The Story of How Megaralda and John Met

Subtitle: One Foreign Day

Music drifted through the streets playfully. Everywhere you could see colors; pink, red, purple, orange, white, yellow, green, and blue all put a whimsical feeling in Paris. And I was mixed into it all, a gypsy who is the finest dancer in all France.

I danced with my cheerful goat, Djali, on the gray-cobblestone streets. All of a sudden, I saw a rugged man walk towards me. He had blond hair was as gold as the sun rays, and eyes as blue as the autumn skies that were brought out when next to his silver shield and helmet and blue clothes. Despite his rugged appearance, he had a warm, friendly, smile on his handsome face ( Along with the strong features, like his cheekbones and chin ). Over all he looked foreign, so I decided he must not be around here, so, where had this heavenly man come from?

A man interrupted my thoughts.

“Captain John Smith, is that you?” The man dropped his cup of wine.

“ The one and only.” John Smith kidded. I could tell that from his rich accent that he must be English.

“ The famous explorer!? In France? Sorry ole chap, but this land has been discovered.” The man was stout and chubby, the total opposite on John’s sleek and tall frame.

“ Oh, I’m not here to explore, my good man.”

“What then?”

“ The Festival of Fools, of course.”

“ Oh, well, I’d keep your eyes off that Megaralda, if I were you, she’s mine.” The man pulled out a picture he had drawn on a scroll of me. “Eh?” He clucked, as if to get John’s approval..

John rubbed his chin pensively. “ She’s beautiful.” He commented, like he meant it. I felt my heart turn to mush. He wasn’t like the old Parisian guys that liked to get drunk and went gaga with big whoops every time I danced. Ah, they came around every year. But John, John, was an original.

That was when he turned around and saw me dancing. I looked deeply into his blue eyes, glinting in the sun light. He flipped a coin into my hat skillfully.

“There’s a gypsy, with money!!” Three soldiers came running through the crowds.

“ You run, I’ll try to create a diversion.” John whispered to me. My heart was pounding in my chest, harder and harder as I ran and hid.

“ All right peasant, where’d the gypsy go?” One of the soldiers threatened John with his sword.

“Peasant? Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. I’m John Smith. You,. . . wouldn’t want King James hearing about this, would you?”

“ Oh my gosh, Captain Smith?! Oh, we were just playing.” The soldiers looked nervous, their eyes secretly asking John for forgiveness, and to not tell the powerful King James. “You won’t tell him, will you? Ole buddy, ole pal? PLEASE! If Frollo hears that the King of England is mad at us we’ll get. . .”

“All right, if you promise to treat Megaralda with respect and not hurt her.” John bargained.

“But. . .”

“ Dear King James. . .” John took out a pen and paper.

“ All right. Anything!” The soldiers stomped off mumbling about how they’ll “teach him a lesson one day”.

John laughed softly and walked off towards a stand.

That was the first time I met John.

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