it?
Pandora's Lullaby
She calls to her children
To come join
The bloody massacre
In times of old
And she will Rebirth once more
A vision once more
A lover greater than before
Its the wrath human kind will have to bear
Once Pandora is here
All hell will break loose




  She closed the book again,and closed her eyes.
She had felt a sudden chill against her body even though it was a warm night.
She shuddered and put the book in close to her chest,and started to walk down the corridor,aware that this was no dream,but that there must be some reason,some perfectly resonable explanation for this.
She could imagine telling work;'er,i'm really sorry,but i somehow ended up in India!'
She laughed soundlessly,knowing that work already knew of her poor talents in inventing bona fide excuses,and they would'nt belive this.She did'nt care anyway.Maybe this was a good thing.
She must have slowly developed amnesia
and had got lost or something, and turned up here.
But if that was so,how come she remembered where she lived,her name e.t.c?
She confessed,she had no idea.
All the time she had been sumising,she had eventually reached the end of the corridor,and was now facing a huge dark walnut door,and she gasped loudly.
The door itself was a piece of art,but the intricate carvings were something else indeed.She felt overwhelmed by this ethreal beauty.
The carvings were of people,naked people to be precise,but it was not erotic in any way,it was simply beautiful.There was no other way to describe it.The men were depicted as strong,yet femine,
And the woman were just out of this world.They were like sculptures of angels,cherubic yet knowing,innocent yet provoking.As she went to grasp the breass door knob she noticed an initial scratched into the right-hand side.The intial 'P'.
' Interesting 'she though to herself,and opened the door,closing it quietly behind her.
She was stood in an immense,dark room,and,walking towards the window,yanked the curtains back,and the strong moonlight filtered through the room.She undertood now why the room had been so dark,with the red painted walls,and the gold leaf borders,top and bottom,it reminded her of one of one of those grand museums you used to visit when you were little and had a lot of time on your hands,except this was more animated.It had personality.It seemed to cry'look at me' as you enter the room.It would have made one helluva party venue,thats for sure.
Then she noticed the rows and rows of equisite books.She walked up to a nearby shelf,and,picking up a book,blowing off the excess dust and commencing then to sneeze,she opened the book,reading out aloud''Great Expectations origional works by Charles Dickens.''She quickly put the book,painfully aware of its age,respectably placing it back on the shelf,leaning against 'The Complete works of Shakespeare',and then ''wonder if this is an original too?''And she already knew.
Again,along the walls were pictures of beautiful woman,not unlike herself,of course she did'nt think that she was beautiful at all.
Again where the names below of the people this paintings were of,and she knew they were old,as one date actually read'1518' and the young woman was wearing plain clothes,beautiful long blonde hair,beautiful,soulful blue eyes,that seemed ever so sad.What was weird though,and a shame too,to spoil such a pretty face,was the horrendous scar on the left side of her face,deep and painful-looking,stretching from cheek to chin.
As she carried on walking,she felt the eyes of the young girls unpenatrable eyes upon her flawless face,as though the painting was bitter,or,more correct,the soul of the girl,as she quickly turned,and took a step,agast,the picture,upturned mouth of an unhappy girl,was now twisted into an ugly smile.The scar had completed vanished.

She hurried on,feeling all the paintings eyes upon her, until she came to the door at the other side.She grabbed it,and it swung open with a loud groan.Stepping onto the other side,she realised she was outside and she felt a pleasant,cool breeze upon her,caressing her face,neck,chest and down to her bare feet.She felt calmer,but her heart was racing.Where was everyone?Surely someone must live here,but who?And would they even help her?

She was now walking tentavely through the gardens,walking towards the middle of the lawn where she noticed an odd shape hunched over what looked like a well.She walked over,quicker now,in case it was someone in need of help.''Hello'?She called out,but the stranger did not move.
She gradually came to the spot where the figure was actually leaning over the well doing God knows what.It was an old man.She prodded him gently and the man screeched indignantly.
''Awwwwark!What you doin' what you doin' oo are you?C'mon,speak up,show yourself''.
The man had had his eyes closed to this point and then suddenly opened them wide open,and she screamed.Even in the dark she could see that the man had no eyes,just two holes where they should have been.Horrified,she backed away.Then the old man started again.

