At first they worried the old female would do something terrible to their little suckler. However, destiny is a winding road with many twists and turns. As it turned out, the old female had an instant devotion toward Pentalope. When Pentalope's mother proved incapable of providing sufficient nourishment to sustain the infant, the old female manipulated her own totes into lactating - something thought impossible at her age. After the first feeding from her grandmother's totes, the infant, Pentalope, refused all others, even her mother's. Since this freed Pentalope's mother to continue her active, altruistic endeavors along side her husband, she harbored no ill feelings toward the child, or the grandmother. In fact, it was the perfect arrangement: Pentalope's parents fed, clothed and cleaned the old female, and she, in turn, did likewise for their only child.
So it was, the bond between Pentalope and her grandmother grew extremely strong. While other children were outside playing and learning how to interact with one another, Pentalope would be sitting at her grandmother's feet, listening to the most perverse and distorted stories concerning life and love - and sex - ever conjured by the human mind. Such stories might have sent a normal, weaker child into a fit of fear and anxiety. But, as her grandmother continually reminded her, Pentalope was no ordinary child.
"You are not like the others,” the grandmother would say. “Fate has set your destiny apart from theirs. For they are just ignorant little children and will be so their entire lives, wasting it away, like your parents. However, one day all of Nuttinnew will be enlightened to your supremacy, and you’ll hear them praising your name, seeking your wisdom, begging for your guidance - and, most importantly, groveling for your forgiveness.”
“Walk cautiously, Special One. Don't allow yourself to become complacent among the stupidity of others. For they wallow about in the sticky goo of their own lives, and if you get too close, you too will be stuck to the earth, never to ascend to your rightful place among the stars. Trust in the strength of your uniqueness, even in your darkest hours, for your destiny is such that, if you cannot go among the stars, the stars will come to you. I see in your eyes that you don’t yet understand my meaning. That’s alright. When your time comes, you will know the truth of my words. So, even now, you must begin to prepare for your time of glory.”
“Listen carefully, Special One, and I will tell you all I have learned throughout my long and miserable existence, so you may remember, and never be cursed to follow my lot. First, never trust anyone - and, for Veget's sake, never fall into that Fate-forsaken pit those fools call love. Second,...”
Pentalope's developing personality incorporated every trepidation her bitter, old grandmother bestowed upon her. Then, two days before Pentalope's seventh birthday, the disgruntled old female woke up one morning feeling ill unto death. By sundown, she was dead. Although Pentalope felt shattered by the loss, she sensed her parents relief - jubilation even, which was proof enough to her that her grandmother had been right all along. No one could be trusted, not even one's parents. From that day forth the words "I love you" never again passed from Pentalope's lips.
These thoughts, however, were not what filled Pentalope's mind as she sneered through the window toward the well. "Where the whole truth fails, a half-truth will suffice,” she thought aloud, quoting her deceased grandmother. A plan had unfolded in her mind.
She would need others to set the half-truth into motion. Who could she trust? No one! Who then could she subjugate? Several people came to mind. Many had been totally awestruck by her grandstanding at the well. She didn’t need many to be in her elite group - only a dozen or so. Any more would be unmanageable. There would be too great a chance someone might start to think for themselves, and that would never do.
No, she needed followers who were not just awestruck, but who were stricken into near worship by the power of her very essence. For she was sure that the otherwise spineless human creatures would do anything to have just an ounce of such power in their lives. For these chosen ones, she would create an illusion of personal power, so they might feel the exhilaration of lording over their un-chosen neighbors.
However, she would never leave any doubt in their minds that she was the sole source of their power, which could be stripped from them in the burst of a puff with just the snap of her fingers.
Her mental list quickly narrowed to twelve individuals. She picked five childless married couples and two never-been-married females. She chose couples because Pentalope believed a house divided is a house in ruin. She chose childless couples because she knew how demanding and time consuming those obnoxious little creatures could be, and she wanted - no demanded - their complete devotion to herself.
She picked the two unmarried females because one of them was Fleetra Frump, her seamstress and housekeeper with whom she already had a special relationship.
