The Romantic Storm

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky and the romantic engagement thrilled the heavens displaying loving joy.

“Prince Benjamin,” an old lady called out from the flat, “where are you going at this hour?”

“Your majesty I am going to fly my kite,” he shouted back.

Off in the distance two gossiping neighbors Mildred and Gladys were talking trash, “I bet you one hundred pounds that Prince Benjamin gets a little jolt around the witching hour.”

“I will take that wager and raise you one single George Hamilton that he gets away with whatever he is trying to accomplish,”

Not paying any attention, Prince Benjamin carried on taking his paper glider into the woods searching for an open field. Upon arrival the pitch-black setting did not offer any guiding light and the royal seemed unaware of the surroundings.

“I may be totally in the dark on many things but what I do know is when the purple clouds dance with the sky something is going on,” Prince Benjamin thought to himself unspooling the special string before applying the line to the child like toy.

Holding the triangle flying apparatus, the prince peered into its thin tissue fabric, “now Kitty I want you to go up there and check out what is going on,”

“I have attached this metal key to unlock any Pandora Box's doors you may need to open.”

Suddenly, a mystical gust came through the area revealing a lady’s face on the simple airborne device, “yes, my Prince, but I would feel better if you refer to me as Miss Hawk,”

“Fine,” the prince responded releasing her to endure the mission.

As the kite climbed Prince Benjamin kept loosening his grip. Soon Kitty found herself in the middle, on one side the purple clouds and the other the blushing sky.

Observing the action, she noticed puffiness having thunderous potential and its canvas ready to take on any commitment forced upon the galactic backdrop.

“Would you like to take my hand?” Requested the purple clouds.

“Certainly,” the sky agreed, and the wind picked up letting the two waltz around breezing to the outdoor melody.

Kitty did not know what to do, she has not seen this much choreographed precision since a Bahamian vacation. “I must find out what this is,” she exclaimed grabbing the key.

From out of nowhere a bolt of lightning flashed striking Kitty transitioning her into a fireball. Prince Benjamin, who was grounded, felt the spark and collapsed.

Soon the sun entered the picture and the two neighbors decided to walk their corgis, coming across a charred sleeping Prince Benjamin, “look it here Gladys, you owe me one hundred pounds,” Mildred reported.

“What do you mean?” Gladys took a second look, “the prince went out late last night and got burned.”

“Stuck his nose into a relationship created by the almighty.” Mildred concluded.

Slowly opening his eyes Prince Benjamin asked, “what happened?”

“My dear,” Gladys started.

“You went metaling in someone’s affair and got torched,” Mildred finished.

“To a bloody crisp,” Gladys added.

“Oh, where is Miss Hawk?”

Answering Prince Benjamin’s plea Mildred and Gladys uncovered the plastic tube then started to reel in the contents,

“Oh, lookie here,” Mildred started.

“It reminds me of what I pulled out from the oven for my husband’s dinner, last night,” Gladys finished.

“Gladys, I told you not to put it in for that long,”

Standing up Prince Benjamin inspected the remains, “oh my poor Miss Hawk, I am so sorry to push you into that stormy plight.”

“That is all right,” Kitty’s final words rendered before turning fully into ashes.

Feeling helpful, Gladys and Mildred escorted Prince Benjamin back home and gave him reasoning about the horrible events. Standing next to the porch Mildred offered advice,

“Next time let Francis Scott handle the keys,” she said.

“Yeah, he has a way with words when two warring factions are fighting,” Gladys completed the poetic lesson.