Night had come across Las Vegas, Nevada, and in the small, modest apartment of the Syrian Bombshell, Parand Ara, the part-time in-ring competitor was slowly bringing the day to a close. Parand had stood at the counter of the kitchen, preparing the evening meal for she and her baby sister, Larissa. Larissa had been born later in her family's life, when Parand had been in her late teen years back in Damascus, Syria. Hence the how and why Parand was a grown woman in her twenties, and Larissa was just a small child, who obviously worshipped her big sister as being strong and independent. Something that was practically unheard of in the war-torn land of Syria.
Parand's mother and father refused to leave Syria themselves, believing themselves to be too old to travel and they would only hamper the two sisters in a new land, a new home. But Larissa? She could only benefit from going to the United States. Despite its faults, the biggest being the current President, it was still a marked improvement over where they had come from. Although the American government's slow devolution of the rights of women in regards to their own bodies was beginning to remind Parand of Syria itself.
Parand had prepared Syrian meat pies with ground lamb for dinner, all the while listening to Larissa's unending chatter about her day at school. The biggest and her most excited topic being that of the impending Christmas holiday.
It was perhaps not known to many, but Christmas was celebrated with much fervor in Syria. For Christians, that is. Something neither Parand nor Larissa was. They were of the Muslim faith, and as such, did not take part in the usual traditions, save for perhaps gift giving.
Larissa: "What about a Christmas tree?"
That was the most recent question imposed upon her big sister. Larissa's chatter did not end with the preparation of the meal, but lasted all through the meal itself.
Parand Ara: "No, that is not our way."
Larissa: "Will Santa Clause visit our home?"
Parand paused as she continued to eat. Her burqa draped over the arm rest of the chair in the front room, as only was she required to don it when she was in the presence of mixed company. Santa Clause was not a Christian tradition in origin, despite what those in that religion might press you to believe. The concept was actually Pagan in origin and the aspect of a "kindly old elf" came later in life to amuse children of the world. There was nothing about good ol' Saint Nick that contradicted what they were taught and how they were raised...
Parand Ara: "Perhaps."
That was Parand's answer, non-committal. Gift giving was not something she was opposed to on Christmas morning, and truth be told -- she had already purchased several gifts for Larissa and had them hidden in the SCW offices thanks to the assistance of Mark Ward.
Parand Ara: "If you finish your okra."
Larissa looked down at the green vegetables on her plate beside her near-finished lamb pie and her lips curled downward in distaste. Okra was, without a doubt, her least favorite vegetable. Why oh why couldn't her big sister have listened to her and fixed something like potatoes or cabbage to go with their supper? Or eggplant?
Scratch that. Not eggplant.
Larissa bit her lower lip and Parand watched with bemusement as she picked up her fork and stabbed toward the piece of okra. It would seem the promise of presents and a visit from Saint Nicholas trumped the distaste for green vegetables.
As night descended, it was time for Larissa to go to bed while her sister stayed up for perhaps another hour or two. The little girl, dressed in a colorful sleeping gown that reached her ankles, and was a blend of shades of pinks and violets, crawled under the covers of the bed she shared with Parand, she settled in and looked up to her sister.
Larissa: "Will you tell me a story?"
She did not ask often, although even when not asked, Parand would still indulge more often than not. Parand took a seat on the edge of her bed and as Larissa settled in to listen with a dreamy smile, Parand would begin.
Parand Ara: "Have you heard of the story of Pandora?"
Larissa shook her head.
Parand Ara: "It was many years ago when the first woman was crafted from clay by the Gods, and her name was Pandora."
Larissa: "Not Eve?"
Parand Ara: "No. Pandora. In Greece, where she was created, her name meant 'the one who bears all gifts.' This was meant literally and figuratively, as the Greek gods each bestowed a blessing on her. Hephaestus gave her the perfect shape when he sculpted her. Aphrodite gave her beauty. Athena taught her the art of crafts. And Zeus, the king of the gods, had Hermes teach her deception and bestowed upon her an insatiable curiosity."
Parand placed a hand on Larissa's arm.
Parand Ara: "You see, Pandora was created as a punishment for mankind when they received the gift of fire from Prometheus. Zeus gave her a jar, later referred to as Pandora's Box, and in it he told her that it contained gifts from the gods, but she was not allowed to open it. Ever."
Larissa: "Did she open it?"
Parand nodded.
Parand Ara: "She did. Parand was delivered by Hermes to Prometheus's brother Epimetheus to be his bride. Prometheus warned his brother, but he did not listen and took Pandora as his wife. Pandora tried for much time to tame her natural curiosity, but in the end she did open the jar. And immediately all of the evil that had plagued mankind over the centuries came rushing out. Pandora was frightened by all of these evil spirits, and she closed the lid on the jar, leaving only hope still inside. Just as Zeus had intended."
Larissa: "Why did Zeus want hope left inside?"
Parand patted her sister's arm.
Parand Ara: "Because despite any wickedness that may come, there would always be hope for a better life. Now, you. Go to sleep."
Parand stood up and turned the lamp on the bed stand off, leaving he only light in the room being the small night light for Larissa's comfort. Parand took one last look at Larissa and closed the door behind her.
"The tale of Pandora's Box has fascinated artists and story tellers for centuries, and it is as meaningful today as it was when it was first told."
"Strange then, that the woman whom I am to oppose in Primm, Nevada is named after such a mythological character. A woman who brought such harm and curses upon the world. Why would a parent name their child after such a person is beyond me, but I would imagine my opponent thinks to use it in something of an appropriate fashion."
"Pandora Barrett. Perhaps she thinks that like her predecessor, she too will bring such plagues upon Sin City Wrestling and the sisterhood of the Bombshell division as a whole. She indeed looks the part of evil with her pale flesh and black attire, what there is of it. She boasts and brags of what is to come like it is destiny, but again, that could be her name talking."
"Her name cast aside, there is little to believe in when we meet Pandora. Your past is just that, in the past. A time and place that holds no meaning here in SCW. Here, you begin anew, and all past accomplishments mean nothing. And unlike your namesake, here? And against me?"
"There will be no hope."
