The beauty queen, as she was, on her elegant long red gown flowing through her body like an architect of firework, all the way from her neck to her legs, carving all the curves in her body with utter just, parted on her right leg exposing a part of her plump hip, her slick skin glistening through it, blessing the crowd with a divine pleasure. Her gown blended with her red footwear below on her foot in the finest manner possible. Her slim waist dangled with every step she took, as the loveliest curves beneath accompanied, which must have been one of the most beautiful sights mankind could ever witness. Her visage seemed to be one of the finest products ever crafted by gods, each and every component accurately placed, with epitome of perfection. What could have adorned such an angelic face other than hair as beautiful as that of an angel? And she had it too. Just like an angel’s. Flowing all the way down kissing her shoulders with its tips like a stream of running water, with a tiara gleaming on her head. Maybe, she herself was, in fact, an angel.
“Beauty Queen! Beauty Queen! Beauty Queen! Beauty Queen!” and the crowd went on hailing, and the mountains continued echoing.
But there was a thing she, the Beauty Queen, lacked. The ability to perceive the voices of the outside world. A normal person would call her, deaf.
All the shouting and crying amongst the crowd on her title, even the mountains echoed, and she could hear none. A deep continuous sound kept ringing inside her head instead, as if someone had stroked a tuning fork inside her ears long ago which was still ringing. She, unaware of how loud the crowd was, how high they leaped as they shouted, how madly they loved her, kept walking on the crimson carpet without even once looking into their direction, let alone waving her hand toward them.
The sound kept ringing inside her head. It’d been so consistent since her birth that she’d gotten used to it by now. She felt that it was the realest sound possible in the world, no other sound was sound, they were all delusions, mirage, that only it was the sound meant to exist since the beginning of the evolution. The sound that only she could hear, the sound that kept her alive. She was quite not certain how it would feel if the sound suddenly died one day, or discontinued even for a little while. Would she then be able to come across the voices of the outside world? Or would she vanish along with it instead? If anything, she never wanted it to happen. The sound inside her head gave her a fuel to survive, as did the beats of her heart. The Beauty Queen she was. And the crowd was too deaf to hear the voice ringing inside her head. They’d always been oblivious to everything about her other than her beauty, which spoke so much on itself that it didn’t need to hear a thing from the bunch of morons raving over there awakening everything around that’d been in a deep sleep for ages. So much for their sleep.
As the crowd went to raving and haling her title, for they didn’t even know what her real name was, the Beauty Queen progressed toward the hall of the palace in the same gay pace, dangling her waist in the same sensual manner.
The hall of the palace was lit bright with all kind of royal lights and illuminations. A minstrel crowd awaited her inside who swallowed lumps as they witnessed her beauty. The beauty queen without stumbling even once of her gait, continued her way through the crimson carpet. Ahead, seated on the elegant huge throne furnished with golden embroidery was the pot-bellied king on his plush royal costume. His thick brown eyes sparkled as the Beauty Queen walked her way toward him. The hall was silent and lost, its mouth wide open gaping at her beauty. No one said a word, for they were not allowed to till the king himself uttered a word, and for even if they were allowed to, they were muted by her divine beauty.
The Beauty Queen stood in front of the king, looking straight at his stunned face. And as the king and the others had heard, she didn’t say a thing.
“Hmm,” the king stretched his eyes. “The Beauty Queen,” he said in his hoarse voice, “Well, you surely are one.”
The beauty queen, as quite as ever, threw a decent smile toward him.
“Thank you for coming to my little palace,” the king continued. “It’d be our delight to serve you.”
The Beauty Queen stood erect, the sound played its tone inside her head as always, accompanying her. She’d been in so many palaces in her life, she knew exactly how the routine would go now. She’d be served a royal meal, a royal hospitality, and offered a royal bed at night. And sometimes at night, the king would tip-toe into her room, and slowly crawl into her bed. She wouldn’t be saying a word or scream. The king would pluck kisses everywhere on her face in the dark. He then would fondle her glossy body, suck her firm nipples, caress all her curves in such amorous of a way that he’d caressed none of his queens or his whores before. He’d then slowly enter the Beauty Queen, and before long he came, he’d be awake in his own bed, a part of his garments soiled.
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