The birthrate in the world had dropped by half nearly a decade ago now. Extreme measures have been taken. Any unmarried fertile woman were taken into custody. A reward went out to anyone who has any information on mothers in hiding. I had to flee, not wanting to put the people harboring me at risk. Caught. Not 50 miles from the border. My safe haven within my grasp just to be detained.

Now I lay, strapped naked on a table. No one makes eye contact as they scrub my body down before waxing any hair on my body deemed undesirable. I had heard of these processing stations, harems. Preparing my body to be taken by some man I do not know to bare a stranger. My only purpose now: breeding. The room is nice, I am treated well, but my freedom is gone. I think of my daughter I left behind, hoping she is still safe. After a month I am told I will be going up for auction. I dread the thought of being sold like some broodmare for some man. No choice in the matter.

I was chosen pretty quickly. My wide hips and large stature ensuring an easy birth. I won't be easy I thought. The man is handed a calender depicting when the best time to breed with me were. That word again. As if I am nothing more than an animal. I look at who I am to go home with, a stout little man. Tuffs of thick black hair sprout up from his shirt collar, his gut is large, round and hard, clearly a drinker. His eyes run over my body, I can feel where they land, everywhere but my eyes.

It's been months now. I have been returned to the harem 4 times now. Disobedient. A word found frequently in my file. Now becoming less desirable by the wealthy fat cats, I am offered up for little to no price for men who have passed an extensive test. Few who enter move on from the phase one, a simple test really. How bountiful is your seed. A sperm count of 125 million sperm per millimeter or over is needed. After they weed out those with a low count they do testing on motility, and morphology. If the percentages are right they get to move to phase 2 of testing, which consists of physical exams, STI testing, athletic ability, psych evaluations, IQ testing. Men are split into different teirs and given certain privileges. Those who test well in 3 or more categories are the best off.

I still have a small semblance of privacy, a light glows over my door before anyone enters. I am allowed to roam about my space freely and request things to keep myself entertained during my stay. I get to draw and paint everyday. The few men who come to see me after reading my file aren't impressed by my less than sunny disposition. Still no one will really look at me. I can't remember the last time someone made eye contact with me for more than mere seconds. Weeks pass and no one comes by except for people bringing my food and taking my laundry. I used to enjoy the solitude, now it feels stifling. I stopped painting. My appetite is wanning. I just lay on my fainting couch pretending I'm a woman stuck in a painting. Frozen in time.

My ears buzz and my eyes open in surprise. The hum of the light glowing above my door. As it opens I hear the voice of a woman "With your scores I believe there are better.." her voice trails off as a man brushes past her. My eyes widen and my heart skips a bear. He is staring right at me. His gaze holds mine and my whole body shivers. As he walks over to me I slowly rise to meet him. Before he gets within an arms reach he stops and turns to the woman. His voice is deep, dark and it washes over me, a single word "Her." His head turns back around and his eyes meet again, his thick lips curling into a subtle smile. Finally his eyes shift away to look at his surroundings. I ogle him while his attention is elsewhere. The first thing that stands out are his dreads, half of them are pulled up and the rest flows down his long back. His stature is formidable. He totally dwarfs me. His skin is chocolate kissed honey. The bone structure of his face. Fuck. My eyes meet his again. A low chuckle escapes his mouth after catching me checking him out "I'm going to breed her". Who does this dreaded man think he is?

She's mixed

Her skin a lovely shade of brown with yellow undertones

Sultry to touch

The way her body curves

So dramatic, yet soft

Her waist, hands fit perfectly around it

She isn't well endowed in the front

Or the back

But her silhouette is breathtaking

And when you pluck her strings

The most amazing sounds come cascading out of her body.

"Alexa, play my playlist 'Rampage' on shuffle please" Rob Zombie's Superbeast begins to play over the speakers of her van as she starts to accelerate onto the turnpike. Click. Click. Click. The blinker alerts other drivers as she moves across the asphalt to the fast lane. She charges up the turnpike, making 26 minutes feel like 10. Before she arives at her destination she is met by cop cars and police tape. Must be the shooting she saw on the news the night before. A man gunned down in a parkinglot of a pharmacy. After she passes the scene she is met by others. Less welcoming than the officers she just passed by. Protesters. She drives past them, trying to ignore their words. A muscular man escorts her from her car to the doors of the clinic, but before she enters she can't hold her tongue any longer. People pleading with her, telling her she is a murderer, offering her help. "I like to help others as well, I just don't force people to accept and make them feel bad when they don't." The man opens the door for her and gives her a kind smile as she walks through. "I don't need help" she thinks to herself. They buzz her into the second door and the nurse begins the list of obligatory questions. After the final question she pulls out a large wad of cash and forks it over. A smile on her face, but inside there is a whirlwind of emotions, none of which will deter her from what she has come to do today, but raise anxiety within none the less. She glazes over most of her visit. Sweet considerate nurses. People compliment her astro puffs. Everyone trying to make her feel as comfortable as possible while she is in their care. Finally it is time to take the pills. The sedation and anti-anxiety medication first, then pain killers and 2 pills that she has to keep in her mouth for 30 minutes, then the 60 minute wait for them to take affect. It's finally time. Tears flow down her cheeks as she looks into the large glass dish. This was her choice. Only she can know what is truly best for herself, though it comes at a heavy cost. Her playlist resumes when her engine starts. Uprising by Muse plays over her speakers.

