Auction

Entry #11

Punishment

Refusal to have sex with a man is not taken lightly. It is seen as a crime against humanity. The next morning came quickly, I laid in my bed all night thinking. Thinking of what will happen to me, thinking of why it had to happen at all.

Flashing back to the previous night also graced my thoughts often. He was so angry, his eyes wide with furry as he yelled and struck me.

The next morning, I stood before him. Eye swollen, lip slightly split from the hits I received the night before. At least I could lay in comfort that my husband was kind to us all. He showed me this by not having me killed. There was a spot open in the mines. He sent me there, in thanks to my giving him two healthy sons. My daughters would now go off to auction prep, my sons would go off to one of his other wives he currently has. I would be forgotten about by all that I have seen in my life, by my husband, the sister wives, even my own children would forget about me.

It was in the mines that I came to meet Zeek, he taught me how to read and write. This is how I was able to write my life, my story down for you to read, or not. The papers I am writing on though crumpled and used, could float off into the wind never to be read. My life has been a blimp in time, sure Zeek may remember me. I am very grateful for his care and knowledge. He was born of a practice woman, and was about half my age when I arrived in the mines. I learned that boys born of practice women are sent to the mines as there is no way to determine who the father is as practice women are used by many boys and men to hone their skills in sex. Someone in the mines gave him his name, as he arrived nameless. This is the only life he has ever known; I am glad I was able to meet him.

We became great friends, he was the type of man it would have been nice serving, and being with. Had the world been a different place. Where both man and woman could be with who they wanted to be with. Though we were nothing more than friends, it was because of this friendship that I was able to learn love. In a different world one could have children to love and care for from birth till they were old enough to go out on their own, not just children to be born to search for a son, a male to be able to continue the human race, and regardless of condition of birth. You could make decisions for yourself and your family, and not have them be forcefully made for you, made to follow or suffer.

The people of the mines were filled with those that really seemed to have found someone to care for. You can see happiness and joy in their eyes when they converse with one another. Some even forming relationships, and having relations with each other, including same sex relationships.

Why couldn't they have that type of love and joy on the outside? Why did the world have to crumble? Why did judgment of others have to take such a high place in how society was to be ran? Why are we to bow to fear of knowledge and not push past it?

'Why', it is just a little three letter word, yet even by itself it is the biggest question ever asked. Maybe if there was more acceptance of knowledge, science, and if more people asked that one question, there would have resulted in more thought. Maybe it is not too late. Maybe if more of society started asking more questions, the human population would begin to thrive and replenish itself, all well making people happy.

Other than my evenings writing, and talking with Zeek, my days working in the mines were long and hard. We worked from sunrise to sunset. Fingers bruised and cracked, arms sore and scraped up, feet throbbing at the end of the day. Hauling rock from one point to another. We never find out really what we are doing this for, just that if we do not do it, we are killed; we do get one day off a week to tend to any sores and to gain strength for the following week. Though even with this day, we suffer daily. Most of the workers including myself often wish death was the choice that was made before coming here, I wouldn't change the friendships that have been made by being sent to the mines.

As days go on, some workers pass on, nearly daily there is one or two deaths. These are the lucky ones; they get their release from this horrible world we came to live in. New workers show up just as often, full of gratitude of being spared from death or punishment. Soon they would be begging for it.

One day it will be my turn.

Till our next meeting.

~Nancy
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