Baseball was the first to go. The rest of the extra-curricular activities followed, until even academics were outlawed. There were no classes, no sport teams, nothing. Except for the churches. Two white buildings that stood at either end to town; one for the girls, the other for the boys.
The churches were not about faith however, they were about our service to the new king. Every Sunday was Bloody Sunday, and we would attend church to pray for our lives and offer sacrifice. If you had no tribute to pay to the royal family, the priest would saw off one of your fingers.
We were cattle, lining up for slaughter. The population of our little Haven was five hundred and twelve, and had been so for the past one hundred and sixty-two years. The king wanted control over everything, including mating. A marriage was to be blessed by his highness, and if the couple were denied, that was that. They would never see each other again. Anytime a child was born, an adult was sacrificed. The population never rose or fell this way. Most sacrificed were elders, the ones who were alive when things were different, when the people had freedom. They were killed off one by one until their memories were lost, and this life was all we knew. A revolution, an uprising against the king? All simple ideas formed in a distant dream, a dream that would never make any sense to anyone. Things were how they were, and soon enough, no one knew any different.
One hundred and sixty-two years, living as slaves to an evil king, helpless to do anything, waiting for our lives to be taken. One hundred and sixty two years, and then she came, and changed it all. This is her story.
The Dance of Liberty
Ayanna sat on the steps of the church, her white sack resting on her trembling thighs. She watched as the men walked by her, carrying sacks of goods over their shoulders and marched with an easy grace. It is much simpler for men, she thought bitterly. They have jobs and a form of education. Women are not permitted to do anything but clean houses during the day when the men were about, and cook at night while they slept. Women did not even live with these men, but it was their duties to care for them. Women were slaves for men, leaving meals on their doorsteps or windowsills, but never meeting the stronger sex until the night of ones binding.
Ayanna had no one to teach her to cook. She did not know her father, and her mother was taken when Ayanna was only in her seventh season. Her food was tasteless, but did the job. To make it sweeter, she sprinkled honeydew from the flowers she found in the woods.
She had not found any of those flowers today.
"You are early, child."
Ayanna looked up to see a tall male figure hovering above her. "Yes priest, I was hoping to talk to you." She shouldered her tribute bag and rose to her feet, aware of the priest watching her movements intently.
"You know it is forbidden for a young woman to speak privately with a man she is not bound to, Ayanna."
"Yes priest, but please? We are outside, in public, anyone can see plain as day we are doing nothing wrong. And I'm afraid this is an important matter."
The priest stands silently for a moment, watching her. He can see her pulse thumping in her pale throat, a bead of nervous sweat dripping down in to her glorious cleavage. For such a young girl, her body is well developed. Her dress cloth is too short and too tight, just on the north side of scandalous. It had fit perfectly two years ago. He doubts she has the means to buy another one. Oh but what he would not give to feel her moving beneath him.
"Proceed," he nods.
"Lord, thank you." She takes a deep breath to calm her quivering. "It has been a dreadfully busy week. The number of women in the community has fallen noticeably, and of course, I understand that men are more important to the society. I am not one to complain. However, I have been forced to cook for several more houses than usual, and I am completely out of supplies. The men do not pay as generously as they used to either, and therefore I myself have been cutting my rations. I am starving, priest." He looks on her stunning young face with pity and regret, seeing the obvious evidence of the truth in her words, but saying nothing. "I am afraid that, as a result, my tribute today is less than...What would normally be acceptable." Ayanna looks down at her naked feet. They are covered in dirt and cuts from sharp rocks and thorns. She has grown out of her slippers and donated her sandals to an orphan child long ago.
"What is your tribute today, Ayanna?"
"...A slice of unsweetened bread, priest."
"Then, I am afraid; all hope for you is lost." He moves to pass her, but Ayanna puts a fragile hand on his shoulder to stop him.
"I'll do anything." Ayanna cannot remember the last time she cried, and though she feels utter despair, even the near possibility of losing her finger will not bring her to tears. She thanks the lord for granting her strength.
"If you had a husband, he could take the punishment for you." The priest desperately suggests.
"There is not time to find a husband and be granted a marriage before the service. Priest, I need my fingers to cook and clean for the men! Is there nothing you could do?"
"I will try my best to find a solution for you, Ayanna." The priest steps behind her and opens the church doors. "Now wait here until the others come, and then take you seat like a good little girl." With a comforting pat on her shoulder, he enters the church and leavers her to her fate.
Some time passes while Ayanna waits for the service to begin, and finally, fate comes along.
He was whistling, walking somewhat joyfully towards the males' church with a heave sack thrown over his shoulder. The man stops walking when he spots her, his playful whistling ending.
"Are you not late to church, sir?" Ayanna asks, puzzled by his carefree attitude.
The man gives a curt nod. "Yes, I suppose I am." His voice is deep and rough and it rubs against her bones in the oddest way. He is beautiful; a tall blond gift from the gods.
"Are you not afraid of your punishment?"
"No, I suppose I am not." He looks on at her with a quizzical brow. Ayanna shivers in fear for the man, and his dark green eyes darken still at the gesture. "Perhaps I should be afraid." He says, as if he could read her mind.
"Perhaps you should, sir."
"I could be killed for my tardiness." The man states simply. Ayanna nods enthusiastically, willing him to have more care.
"Will you make my death worthwhile, little girl?" He moves towards her slowly, taking on the persona of a predator.
However, Ayanna does not know his intent, so she is not afraid in the least. She stands her ground and stares into his moss green eyes. "How would I do that?"
The man stops. "What's your name sweetheart?"
