Slave -Original Story!-
Cursed. Enslaved. Used. Abused.
All of these can describe young Kishi's life. She is a wicken-''not'' a witch, a ''wicken''-and because of her ancestry, she must do the bidding of her master. She plots in secret an uprising with her sisters, Maya and Celeste. Each of them risks their lives for freedom....will it be worth it?
Comment and rate please! I want feedback on this.
Right now, though, I am a bit busy escaping. My flight through the flora and fauna is frantic, because I am desperate to get away, to get free. I might die among these trees, but anything would be better than going back to my body being used, day and night, by the drunken guests of the king. Back to being no more than a concubine, to be seen, enjoyed, and not heard.
In the distance, a trumpet sounds high and clear. It is followed quickly by the sound of hounds baying. I know my absence has been discovered at the palace. Chills race up my spine. I force myself to keep running.
Eventually I have to stop. I kneel by a creek, my breathing labored. I cup some water in my small hands. After gulping it down, the coolness of it soothing my parched throat, I splash it in my face. Then I close my eyes and bow my head. I seriously consider just diving in and staying under. With the hounds, they will surely find me, sooner or later; most likely the latter. And they will drag me back. Is death really worse than a life not worth living?
I brush my straggling hair back from my face, looking up at the sky for a long moment. I want to drink it in, to see the sun and the clouds-really see them-one last time. I drink it in thoroughly, and then look down when the sun starts to leave spots on my vision.
When I blink my eyes clear, I feel a jolt of shock go through me. And then my breath catches in my throat. There is a man standing-crouching, really-across the stream from me; a truly beautiful man. His skin is smooth and flawless, peach-colored. His hair is dark and wavy, just a bit shorter than shoulder length. His eyes-oh, his eyes! They are a piercing green, with flecks of gold around the pupil.
He smiles, and I swear my heart stops beating for a second. "Hello," he says. His voice is smooth, cool, tranquil, and clear, like the creek flowing between us. "You seem to be in a sticky situation." His incredible eyes sparkled with amusement.
"I'll say," I murmur. The baying of the hounds gets steadily closer, followed now by shouts of savage men out for blood. I shiver, and a hint of desperation leaks into my soft, small voice. "Please-can you help me? I'll do anything; just help me hide from them. I can't go back." My voice cracks and I realize warm tears have pooled in my eyes.
"Hm. Anything, you say?" he inquires, stroking his chin thoughtfully. I nod vigorously, and he chuckles. "Very well, fair mai-" he begins, but I cut him off.
"Believe me, I'm no maiden," I say disgustedly. He chuckles again.
"Forgive me. As I was saying," he continues, "I can help you be free of them. But you will have to agree to my bargain."
"I'll do anything-just name it!" I say. ''And please, name it quickly!'' I think frantically as the shouts and howling grow steadily closer.
"You will be free of the men who seek you now. Your posterity will have unfathomable power. But all your daughters must dwell with my house, and be their protectors, their healers, and their maids, as required. But never again will the king force your will, nor any of theirs. Do we have a deal, Camellia?" he inquired. Later, it would occur to me to wonder how he knew my name, as I didn't recall introducing myself to him.
At the moment, though, I was weighing my options. This deal he was offering- it seemed like going from one form of slavery to another. And did I really want that for my children? It didn't seem fair to them. But was it any better to be born to the brutal treatment of the palace?
I chewed my lip, thinking it over. Then I nodded slowly and said solemnly, "We have a deal."
He extended his hand to me across the river. I grasped it in mine, noting how callused and warm it was as we shook hands. As soon as our hands were connected, something odd happened. The water under our hands churned violently, then rose in a sort of typhoon, twisting up and wrapping around our hands. I stared in horror at my hand as the water turns an eerie, glowing black that twists around my arm from the wrist up. I tried to pull my hand free but the water has it held tight and it won't let go. I am powerless to do anything but cry out and stare as it constricts like a tentacle closing around something. I shivered, feeling suddenly foreboding.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, the water recedes. My arms feel tingly and prickly, like they had fallen asleep and were just now waking up. I examined my arms for damage and found-to my shock-that there is now black spiral labyrinth pattern tattoos tracing its way up both of them.
I look up at the man questioningly, only to find he has disappeared. I look around, dumbstruck, but he is gone. He must have vanished while I was inspecting my arms. I am briefly puzzled by this fact, trying to figure out how he went so quietly. And then I realize something else-the sounds of the men and the hounds have faded. They were no longer on my trail.
Relief trickled through me for a bare instant, but slowly it turned into horror. What had I done? If that man spoke the truthâ€¦I just condemned my entire family line to a lifetime of slavery. They will be born slaves-they will never know freedom.
I have ruined the lives of generations. I can only pray they will forgive me someday.