''Its you!Is'nt it you!Your'e the One.Your'e the One who's caused this!I see you now!I see your cruel beauty,your flaxon hair!You killed all those girls!It was you!Begone,Vittar's Bitch,Begone!
The old man started grabbing for her hair but could not quite catch her,she ran as fast as her long legs would carry her,tears streaming down her face.She looked back at the crazy man,who
was hunched over once more.He had not folllowed her,and she was grateful.The last thing she wanted was a little old man running after her saying those awful things.Why would he say these things.And how coud he know what i looked like.''Lucky Guess' the voice said inside me.But i suspected there was more than that to it.And i was right.

It was now morning and the woman had slept on the ground,beaneath an old tree,which was gnarled,but still very much alive,and she had felt comforted by that.When she stirred,and woke,she felt someones eyes boring into her,and she quickly got up,defences stroked,aware that the old man could have found her at any time.
'Hey!Calm down.I'm just the gardner,its ok'came a silky voice behind her,on which she instantly reacted and spun around,hair stinging her eyes,settling about her shoulders once more.
'Hi,I'm Jake' came the smooth voice once more.
It belonged to a tall,slim man,like her,in his very early twenties,dark hair,short,pale skin,and penetrating blue eyes,that looked beautiful but also very cruel.She was mesmorised by them.
 'Jake' took in the girl standing before him,placing her at around nineteen or twenty,drinking in her profile.
She mentally shook herself out of her stupor and replied'Pandora'My name's Pandora.Nice to meet you.' 




'So,what brings you to these parts,Pandora?'Jakeenbquired,head cocked like a Cocker Spaniel.
'Umm-'was all Pandora could manage.
'Um-'The boy mocked playfully-'um what'?
'I-I woke in a strange bed,in a most esquisitly decorated room-and there was a, um,tiger that changed into a-a puma?'She looked helplessly at the boy who was obviously a garder.Maybe he could shed some light on her present situation.
'You mean the house-back there?'He quickly pointed to the great house,nestled cosily between a Rowan and a willow,and it reminded Pandora of how far the house actually was from the gardens.
She nodded,bewilderdly.
'Ah,you must be one of Lord Bainley's latest conquests-I'd better leave well alone.'
'-Who-?'Came the already confused Pandora,already knowing what the guy was saying,except of course that that was not her style. 
'He's the guy that owns that place-he's loaded.He owns absoloutly everything.And he reckons he owns all the woman in the world,too-mind you,if I looked like him,and his money,I'd probaly do the same.' 
'So who's the old guy I saw by the well?'She asked guardedly.
Probaly some old tramp-dont worry about it.You ought to be more careful though,traipsing around in your nightie,people might get the wrong idea 'He added mischieviously,and for the first time,she noticed he had a muster of an irish tone to his voice.
She did'nt mention anything else about last nights aventure,she was'nt sure herself anyway,so there was no point bringing it up again.
''Maybe you should go see Aeura,down in the village'He pointed north with his free hand.
'I'd take you myself but I'm afraid I have to work-You cant miss it,its a large enough village'.
As Jake started to walk off,he turned round again'Oh Pandora'-he called,as she had begun trotting off down the grass embankment 
She swung her head around,and once more her hair whipped about her face.
'yeah'She called,a little impatiently.
'I did'nt think we had Puma's in this country.'He called,before walking away,waving as he walked the opposite way.



A strong wind had slowly but steadily worked its way through Pandoras hair,tugging annoyingly as she walked up the narrow road,after leaving the gardens through a large,iron gate that atomatically locked after she walked through,looking back at the distant figure of Jake,and the ever-present house,sandwiched between the trees,creating an illuminating shadow in the morning sun.
Leaves swirled and twirled at her feet,reminding her that she had no footwear,but amazed at the fact that the pebbles on the floor did not touch her pale,delicate feet,let alone cut them.

