Chastity - My Kind by Jennifer

My Kind

The crack of the whip rings continuously in my ears, a ticking clock reminding me of the magnitude of my mission. I close my eyes and try to hypnotise myself.

I am strong. I feel no pain. I am invincible.

The hot lashes on my back have rendered it numb since hours ago, but still a stinging sensation shocks my entire body with every whip.

The uncomfortable intimacy in the room presents little room for escape. Stocky men with robust builds line the small wooden door, hands permanently welded to the barrel of their machine guns. The smell of charcoal dominates the room as the fire beside me spits at the tied logs serving as a wall around me. Even the dark sky above me hides its stars, blanketing me with a pessimistic omen of hopelessness.

"She's hasn't said a single word since yesterday."

Through my peripheral vision I glare at the unfamiliar face of an officer clad in khaki uniform. He leisurely ambles into the room, emitting an aura of deliberate carelessness. He halts in front of me, slowly squatting such that his cold eyes almost empty everything within me, almost makes me spit every knowledge I have out of my bruised and bloody mouth.

But I will not betray my kind.

The corner of his lips twist menacingly as he sees past the walls I erect within me.

I will not let them taint me with their foul beliefs.

"You're just one of them. You're nothing. Do you really think you can make a difference by keeping your mouth closed? There are probably ten, one hundred ... thousands of ones like you locked up in every crevice in the world ... do you really think we will choke nothing out of all of you?"

His cackling laugh sends a chill through my bones as I realise the enormity of the scale of events.

We are one but we are many. We are an indestructible edifice.

"But the demise of no matter how big a fortress will be in its smallest crack."

I fail to hide my shock as he responds to my thoughts. His grin, as cold as the iron rod beside the fire is hot, expands a little more across his scarred face.

How ... how ...

"I have dealt with more than enough of your kind. Don't overestimate yourself. We know exactly how your thoughts align themselves ... we can see through you."

Suddenly my moral wall falters and weakens as the dark skinned men erupt into a unanimous chuckle. A horror is instilled within me as the transparency of my thoughts become a reality.

But as the men continue to laugh at the futility of my struggles, I remember my ultimate purpose once again. My kind ...

We may be transparent, but there is much more to us than you can see.

A seething confidence throws a dark glare at all the officers in the room. I rebuild my inner walls, which become stronger than they ever were. Amidst the sting of the fiery sparks erupting from the blaze onto my bare skin, I afford one last look at the burning fire. Today, from this violent fire of corruption, the courage of an untainted ideology is born.



Author's Notes: 542 words :O But I kind of cheated because I wrote for a few more minutes after my timer went off for 30 minutes because I was literally in the middle of nowhere going nowhere. You can probably tell my ending is a bit rushed/misplaced, especially since I wrote my last paragraph first and I struggled to make my story 'meet up with it' at the end.

Another implication of my poor time management skills: my original ending was a bit different, I had the persona escaping and instead of "I afford one last look at the burning fire" I had "I afford one last look at the cottage in flames". And the mysterious khaki clad officer was actually meant to turn out to be a good guy!! But I was nowhere near the escape when there was 5 minutes left so I scrapped it. As a result my interpretation of 'chastity' as a purity of purpose and untainted beliefs in the story is even more diminished :(

And I saw Alicia's title before writing this ... >.> I kind of died a little already haha!

Chastity - A Timberwolf's Dove by Alicia

A Timberwolf's Dove

Sometimes in the winter snows a pale snow rabbit dashes across the terrace. Its timberwolf fur, dusted with frozen icing, brushes the snowman's bodice before he disappears into the bushes. Emilia will sit in the window of her home with a hot mug of chocolate, feet tucked in woollen socks, and wait for him to come back. 

On winter nights, the moon frolics on her neighbour's roof, but the stars flicker reproachfully, distant and unyielding. Emilia clutches the thick novel, balancing a glass of mellifluous milk. Her mother is upstairs, rearranging the photo frames and touching the languid curtains. Reminiscent. 

When the spring returns, Emilia finds it difficult not to notice the silver band, singing. It is a long forgiven promise, not forgotten. The grass is simple smaragdine. But the sky is albicant with a flourish of pheasant and pigeon...where are the doves? One of the last sits in the window of her house with a Wordsworth. Emilia has a promise to a lionhearted timberwolf rabbit.

Sometimes in the spring which follows winter, Emilia will see the pale snow rabbit, alone. He is waiting.

Winter is coming, his ears say, before he dashes across the terrace.

I promise, her silver band heralds to the approaching summer. They warn of the endless colour that will flower. They warn Emilia. To stay inside. Summer is for those who go unescorted, for those who do not make promises that cannot be broken. Many times in the summer heat, Emilia will sit on the lawn, and watch the pedestrians parading by; hand in hand, ear to shoulder and heart to heart. She will sit aside and wait for the rabbit, because surviving winter is what matters, until her everlasting summer arrives.

Always, the autumn will tease. The trees shed their layers to shame the name of winter. All the animals hurry away, but not Emilia. She is waiting.

One snowfall winter a pale snow rabbit stops on her terrace. He is a much faded charcoal grey. His ears twitch to say, I have come. 

Emilia is a white dove, the silver band sings.

'Let me lead you into summer, my white dove.'

'I am your white dove.'

~OvO~   END   ~OvO~

Author's Notes: 364 words! :) And I just realised that "lionhearted timberwolf rabbit" sounds like a mash of three animals haha. A few definitions:

• Timberwolf, smaragdine and albicant are all colours; a pale grey, emerald green and white, respectively
• Mellifluous (which I just learnt whilst writing this) means smooth, sweet ...mellifluous milk...?