HEY! Unfortunately, this is not 100% my story. Some of the wording and the entire plot belongs to Frank. R Stockton. I just dumbed it down a little so it would be easier for myself and some of you readers out there to understand! HAHA. JK you guys are incredible.
Ok, so All Rights go to Frank R. Stockton and I do not own Kickin' It.
I hope you enjoy my dumbed down version of The Lady or The Tiger! :)
Title- The Lady or The Tiger?
Summary- If the love of your life was wrongly accused and you could only give him death or a new wife by the flick of a wrist, which would you choose? Based off of the short story by Frank R. Stockton.
Pairing- Jack/Kim
Rating- K+
THE LADY OR THE TIGER
In the very olden time, there lived a semibarbaric king, whose ideas, though somewhat polished and sharpened by the progressiveness of distant Latin neighbors, were still large, florid and not controlled, as became half of him which was barbaric. He was a man of exuberant fancy, and, an addition of an authority so irresistible that, at his will, he turned his varied fancies into facts. He was greatly given to self-communing; and when he and himself agreed upon anything, the thing was done. When every member of his domestic and political systems moved smoothly in its appointed course, his nature was bland and cheerful; but whenever there was a little hitch, and some of his orbs got out of their orbits, he was blander and more cheerful still, for nothing pleased him so much as to make the crooked straight, and crush down uneven places.
Among the borrowed notions by which his barbarism had become split in half was that of the public arena, in which, by exhibitions of manly and beastly valor, the minds of his subjects were refined and cultured.
But even here the exuberant and barbaric fancy asserted itself. The arena of the king was built, not to give the people and opportunity of bearing the screams of dying gladiators, not to enable them to view the horrible conclusion of a conflict between religious opinions and hungry jaws, but for purposes far better adapted to widen and develop the mental energies of people. The vast theater, with its majestic galleries, its mysterious vaults, and its hidden passages, was an agent of poetic justice, in which crime was punished, or innocence was rewarded, by the decrees of a unbiased and lucky chance.
When a victim was accused of a crime of significant proportions to interest the king, the notice was received by the public that on an announced day, the fate of the victim would be decided in the barbaric king's arena – a structure which well deserved its name; for, although its form and plan were borrowed from that of the Roman Coliseum, its purpose emanated solely from the brain of the man who began the tradition to which he owed more loyalty than pleased his fancy, and who engrafted on every adopted form of human thought and action the rich growth of his barbaric idealism.
When all the people had assembled in the arena, and the king surrounded by his court, sat high up on his throne of royal state on one side of the arena, he gave a signal, a door beneath him opened, and the victim stepped out into the amphitheater. Directly opposite of him, on the other side of the enclosed space, sat two doors, each exactly alike and side by side. It was the duty of the person on trial to walk directly to the doors and open one of them. He could open either door he pleased: He was subject to no guidance or influence but that of the impartial chance. If he opened the one, a hungry tiger would appear, the fiercest most cruel that could be received, which immediately sprang at him and ripped him to shreds as a punishment for his guilt. The other moment that the case of the criminal was decided and iron bells were rung, great wails went up from the hired mourners and the audience with bowed heads and downcast hearts slowly headed home, mourning greatly that one so young and fair, or so old and respected, should have died in such a terrible way.
But, if the victim opened the other door, there came from it a lady; the most suitable to his years. And to this lady, he was immediately married, as a reward of his innocence. It mattered not that he might already have a wife and family, or that his love might be in the hands of another woman: The king allowed no such arrangements to interfere with his great and wildly known tradition. The exercises, as in the other instance, took place immediately and in the arena. Another door opened beneath the king, and a priest, followed by a chorus advanced to the pair stood, side by side; and the wedding was promptly complete. Then, happy brass bells rang, people cheered happily, and the innocent man led his bride to his home.
This was the king's semibarbaric method of administering justice. Its perfect fairness is obvious. The criminal could not know which door would hold the lady. He opened either he pleased without having the slightest idea whether, in the next moment, he was to be devoured or married. On some occasions, the tiger came out of one door, and on other occasions, the other. The decisions were not only fair, the were positively FINAL. The accused person was instantly punished if he found himself guilty and, if innocent, rewarded on the spot, whether he liked it or not. There was no escape from the judgment made in the king's arena.
The tradition was a very popular one. When the people gathered together on one of the great trial days, they never knew whether they were going to witness a bloody slaughter or an enjoyable wedding ceremony. The element of surprise led to an interest to the occasion which it could not otherwise have attained. So, the masses were entertained and pleased, the thinking part of the community could bring no charge of unfairness against this plan; because, didn't the accused person hold HIS fate in HIS hands?
Now, this semibarbaric king had a daughter as beautiful as him most favored flowers. Kimberly was her name. Kimberly Crawford named after her dear grandmother. She had a soul as passionate and arrogant as his own. As in usual cases, she was the apple to his eye and was loved by him above all humanity. Among his staff was a young man, Jackson, or better known as Jack, of that fitness and blood. The two were in love. The royal maiden was well satisfied with her lover, for he was handsome and brave to such a degree that he had been made head soldier by the age of only fifteen, and she loved him with all her heart. This love affair continued on happily for several months until one day, the king happened to discover its existence. He did not hesitate to continue with the traditional gladiator ceremony-slash-trial at his beloved arena. Jackson was immediately thrown into prison and a day was assigned for his trial in the king's arena. This, of course, was an especially important occasion, his majesty, as well as all the people, was greatly interested in the development of this trial. Never before had such a case occurred; never before had the victim dared to love the Kimberly Crawford.