Before Pandora knew it,she was in the small village,named,rather aptly,Le Petite Ville-The small village,she later learnt,and after small talk with a local,was directed to a rather dishevelled looking house just on the edge of a small river,cool and sparkling in the strong,warm light.
An odd looking man welcomed her at the door,and when she accepepted the invitation to come in,she was again suprised at what stood before her..
For what strecthed out in front of her,was not at all what she had imagined.Because from the outside,the propety looked tiny,and ancient,battered.But the inside was like a totally different house altogether.In front of her was a grand staircase,carpeted in a plush red.The walls,again,covered with paintings of beautiful women all along the walls.
The strange looking man was studying her face in the time that Pandora had been drinking in the sights and smells of this fantastical house.'How can that be?'She asked herself,incredously.The man,as if reading her thoughts,said,rather suddenly:'Appearences are decieving,my child,you'll do well to remember that.Now,follow me to the parlour,and I will show you to Aerua ,who will do her best re-educate you,but not even she can peform miracles.'Th eold man nodded,clicking his heels together,and walke dthrough the spacious hallway into another room,connected by a green solid -looking door and interconnecting into what looked like the parlour.Above their heads,was a large fan wafting furiously to circulate the high heat.Pandora was dimly aware that she had not even noticed the soaring tempeture of an Indian summer,she was too busy wondering why they were expecting her when she had only just been told by Jake herself a little while where to go?Maybe hetold them, let them know,she reasoned.Course.Its rude to turned up unanouced,even if youare totally lost.
The man,who was obviously the butler,nodded again,this time towards a darf figure sat by a-a fire?
She turned round again only to find taht the butler had scarpered,and so she turned her attentin abck to the weirdo sat by the fire,transfixed by the bouncing shadows made by the firelight.
The figure in the chair suddenly swiveled round in her chair,Pandora could tell that it was female by the shape of the breasts,but apart from that,she was pretty much unreconisable,because she was so ancient,her eyes had sunken inso much they looked like holes,her cheeks were like holes,she was just one big hole.Beore Panora opened her mouth to say something,she uttered a small gasp of surprise.The old woman had a large scar down the left hand side of her face,from cheek to mouth,and she notice dthe womans smile for the first time,had she been smiling?
The woman rose,stifly at first,but surprising svelte for a woman of her age,Pandora imagining around 97,but she was in fact,closer to 516
Pandora noticed that the old womans nails were decayed and grey.
'Er,Jake told me to come here,you see-i'm lost.Do you know where I am?Can you help me maybe'?
'Ahh-Jake'The old woman spoke at last,her voice suprisingly light and youtful sounding.'My son-Did you like him?'The woman did not look directly at Pandoras and she figured that Aurea must be,in fact blind.
'Come here'The voice suddenly sounding cold and domineering.
She obeyed,bending down gently so the woman could touch her face.
''Ahh.Yes.Thats right.You are Pandora',she said,stroking her brow gently,moving dowwn her face,and then tracing an imaginary scar down the left hand cheek,trowards her mouth.Of course there was no scar on Pandora's face,only milky,cool,pale skin,and the woman pulled away abruptly,causing Pandora to jump.'Of course,you are beautiful.Your hair of fair,your skin of fair.Your eyes of the darkest blue.'The old woman whispered,touch ing Pandoras eyes briefly then pulling away.
'Jake will have adored you,thats for sure.'She exlaimed,with an old expression slapped on her face,which unerved Pandora to the core.She shivered.The woman,as though sensing this,carried on quickly. Jake has not told me anything about you,he did not need to.I ama seer.A prophet if you like.I am nearly 516 years old and I have seen many things.Jake is young.He does not know that I am his mother,he thinks she was killed when giving birth.I was too old to look after him,so Lord Bainley offered to bring him,as he had no wife,and no children,and now he is good enough to employ Jake as the garder.Jake lives now in the town past this village,and he runs a small farm,quite sucessfuly I might add..'
'Where's his father now?'Pandora asked tentatively .
'Up there,in the mansion.All by himself.'Th ewoman replied,tears rolling down her face.
Pandora,although certainly not naive,was a little confused.'-You mean Lord Bain-'
'Yes'Came the reply as though the old lady did not want her to repeat the name.
'But why are you telling me this?I need to know why I am here.'Pandora cried.This was not something she particulary wanted to hear.
'Be patient my dear.Sit comfortably because,in order for you understand,the story is long,and complicated.Be patient.It will all make sense.'The old lady shifted her weight,and settled back in her chair.
'It was a dark,wet day,and the streets were so filthy,I could see the rats scurring in amongst the rubbish.It was the year 1503 and I had been to the market for my Grandfather.I remember that I had managed to purchuse a decent-sized loaf,and a small chunk of cheese that really stank,but grandfather liked it,so I 'd buy some out of my wage each week.I was nearly 20 and I worked in a butchers,cutting up meat for my boss,cleaning up and so forth.It was a disgusting job,and I would'nt have wished it upon anyone.The meat was often rotten,and on one occassion i even found maggots in a goats head but was under strict order to rinse it in salt water,and I'd often gag.Another down side to the job was the boss himself.He was literally a pig.I didnt mean to speak ill of him but he really was.He was plump,with small eyes set deep in a round face,complete with the customery piggy nose.
His breath would smell rank,and would have turned the meat even more had it not already being spoiled,and he made me gag when he would pull himself close to me and stroke my hair,saying'good girl'good girl'.He had a wife who I had met once before,and she was a lovely,round,jolly woman,who loved nothing better than to dote on her husband.
Every night I would do my chores and hurry out as soon as I could,as the boss would come only in the morning to open up,and again at night to close up,but if a customer kept me for too long,then the boss would come and have his bit of fun.He made me sick, and one day ,as you may have expected,got his comeuppencene.One night,when he had raped me again,I got so sick of his fat body,and his disgusting hot breath scorching my flesh,I stabbed him with a meat cleaver,and cut him into tiny bits,and added him to the fresh batch of pies that I had made that day,and that it what I have been doing for the past 3 weeks,since i did the deed,going to work as normal,under the wife's instructions,while she went out every day searching for her missing husband.I wondered what she would say if I told her,I wondered,but far as I was concered,he got what he deserved,and I for one,would not miss him.



