Epilogue: A Story after a Tale

1994 A.D.

A black limousine stopped in front a grand structure, visibly exuding the refinement of form and stylistic bravado passed down by the rich architecture of the Greeks. The chauffeur was quick to open its door to a young lady, bowing slightly in courtesy as he raised his right arm towards the propylaeum of the edifice. The lady alighted from the vehicle gracefully, bringing her red stilettos out first, securing her base on the pavement, followed by her white panama hat. She wore  wayfarer sunglasses and a dark mini velvet dress hugged her slim physique.

“Thank you.” She smiled at the man. “Here.” She pulled out a few notes from her bedazzled purse and handed it to him, to which the man willingly accepted. Not waiting for his response, she took her leave and walked directly to the building.

“Wait!”

She turned her head to the direction of the loud call, only to see the chauffer, now panting beside her. “You gave me a hundred bucks more.” He rubbed the back of his neck, handing the bill to her whilst still catching his breath.

The modelesque woman turned her body towards the man, removed her sunglasses, and with an angelic smile flashed on her face said, “Your tip.” With a slight nod, she turns her back and continues her stride, leaving a flabbergasted but extremely grateful old man, teary eyed, as if he had just met an angel.

Paintings from all over the world welcomed the young lady as she stepped inside the wide vestible. Intricate patterns in framed canvasses adorned the walls of the renowned establishment, while marble and granite sculptures of distinguished artists decorated its halls.

The building was filled with not just celebrated art pieces but of rare ancient artifacts yet to be revealed to the general public. It was, indeed, a very distinguished museum that locals and even tourists from different parts of the world can’t do without visiting as it grandly displays varied cultures at its finest.

The young lady strode its halls paying little attention to the greatness of the displays and its cultural and artistic significance, not until she reached the point of her interest—the reason for her visit.

On one side of the expansive exhibit hall was a huge glass box, a set of velvet-covered rope lined its parameters, forbidding close contact to the contained artifact. Inside the glass was a tall metal figure covered in what seems like very thick ice. A small crowd gathered around the bizarre exhibit whilst a woman, wearing a sash with a ‘TOURIST GUIDE’ printed on it, was in front.

“Ladies and Gentlemen. Behold this magnificent artifact. This is the newest spectacle of the museum. It was recently excavated from the deepest part of the Arctic. It was named ‘The Iron Maiden’ as it, too, resembles the infamous torture device originating from Nuremberg, Germany.

“As you can see, the metal figure inside is completely covered by a layer of very thick transparent material which looks very much like ice, hence it being called ‘ice’.

“This ‘ice’ is mysteriously too dense that any blade couldn’t even scratch it, more so, crack it. Even the highest temperature attainable, combined with controlled pressure couldn’t melt the slightest of it. Experts had tried various methods known to man, but have yet to succeed.

“Therefore, they had just decided to keep it in its excavated state for this momentary display, in view of the national museum’s centennial anniversary. The sponsor was, indeed, too kind to let us have the privilege of viewing this remarkable piece in its raw state, whilst still being under research.” She breathed out enthusiastically, ending her presentation. “Now, to our next piece—”

The people dispersed as some followed the tour guide while others went on their own way. The young lady wearing the velvet dress remained standing in front of the glass box.

“It’s been a long time.” She muttered. “How are you, dear cousin? Getting cold?” She chuckled at her well rounded pun.

She stepped forward, nearer to the glass, meticulously eyeing the ‘Iron Maiden’ and its enclosure, until her attention shifted to something thoroughly unexpected.

At the base behind the glass box, in a space that can easily be overlooked was... a mini tetra pack of strawberry yoghurt, in very close proximity to what seems like a pack of cookies.

Her eyebrow rose. “Free food?” Her expression brightened. “Oooh! Is this my lucky day?” She bent down and reached out to take the snacks from the nook while her eyesight scanned from left to right making sure that no one saw.  The pack on hand, she tore the crisp plastic wrapper open and bit a cookie to taste.

“Hmmm. Chocolate cookies are the greatest invention of huma—Ooooooooooowwwwww” The cookie fell on the floor, crumbling on impact, as she hastily clutched her leg. “Ah! Ah! Aaaaaah!” She bit her lower lip as she writhed in pain, feeling her shin burning. It felt like it broke.

“Thief!” yelled by a little girl with a one-sided ponytail wearing a blue patterned jumper, a walking stick held firmly by both her hands.

“What the?!” The lady straightened her back hastily. “I’m no thief! Why did you hit me? You, brat!”

“I’m not a brat, and you stole my sister’s cookies!” She crossed her arms and scowled. “What are you going to say to that,