The tiger cages of the kingdom were searched for the most savage and relentless beasts, from which only the fiercest monster might be selected for this particular trial. The ranks of the maiden beauty throughout the land were carefully observed by judges, in order for Jack to have a fitting bride in case fate did not determine him guilty. Of course, everybody knew that Jack and princess Kimberly were in love and neither he, she or anyone else even thought of denying the fact. But the king would not think of allowing his own daughter to be the prize won to Sir Jackson if he did choose the door. No matter how the affair turned out, the young man would be disposed of; and the king would never allow Kimberly to even leave her bedroom.
The appointed day arrived. From far and near, people gathered, and awed at the great galleries of the arena; and crowds unable to gain entrance, massed themselves up against the theater's outer walls. The king and his court were in their places, opposite the twin doors – those fateful portals, so terrible in their similarity.
All was ready. The signal was given. A door beneath the royal party opened and the lover of the princess walked into the arena. Tall, beautiful and fair, his appearance was greeted with a low hum of admiration. No wonder the princess loved him! What a terrible thing for Jack to be there!
As Jack advanced into the arena, he turned as the custom was, to bow to the king. But he did not think at all of that king at all, his gaze was fixed on the princess, who sat to the right of her father. Had it not been for her barbaristic nature, is possible that she wouldn't have been here, but her intense soul would not allow her to be absent on an occasion in which she was so terribly interested. From the moment that her lover should decide his fate, she had thought of nothing, night or day, but this event and the various subjects connected with it. Possessed with more power, she had done what no other person had done – she had possessed herself of the secret of the doors. She knew in which of the two rooms, that lay behind those doors, stood the cage of the tiger with its open front, and in which waited the lady. Through the thick doors, heavily curtained with skins on the inside, it was impossible that any noise or suggestion should come from within to the person who should approach to raise the latch of one of them; but gold and the power of a woman's will had brought the secret to Kimberly.
And not only did Kim know the lady stood in, she knew who the lady was. It was one of the best known maidens in the land, and one of the prettiest at that, who had been selected as the reward for Jack. Donna Tobin. And the princess hated her. Often she had seen, or had thought she had seen, this creature throwing flirtatious glances upon Jack, and sometimes she thought these glances were perceived and even returned. Now and then she had seen them talking together; it was but for a minute or two, but a lot can be said in that brief time; it may have been the most unimportant topics, but how could she know? The girl was annoying, and she had dared to raise her eyes to the loved one of the princess; and, with all the intense blood traveling in her from her barbaric ancestors, she hated the woman who giggled and flirted behind that silent door.
When Jack turned and looked at her, and his eye met hers as she sat paler and whiter than anyone in the ocean of anxious faces around her, he saw, by that power of quick perception which is given to those whose souls are one, that she knew behind which door crouched the tiger and behind which stood the lady, or skank as Kimberly herself prefers. He had expected her to know it, positive that she would never rest until she had known the secret, hidden to all other lookers, even to the king. The only hope for Jack was based upon the success of the princess in discovering this mystery; and the moment he looked at her, he saw she had succeeded, as in his soul he knew she would.
Then it was in that quick and anxious glance asked the question: "Which?" It was as clear to her as if he had shouted it. There was not an moment to be lost. The question was asked in a flash; it must be answered in another.
Her right arm lay on the cushioned arm rest beside her. She raised this hand and made a slight, quick movement to the right. No one but Jack had seen her. Every eye but his was fixed on himself.
He turned, and with a firm and rapid step he walked across the empty space. Every heart stopped beating, every breath was held, every eye was fixed on Jackson. Without the slightest hesitation, he went to the door on the right and opened it.
Now, the point of this story is this: Did the tiger come out of that door, or did the lady?
The more we reflect on the question, the harder it is to answer. It involves a study of the human hear which leads us through difficult mazes of passion, which is difficult to find our way back out. Think of it not as if the decision of the question depended on yourself, but on that hot-blooded, semibarbaric princess Kimberly. Her soul at a white heat beneath the combined fires of despair and jealousy. She had lost him, but who would she allow to have him?
How often, in her dreams, had she stared in horror and covered her face with her hands as she thought of her Jack opening the door and on the other side of which waited the cruel fangs of the tiger!
But how much oftener had she seen him at the other door? How often had she gnashed her teeth, and tore at her hair when she saw his delight as he opened the door of Donna Tobin! How her soul had burned in agony when she had seen him rush to meet that woman, with her fake face and sparkling eye of triumph; when she had seen him lead her forth, his face covered in joy of recovered life; when she had heard the glad shouts and the wild ringing of happy bells; when she had seen the priest, with his joyous choir advance to the couple and make them man and wife before her very eyes; and when she had seen them walk away together on the path of flowers, followed by the shouts of hilarious shrieks in which her one cry of despair was lost and drowned!
Would it not be better for him to die at once, and go to wait for her in the blessed regions of the future?
And yet, that awful tiger, those shrieks, that blood!
Her decision had been decided in an instant, but it had been made after days and nights of careful thought. She had known she would be asked, she had decided what she would answer, and, without the slightest hesitation, she had moved her right hand.
The question of her decision is one not to be lightly considered, and it is not for me to be the one person to answer it for you. And so I leave the question with you: Which came out of the opened door – the lady, or the tiger?
Well... How was it? If you liked it, REVIEW PLEASE! I would've updated quicker if I had more reviews on my last story, because that one isn't doing well at ALL. So, if you want, check out my Kickin' It version Shrek.
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~Intensity Princess.