One afternoon, I was clearing down the shop, ready to finish up for the night, when a customer, dressed in a dark, hooded clock, face shadowed, entered, enquiring about the meat pie. 

The batch that I had made of my disgusting boss, had nearly been depleted, his loyal customers, ironically loving the taste, and they were renowned for the special ‘kick’ that they contained. Hm. Yes. The special ingredient of filthy pig.

I reached under the counter to retrieve the last two offerings, and glanced at the man, discreetly, from behing the safety of the glass. Taking in the man’s appearance, she knew straight away that this man was not from around here, and that he was of means.

Nervousness exuding from her as she handed the food to him, wrapping them in grease proof paper, she smiled at him. Th eman returned the smile. The shadowed exterior that the hood had leant him, shifted, and she caught a good glimpse of the man’s features. He was well-groomed. He had kind, honest, deep brown eyes, a lean face, and a mouth that promised deep kisses and sentiments of romance, to the right girl. His strong jaw line gave him a look of femininity, but only just. He was, in one word, the look of perfection.He pulled his hood down in polite response to the girl, and his hair was dark, pulled back in a neat ponytail, a few strands of hair framing his eyes and face, making her feel even more nervous, the sexual tension eating away at her.

The man gazed at the woman behind the counter, drinking in her pretty eyes, and her beautiful, plump mouth that promised hours of sensuality and velvetine caresses.

Her hair was long, blonde, curly in the romantic bohemian style. Her eyes were green, almost cat like in their striking glass-like quality.
He licked his lips aprensivly. Never before had a woman made him feel nervous. In fact, it was always the opposite. He knew his looks had women falling for him left right, and centre, but he found them boring, throwing them selves at him, ripping off their dresses, and offering themselves to him, so easily, and without chase. That was what he enjoyed most. A woman with a bit of complication, deeply woven into a soul of poetry art, and beauty. He liked to fall in love.

He took the package from her, hands briefly skim one another, but the girl pulling her hand away quickly. She didn’t want any ‘moments’ like this. She had had another of men in her short life. As far as she was concerned, men were bad, they hurt, and they were evil. She did not need love. In fact, she did not really know what love was, in a way.The truth was, she did believe in love, although she had never fallin in love, there had been boys in the past, quite a number, but she had been brought up a Catholic, and so did not believe in sex before marriage. With her beliefs and body severely violated by the most evil man she had ever known, she wanted only to protect herself, shield herself from any more pain. If her father had been alive, she could have gone to him, she had been the apple of his eye, and sse loved him so much, devesated when he succumbed to T.B. Things had been so wonderful in the old days, when she lived on the farm with him. He would have torn the man to shreds, had he known, and she was sure that everytime he had had his sick way, that her father had turned in his grave. The man thanked her.
Then, as he turned to leave, he said ‘ Does this place not leave you with unslightly memories and unnessasary pain?’

The girl just stared.

‘Oh, I know about your secret. Don’t worry, you are safe. Sometimes an evil is nessesary to justify the means. I know what he did to you. I know how sick he made you feel. You never deserved this, your beauty and kindness alone served you not in this instance. But it is not your fault. You did what yoiu had to do. And, I know you blame yourself. It is not. He was an evil man , who could not control himself. He took what he knew he could never haveand he paid the price. Lay your mind to rest, dear Rose, for you shall live yet.’

‘Oh,’ he added. ‘You’ll forgive me if I do not indulge in your fine cuisine, but I do not enjoy the other white meats!’. He laughed, and , then face serious once more, he spoke, in an even tone, his eyes ull of understanding and trust. ‘If you need a place of work, I am only too happy to help, I could really do with a maid and cook. The job is yours if you want it. Drop by my house on the twist road betwwen Roxburies Farm and the Kleine Inne.’
He smiled, and with that, he was gone.