Once upon a deception

The cold city

  They made a spectacle of the retrieved slave. They dragged her to the top of the platform for all to see, Dragging at her hair as they reached the confines., dragging her limp pink body up the platform where the cheap jewelry that would adorn her neck in the next moment hung.

 Help me! The woman pleaded. A cry the passing and watching villagers ignored. To them, She was facing punishment. Slaves knew better than to run. She deserved this. This was justice in the eyes of the people of Wohar. The woman saw through their eyes that not one of them cared so she stopped fighting her masters and succumbed to fate. This was her destiny.

 The masked captors sung the bells signaling to every citizen that there was a sight to behold. The rich ones took along with them their stubborn indentured. For them to see what would become of them if they were stupid to run. Others showed up to have sick fun. The gore was what made their blood pump alive but for one little girl, It was the hope that her prayers were potent. Hidden among the vast crowd, No one noticed the little girl.

 “Here stands a slave who tried to flee.” A hooded figure said to the crowd. “She believed she deserved better than the good life the Great God gave to her.” The man then turned to her and spat, “You barely deserve the life the Great God gave to you!”

They then proceeded to strip her of her ripped garment until she had nothing but her undergarments. It was an act the men jeered in perverted pleasure too.

“Did you really think you could escape your debt to the Great God by running?” the masked man continued, closing in on the terror-stricken woman. “The Great God demands that his wages be paid.”

 As if knowing what would happen next, The slave woman fought tooth and nail to escape their deathly grasp. Nonetheless, Her attempt was a fruitless one. The noose was tightened around her thin neck and the jeers of the crowd intensified. Some of the people watching could not bear to take part in the sick fiesta so they left. The little girl crept out of her hiding spot, hiding the red hot marking on her legs from any passerby that got to suspicious. Her name was Clarisse and she feared what they would do to her if they found out she was owned.

“Let this be a lesson to your kind.” The masked man sounded a note of warning to the stubborn ones. “This is what happens to the disobedient ones.”

The platform split in two, throwing the woman in. Her body jerked as the jewelry tightened upon her throat. Her legs which hanged midair twisted and struggled but it was of no use. In a short while, she stopped fighting. Clarisse stared in horror as her mother breathed her last. The crowd then dispatched; Like nothing had happened except for the stubborn slaves and Clarisse of course. The slaves learned the hard way that their lives did not matter and Clarisse, The little girl had to admit that even the so-called Great God did not value her prayers or her existence. She was worthless just like the rest of them.

…No matter what happens, do not let them see you. Clarisse’s mother’s warning rang in her ears. She propped away from the gory sight just as her mother’s body was dumped into a dirty white bag. It hurt the girl knowing she couldn’t be there to perform her last rites. Now that her mother was dead, The masters would be hot on her tail. If they caught her, She would most likely be tortured then sold to a sick noble. With the wild rumors going around on how laying with young virgins could lengthen one's lifespan, Clarisse knew she wasn’t so far from the truth. She walked down the street on Wohar wondering what she was going to do next. The freedom fighters were probably on their way to neighboring towns so she was stranded. She walked the city in circles just to divert the street urchin's attention from her all while hiding the distinctive branding her leg. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her she had taken absolutely nothing for the day. Her throat chaffed from walking without purpose for hours. The girl eventually stopped walking in circles and propped herself in between two stalls to rest. Shrouded in the darkness, she planned what her next step would be. The glaring option would be to submit and return to the fields praying that they would spare her and give her a second chance but Clarisse swore under her breath that she would rather die. Her little mind, unable to bring forth positive ideas out of lack of option and hunger made her break. She fell to the ground crying. Why was her life hell? The girl laid there praying death would take her soon. However, her raging stomach would not let her grumble in silence. Then a bright light burned within her mind. It was probably her stomach talking or the smell of freshly baked bread but either way she considered it. The thought didn’t scare her. In fact, She welcomed it. Here she was in the beautiful market of the streets of Wohar, A flamboyant scene where several stores stood hawking food. The one thing she needed to survive at the moment. Wohar wasn’t rose red. Clarisse knew she was taking the risk to salvage her life or damn it if she stole but like her mother used to say, every coin had two sides and one would never know which side it would land on until it was tossed. Despite her bleak situation, Clarisse dared to smile. It was all that could sustain her; If the Great God refused to acknowledge her, She had to defy him. She had to live.