Authors note: This is more fantasy then actually historical. So, ya know....Its just a fun story.
Rated M. More 1602 action...DC 1602: The Dark Knight.
Pamela felt like she was in heaven. This part of the forest was so beautiful. One of the older trees had finally let go and fallen over, letting in a warm pool of sunlight, Flowers that had struggled to live earlier were now thriving, and new flowers had sprouted up almost over night. She gently touched one petal, then caressed a leaf lovingly with her thumb. She could almost feel their delight, as they absorbed the life giving rays. Oh what she wouldn't give to just lie here in the sun, to peel off this hot dress and just soak up the sunlight....
"Isley! I didn't buy you so that you could lollygag about in the flowers!" Dr Woodrue said shrilly, his eyes fairly bulged from his head. "Do you have the mushroom samples I sent you out here for!?"
The man was filthy. And more then a little rank. He had been in his lab for the last few days working on.... something. So it was possible that things like personal hygiene had escaped him. Pamela herself believed he simply detested being clean.
"It... I was about to but then I saw these flowers, and they are so beautiful to look--"
Dr. Woodrue backhanded her across the face, knocking her to the ground. She licked at her trembling lip and tasted blood. She knew from past experience that speaking or getting up would infuriate him even more. "Beauty!!" He screamed, "Is a mask! Its a pretty wrapper for simple minds. Minds like yours Isley! Great minds of science rip away the mask and stare into the face of God! But you, You are as useless as these flowers." He began to stomp the delicate blue flowers, crushing them beneath his boots. As she watched those helpless flowers suffer, something in Pamela snapped. She had never even raised her voice to Dr. Woodrue, let alone her hand. But she couldn't just sit here and watch this.
"Stop it! You're hurting them!" She cried as she leaped at Woodrue, beating her fists on his shoulders and back.
"Rrrrrrragh" He snarled. Then grabbed her face, and shoved her to the ground again. "You would dare? Your insolence shall be punished!" Wham! He kicked her in the stomach. "This is your place Isley, On the ground..." Wham! "Looking up into the face of greatness!" Wham! "Greatness you will never know!" He finally seemed to tire out. "Get the mushroom samples to me within this hour." He stomped away, leaving Pamela gasping for breath and crying.
* * *
Woodrue's lab was a dirty home in the woods, littered about with various dead plants, many of them toxic. Woodrue was convinced that immortality could be coaxed from the right combination of plant extracts. The many dead rats, moldering to the bottom of their cages however, suggested he had not yet happened upon the secret to immortality.
"Of course it doesn't work. Why would it work on rats?" He scratched at his patchy beard, talking to no one. Rat testing, that had been her idea. She had been holding him back from the start! It was time for human tests to begin. And he was long, long overdue to get some use out of that sniveling little brat. Dying in the pursuit of science was a better death then she deserved, but there was nothing for it. Either she would be the breakthrough he needed, or he would be rid of her. Either way he came out on top.
* * *
Pamela staggered back to Woodrue's lab an hour later, clutching her bruised stomach, and willing herself not to throw up again. Her stomach was still convulsing slightly, and she was very late. But she had the mushrooms, so maybe she wouldn't be beaten too badly.
"About time you came back. I thought you were going to nap in that forest all day!" Woodrue grunted from a crude, handmade table, where something in a bowl hissed and bubbled. "Pamela, I need you over here." He snapped his fingers impatiently. She hurried to his side, despite the protests from her side. Something was wrong... he had never called her Pamela before.
"Here are the mushrooms--"
"Yes yes. Perhaps you're not completely incompetent. I have a new task even you can't get wrong," He pushed the bowl towards her, "Drink this." Pamela searched his face for the hint of a smile, or some other indication that Dr. Woodrue had developed a sense of humor. But no, his lips wore the same hard line they always did, and his eyes were blank, devoid of any gleeful shine. He was serious. He really expected her to drink this toxic brew.
"Uh... what happened to rat testing? I think you're, um, real close to getting it right doctor." She backed away from the table slowly.
"Closer then you know my dear." He suddenly grabbed her by the throat, and forced her back against the table. "Science requires sacrifice, are you ready to do your part?" He clenched her jaw, forcing her mouth open. With his other hand he poured the concoction in her mouth, spilling it down her front, and even on himself, as she thrashed and tried to scream, choking.
He leaned over her, brushing aside a stray hair off her face, and tossed the empty bowl aside, where it shattered against a wall. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" He actually smiled.
Her answer is spitting a mouthful of the brew into his face. "Aaaaaah, It burns!" He wiped desperately at his eyes. "Isley!" He swung his arms blindly, trying to find her, knocking over an oil lamp which explodes on the floor. Pamela's throat started seizing, and the room fairly well spun, but she knew she had to escape before the fire took the whole place.
As she fled into the forest, she thought she heard him screaming as he burned. It was a terrible sound....
* * *
"Where, where am I?" Pamela asked. Or thought.
"You've been brought to a higher realm. Your mortal body is dying." Someone replied with authority. "I am Gaia, Goddess of the earthy realm. I have use for you." The voice paused, as if waiting for questions.
"Okay, why me? And what use?"
"You have shown to have a heart for all things green, this makes you unique among humans. I cannot make you a Vessel of the Green, as you were not predestined. I can make you a guardian of it though. I will imbue you with some of my power, to be used in the service of the Green. Do you accept this power?"
"What is the Green?"
"The Green is the life force of all plant life on earth. It is vast source of power, but also delicate. It needs earthly protection."
"Goddess, I humbly accept this responsibility."
* * *
Pamela awoke in the forest where she had fallen the night before, not far from the charred remains of Woodrue's former lab. She breathed deeply, feeling a new sense open inside her. She tapped into this sense, and felt the grass growing, felt the flowers opening to receive the sunlight, felt the decades old patience from the trees. She reached toward a flower which, to her surprise, leaned into her hand like an kitten, eager for attention. She is also mildly surprised to see her skin has become a lovely shade of green. She stood up, and ripped away her hot, scratchy dress. She would never dress in the way men demanded again.
"Come here baby." She cooed to a vine with suitably sized leaves. It required very little imagination to coax the vine plant into a garment of sorts. Concealing enough to be modest, but still allowing the life giving sunlight to bath her green skin.
She felt, different. Stronger, more confident. No man would ever sell her, or hit her, or even look at her funny again.
But, before she could start her new life, she had to bury the old one. Woodrue's remains were a blackened, twisted mess. In death his mouth had retracted in to a hideous grin, like he knew some great secret. She no longer feared this man. Or what was left of him. Still, she was loath to touch him. Planting a seed from her outfit, she willed a large, strong vine to grow up, and lift Woodrue's remains. Two vine offshoots parted the ground, more of a ditch then a grave. But it would suffice. She willed the grass to grow over his grave, then happily disappeared into the forest.
* * *
The full moon shone brightly over the grave of the madman, and a slight wind blew over once, then fled away. The earth heaved gently as something pushed from beneath. A dirty, green, misshapen hand broke through the surface...."ISLEY!!!