More than once Fleetra had stroked Pentalope's body with incidental caresses as she fitted her into a new pullover. More than once Pentalope had paraded about Center House naked while Fleetra performed her chores. More than once, Pentalope knew such exhibitionistic behavior excited the young female, but wasn’t sure why. For although Pentalope had a high opinion of her abilities, she cursed the scrawny irregularity of her own physique.
Why Fleetra, who was so beautiful, so perfect, should be excited by seeing her slim bones, remained a mystery, even to her, thus, making it all the more intriguing, even intoxicating. Lately, Pentalope would purposely put on a pullover just as soon as Fleetra arrived at Center House, giving her only a fleeting glimpse of her nakedness. This inevitably flustered Fleetra, often to the point of torment.
In this simple, singular act Pentalope discovered the exotic feeling of erotic power - a power which transcended sex and even life itself, filling her sense of superiority; much like that she was feeling this morning as she made her way from Center House to the hut of the first couple chosen to become members of her elite group - her ambassadors.
The sun was not yet visible over the sleepy, rolling hills surrounding Nuttinnew, when Pentalope barged into the hut of Kudjer and Penca Aaches.
"Wake up! Wake up!” Pentalope commanded as she yanked the covers from their cot, scattering the pieces piled between them all about the room. Then she sprang onto the foot of their cot and spread her arms like a magnificent bird in flight. The mantle of pieces hung from the length of the sleeves and draped to the narrow of her waist, then cascaded full-length to her feet. It was a most awe-inspiring sight to see. The figure towering over them was just too - well, just too - that's all. So much so, the Aaches momentarily forgot all about their precious pieces.
Glittering beads of light danced all about the room as the pieces sewn onto the magnificent mantle appeared to reflect the early morning sunlight in every direction. However, there was no sunlight creeping through the sleeping room window. Where then was the light coming from? From the pieces themselves? Before either had time to ponder the matter, Pentalope began to speak in a deep, ominous voice.
"You two I have chosen for a most essential mission. One which will make you the talk of the town, the envy of everyone you know. Even those you don’t know will know you and uphold you in awe. Quickly now, off your cot, and meet me at Growing Rock. Be swift! Or remain one of the un-chosen. ‘Your destiny is in your own hands. Whether it rises or falls depends upon how vigorously you stroke it.’ (Again, quoting her deceased grandmother.) I have others to awaken to their calling. Hurry! Be swift!”
Pentalope spun around on her heels and glided off the cot and out the door. It was only then that Kudjer and Penca noticed it: one of them had wet the cot, so much so that both were drenched. From that moment hence, whenever they had even the slightest disagreement between them the one losing the argument would invariably accuse the other of having been the cot wetter.
Pentalope proceeded to the other four huts of the married selectees. In each, she made similar pronouncements and, perhaps unremarkably, received pretty much the same response. When she came to the hut of the two females, she first plac
ed her ear to the front door and listened for sounds within. Hearing none, she slowly opened the door, then silently crept through the eating room to the narrow hallway, leading to the sleeping rooms.
The hut in which Pentalope had intruded belonged to Fleetra, her seamstress/servant. It was where she was birthed and raised. Being an only child and having never married, the hut automatically became hers when her parents died.
Even without light to see, Pentalope could tell the eating room was quite filthy, not at all kept to the same immaculate standard she required of Fleetra in Center House. Pentalope could only surmise, the responsibility for the upkeep of her own huthold was left to that other female, Mardrith, for whom Pentalope had always held low regard.
Finding the door to the first sleeping room lightly ajar, Pentalope peaked in and knew immediately it was Fleetra's room, for she recognized her seamstress’ specially embroidered pullover laying neatly over the exposed end of the sleeping cot within. Slowly, Pentalope pushed the door further open until she could see nearly half of the cot. As she suspected, it was vacant.
