Monthly Drawing 24b: Uneasy lies the head...

“Dammit!” Derek “The King” Jones cursed out loud as he paced the bottom of the dig site, “How many times do I have to tell these idiots to put their damn’ tools away!”

He’d come in at dawn to check on the foundation of the bank construction he was supervising and he’d hoped to find everything tidier than he did. He prided himself on running a tight ship. The jobs he worked on were always on-time, on-budget and, most importantly, accident-free. He believed this was in no small part to his demands for order on the job site. And here was a lone shovel was standing upright in an incongruous pile of dirt in the middle of the pretty much finished foundation pit.

He stalked up to it, huffing and grumbling. . 

“Probably that damn’ Averbrook.” Derek talked to himself, a habit he didn’t realize he had, “That kid wouldn’t know enough to put away his damn’ pecker after pissing!”

He’d grabbed hold of the shovel and was about to yank it free when he paused. This was not a Blount Construction shovel, it was… different. Older-looking and at the same time cruder, but better made. The shaft looked like good oak that was worn by many hands.The dirt pile looked odd, too but, he couldn’t place why.

Derek shook his head. It didn’t matter; a shovel was a shovel and dirt was dirt. He yanked the shovel and the pile of dirt fell apart like a magic trick. He almost jumped back but, it was what was under the pile that stopped him. It was a wooden box.

“Dang” Derek breathed as he pulled the box from the pile. and brushed it clean. 

It was large, about 30cm square and 45cm tall with a pyramidal top. It was pparently made of good oak with fittings that looked like real gold. It was heavy, too and he wondered what was in it. 

“Only one way to find out” Derek said.

He touched the gold fitting on one side and there was a small click that was echoed three more times by the rest of the fittings. Carefully, Derek opened the box. A scent of some perfume wafted from the interior and he found himself smiling as he sniffed. Then he saw what was inside, resting on a purple velvet pillow.

It was a crown. A golden crown. A golden crown with a huge blue stone and three smaller stones fitted it.’

“Wow” Was all Derek could say.

He carefully lifted it from the pillow. He stood up and held it up so the brightening morning sky could illuminate it. It was not shaped like what he would consider to be a ‘normal’ crown. The big stone was ovoid and mounted to a horn-like protrusion of the front of the crown. From what he considered to be the ‘forehead bit’, two prongs pointed downwards as though to frame the wearer’s face and two more pushed backwards to go over the head. 

It was stunningly beautiful. And, oddly light for a crown of gold. 

“Probably gold-plated” Derek sneered to himself.

But, still, he had a thought. Derek looked around. Cocked his ear to see if he could hear any of the crew arriving. Hearing nobody, he dropped his hardhat to the dirt and lifted the crown to his head.

As he placed it on, it felt as though it shifted, changed, to fit his skull. He was about to pass it off as imagination when a strange tingling began to move over his body. Not unpleasant but, with a strange feeling of being compressed. 

Then, he noticed the grayish fur on the back of his right hand…