The White Lady

Through the window pane, blurred it may be for my eyes, I watch her. Tall, dressed elegantly in white from head to foot. Her hood is pulled slightly back revealing blond hair. Her fight was short, and her opponent left lying limp on the bars of steel supporting the bridge.

The White Lady enters the room where I am. I remain motionless, silent, observing everything. She sits at a table, a man to her left and another one opposite, though I cannot see his face. No speech between them. She lowers her head, removing her white hood. Powerful she is, but submissive to him. Standing behind her, he places his hands on either side of her head, squeezing a red object with a yellow tip from her right eye. The eye pops out, landing onto the table in front of her. The man continues by placing a small object into where her eye once was.

Following this act, I observe him retrieving a fork from his comrade, placing it into his mouth and removing his own tongue. The aroma of new smells dances around the room. I’m not sure what happens next due to the overwhelming of my senses, but whatever they are doing ends with the White Lady rising from her seat.

Pulling the hood once more over her blond hair, she exits, retreating her steps onto the steel bridge. The other has awakened, waiting for her. Her green robe flows to the ground and a flash of fury lights her eyes. The White Lady, elegant and graceful, moves in her direction. Raising her palm level with her full lips, she blows gently, lifting her opponent, cascading her out of my sight. I continue watching, motionless and in awe. The White Lady, Itors by name, disappears before my eyes. How do I know of this? This world around me is strange, bewildering and wild. They do not know of my existence. In this form, I’m but a fly on a window pane, inhabiting a world of giants.

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