Something gripped Pentalope's mind and she spun around half expecting Fleetra to be standing right behind her, but she saw no one. Turning back toward the cot, she saw that, although it was neatly made, it was covered with a thin layer of dust, as if it had not been used in some time. A few steps down the hall to the right was the open privy door. Pentalope listened for sounds, but heard none, so she edged her way toward the door and gingerly looked in. It, too, was empty.
Then Pentalope gasped as the sound of movement filled her ears. It was quickly followed by a low groan, followed by a higher pitched squeal riding on the rhythm of a sleepy giggle. All these sounds came from one place - the sleeping room at the far end of the hall.
Startled, Pentalope, quickly retreated back down the hall to the eating room. There she paused and listened for more sounds of movement, but the only sounds to fill her ears were those of heavy breathing mingled with an occasional soft snore.
"By Veget!” Pentalope cursed under her breath. "Even Fleetra’s snoring has a pleasant aura about it.” The flame of jealousy returned Pentalope to her more brazen self. Boldly she strutted back down the hallway to the far sleeping room door.
This door, too, was partially open, but when she peeped in she could only see a small dressing table upon which were stationed a large water pitcher and a deep washing bowl. On the floor, immediately in front of the table, lay two crumpled sleeping gowns. Pentalope edged forward. Her heart was pounding faster and harder than it ever had before. She was sure all Nuttinnew could hear it.
Not being one who willfully allowed herself to engage in uncontrolled events, she discovered her present activity had its own reward. In fact, the mixture of fear, power and illicit activity exhilarated her to a new sense of persona, which could only be described as ‘evil’ - and she reveled in it.
Pentalope’s motives, however, were not merely for the ensuing thrill. She had more sinister, long term machinations for stealing into someone else's private chambers. She knew Fleetra would do her bidding, but Mardrith would never concede of her own volition. Yet, without Mardrith under heel, she would never truly control Fleetra. Of this, she was certain. “A hut divided....”
Pentalope steadied herself against the door jam and bent forward slightly and peered around the partially opened door. The foot of the sleeping cot came into view. On it were four young, bare, well-developed, female legs, entwined in the same direction, facing away from her. She eased forward a little more, bumping the door which responded with a low grown. Pentalope held her breath. She really didn’t want to be discovered. Her intent was far more devious.
As she looked in, the morning light began to slip through a slit in the drawn window coverings, revealing in full exposure the inhabitants of the room. Fleetra and her cousin, Mardrith were lying together, on the same cot - naked, with Mardrith's body cupped around Fleetra's as a mother might cup her body around a small child to protect it and give it the comfort of security.
A most wicked emotion filled Pentalope's heart. What she (and everyone else) had suspected was true. She was witnessing it with her own two eyes. The two cousins, were in fact, lovers. Now confirmed, this knowledge fit well into Pentalope's plan. Quickly, she turned and bolted down the hall. Her mantle briefly snagged on something, but freed itself quickly. Pentalope gave it no thought. She had much to do this morning, and this little side adventure, though most worthwhile, was taking her longer than she had expected.
Once outside the hut she pulled the door closed and a rush of sadistic pleasure flooded her being. Purposely, she pounded on the door just loud enough to startle the inhabitants within from their complacency. Bang! Bang! Bang! Then, to incite further torment, she paused just long enough for both of them to come to the mortifying realization, that there actually was some unknown person at their door, daring to intrude upon the sanctity of their solitude.
The very thought of their chagrin caused Pentalope’s own heart to pound feverishly. This she translated into a violent pounding of her fists against the door, one, two, and three times more, causing it to rattle on its hinges. Satisfied with her efforts, she silently waited and listened for the expected rustle of commotion within. She wasn’t disappointed.
Hushed voices hissed amongst the sounds of frantic activity. A sadistic glee filled Pentalope's soul, as she pounded a third triad on the hut door. She could only imagine the panic racing through the veins of the disheveled females, as they frantically slipped into their sleeping gowns to keep their secret hidden from the intruder without. Eventually, the door eased open, revealing a partial glimpse of Fleetra's face.