Perched upon the edge of the cliff, she overlooks the vast open waters. The mist of the crashing waves dampens her alabaster skin, as locks of deep copper hair whip wildly around her head. There is a quickening in her chest before the deep gurgling croak of her familar echos from the distance. Badb swoops up the cliff face and lands on her shoulder, making direct eye contact for a moment. The day has come. Northmen have made their way around England. They are on route to make land fall on the north most part of the island, where they will ravage the small farming villages unopposed for many furlongs. She looks up to the billowing gray clouds, hoping, praying for a strong storm to push the northern heathens further south. The corner of her mouth rises into a sly smirk as the thought of facing the nortorious plunderers crosses her mind.

I met her a long time ago. It feels like a different life now. We fell for each other instantaneously. In the whirlwind of emotions, I lost myself. I found out she had been diagnosed with a life threatening disease as a baby. She wasn't supposed to live long, but there she was, 18 years old. Strong, vibrant, healthy. Or so it seemed. I can imagine being told you are on borrowed time would make you live your life to the absolute fullest. One day she disappeared with out a word. I figured maybe she got bored with me, moved on to the next fascinating soul. Later on I found out that this borrowed time she had been living on finally ran out. She died in her sleep. I suppose I should have known when she told me her name was Ephemeral, that my time with her was going to be fleeting.

I feel used. Like I’m just a source of entertainment when you are around me, but once I leave the picture I no longer exist. I try to start a conversation with you outside of the normal setting. It either never begins or dies quickly after what little breath you breathe into is exhaled. Then I wonder, did I say something wrong? Or am I merely just a bore? All my insecurities surface. What is wrong with me? Were we not just getting along fine last night? Was that an act? What has changed? I hate being ignored.

Seen at 9:39 AM

I felt your energy before I saw you. Wild, fierce and strong. When I realized it was you I was a bit taken back. Utterly curious about you, I needed to know more. So I made it my mission to figure you out. Little by little I start putting the pieces together I could grasp. Straws. How could I ever figure everything I need to know with mere moments we had together with so much time between each meeting. It wasn’t enough. I wanted more. Needed more. It started to bleed into other parts of my day to day. Thoughts of you. I tried to shake it. The more I heard and learned here and there just intensified my need to know more about you.

Absolutely frustrating. But now, after all this time, I realized it may all have been a waste. I do not doubt there is more teeming underneath that beautiful surface. I felt it, but you aren’t ready to let anyone in. To truly know you. For my own sanity I must abandon my quest. At least in action, my mind will be stuck on you for a while, ever stubborn, unwilling to give up the chase.

I learned at a young age that I have an enlarged heart. It has always beat steady and strong. I remember the first time it skipped a beat. Such an odd sensation. One minute everything is ok, next thing you know it's beating somewhat erratically. No, not like after a great work out, or after a run to catch the train. This is different, it stopped me in my tracks. What caused it? I have had crushes before and mild infatuations, but this was different, something more. Skip ahead into adulthood, I learned how to use this to weed through my emotions when encountering people I am attracted to. But for the longest I didn't feel this skip. I figured it was because of my new found health issues, for my heart was constantly beating out of whack. Then one day I laid my eyes on him. It wasn't the first time I had seen this man, but I was seeing his face in a new light. The way the dim, hazy bulbs highlighted his cheekbones and shaded the hollows of his face. Beautiful. And for the first time in years, my heart skipped. Such an odd sensation after all these years. I could feel my pulse, and my body seemed to come alive again.

She rises in the wee hours of the morning before the sun rises. Stalking the night looking for something to quench her insatiable thirst. Her mouth opens wide, displaying her abnormally long and sharp fangs. A long tongue leeches out to lick the remnants of her previous meal off her overly dry lips. Sniff. She stomps over to a decaying tree and digs up a sack full of left over skins that must have been left by some other creature. Revelling in her find, she devours the contents in a few large bites. On the ground, she lays, disgruntled and still thirsty. A loud ear splitting screech erupts from her throat. The ground starts to rumble. Boom. Boom. A towering behemoth breaks through the wood. It looks down at the creature with annoyance and pity. What makes a monster you ask? A child who awakes before day break, hungry, thirsty and still tired.