"Mayor?” she gasped. Pentalope Pulpitt was the last person Fleetra expected to see at her door. She flushed with embarrassment. She felt a mess. She was a mess. Her hair was tangled and drenched in sweat. Her flesh was covered with the red blotches of physical contact. Her mouth felt swollen and bruised. The strap of her sleeping gown slipped off her exposed shivering shoulder, drawing attention to the fact that in her rush at pretense, Fleetra was wearing it inside out and backwards.
Delighted by all this, a tormenting sneer formed on Pentalope’s lips. But rather than dwelling on it, she spewed forth the same urgent message she had delivered to the others. Except in this instance, she announced it more like a command than the presentation of an opportunity. This demanding manner didn't bother Fleetra in the least. She was quite accustomed to being ordered about by the mayor. However, it did perplex her when she demanded Mardrith’s presence, as well, at the early morning meeting.
"Er, Mardrith, too?” Fleetra questioned, hesitantly. "I - I don't know if she wants to ... er, can make the meeting. I believe she’s still in her sleeping room ... uh, sleeping. I - I'll check."
Pentalope's nostrils flared at the lack of immediate compliance, especially since she knew the excuse was a ruse. "Just who does this little Miss Perfect think she is talking to?" Pentalope thought, as a reassured confidence filled her face. Slowly, she leaned her face toward Fleetra's.
The young female first thought she was going to whisper something in her ear. Then a chill shivered down Fleetra's back as Pentalope's cheek came so close to her own, she could feel their tiny facial hairs touch. To Fleetra's surprise, Pentalope said nothing. She just took two deep sniffs. It was only then Fleetra realized a foreign odor radiated from her body. It was Mardrith’s private scent.
Fleetra's knees began shaking so violently, she had to steady herself against the door. “Did Pentalope know? Could she tell? Would she tell?” Fleetra felt Pentalope pull her head back slowly. A most-knowingly wicked smile adorned her face.
"Oh, Veget!” Fleetra moaned in her heart as her tortured mind raced on. "What would Pentalope do? Would she have them called out and condemned before the whole town? What would happen to them if their private relationship was publicly revealed and ridiculed? Fleetra didn’t know if she could bear face-to-face ridicule. That which was said behind their backs w
as hurtful enough. Would Mardrith be made to live somewhere else? No, oh no, not that! She'd rather be banished together and die together in Nocomback, than stay in Nuttinnew and be forced to be apart. Surely, beneath the mayor's cold, calculated exterior there beat a warm, female heart. Surely Pentalope had some compassion for her. “Oh, Mardrith, Mardrith what is to become of us?” her heart cried out in a roar of mental silence.
Pentalope lavished in the look of confused terror frozen on Fleetra's face. She loved the bulging of her glazed eyes, the uncontrollable trembling in the corners of her mouth, and the engorged blood vessel pulsating over her one visible temple. These somewhat diminished Fleetra’s natural beauty, and this, too, pleased her very much.
Reaching out, Pentalope hooked the fallen sleeping gown strap with one long, spindly finger, then commenced to fiddle with it, as if to position it back on her shoulder just right. Fleetra was shaking so hard now, she could barely stand even with the support of the door. She was sure she would collapse to the hut floor if she even dared look into Pentalope’s face, so she kept her head bowed.
Looking down, she could see her totes rise and fall beneath the thin gown, as her chest heaved with a combination of fear and excitement. She closed her eyes hoping when she opened them again, all this would have only been one more unpleasant night vision. Pentalope’s voice in her ears diminished that hope. Yielding to her will, Fleetra eyes rose to meet the mayor’s.
"Oh, I'm sure your ... uh ... cousin, will be more than happy to join us in our endeavor to save our beloved little town of Nuttinnew from those eastern rebels who have set out to destroy it. If she isn’t? I'm afraid ... oh, how can I put this delicately? Dear Fleetra, certain rumors have been going around, and I ... well ... I might not be able to help the people of Nuttinnew accept these certain things, if I don’t have the power to guide them to to the right conslusions.” Pentalope winked.
A wink! Fleetra felt her body shudder beneath its shaking.
Pieces: Book One, The Rending Page 25