More Than Willing [on hold]

[2] The Trade

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I awoke to the light of day, the sun, which seemed much larger and warmer against my skin, shone directly into my eyes. Despite my tearing eyes, despite the burning they felt, I forced myself to stare up into the glorious golden sphere, relief flooding through me like cold water.

It was a dream, I think. Silly me, it was all a dream! But why am I outside and not in my bed?

I rose my hand to eyes to block out the sun, but my wrists were pulled back by something behind me. Something metal and heavy.

Chains.

I looked to the left and right of me and saw I wasn't the only one. At least twenty other men and woman were chained to the brick wall like me, drooping forward until I thought their backs might break. Their hair lay plastered to their heads, neck, and faces, purple bags circled dull eyes, the skin on their bodies pale and flaky, looking as if it were slowly slipping off of their bones.

I felt disgusted and ashamed, and looked away before I made eye contact, knowing they must look at me the same. I too must look like zombie.

Before us prisoners was row upon roe of finely crafted wooden benches, going back for what looked like miles. Other than that though, the setting was quite ordinary.

The green grass beneath our feet looked greener, more alive, and so did the plants and trees. I noticed that beside the sun, two moons sat. One a long, fragile crescent, paler than the whitest snow, the other a soft pink, large and deceivingly in bloom, but it was not quite full yet.

To others, these things may seem extraordinary, but here in this place, it was to be expected. Two moons in the sky normal. Trees so green you couldn't think if them being a paler shade.

I've heard about this place before, but have never visited it. The world of the "little people," they call it. At least my dad did.

Others will know them as faeries.

I grew up in a house with fresh milk and honey always on every window sill, tiny houses in the garden full of cookies, gems left on tables, chairs and counters before sleep.

My father was obsessed. He lived and breathed the Faery life, scribbling all of his findings in one if his tiny journals he would never let me read. He loved the creatures so much in fact, that when he finally came across a real one, he didn't even realize what was right under his nose. He couldn't see through the veil of fantasy and misconception over his eyes, believing the woman to be just like him.

As I'm told, they fell in love, her secret safely hidden until the night of their child's birth when she flew into the night sky, the moonlight filling her iridescent wings as she disappeared and never returned.

After that night I became my fathers most prized possession. After, I was a rare item. My dad never looked at me like I was his daughter. I was Sage the Experiment, Sage the Halfling, but never Sage the Daughter.

I was never allowed to leave the house, not even allowed to peek out the doors and windows for fear of me being yarn from him. I was a prisoner in my own home.

But in time my father grew to realize that I'm not like my mother at all. I can't suddenly sprout wings or sprinkle pixie dust like Tinkerbell. I can't turn men into toads or myself into three inches. I'm not remarkably smart or beautiful. To my father, I was nothing. Not even Sage.

To him I was just a waste of time, a waste of space, a money scheme gone all wrong. I was useless. So I kept to myself most of the time. His face gave me nightmares, so I never looked at him anymore.

A few months after my disownment I was allowed to go outside and play with other kids for the first time in my life. I was happy, excited, like any normal kid would be, only I'm not normal.

Outside, I found I could speak to plants, and that they speak back! 

For reasons unknown to myself, I've never told my father about my abilities.

Actually no, that isn't true. I haven't told him because I don't want to become another science experiment. I don't miss those first thirteen years of my life and I don't ever want to go back.

Loud banging sent me spiraling out of my reverie with a cold shudder despite the warm sun against my back.

Then again, i think, I'd rather be an experiment than be a prisoner here. Even if I had the strength to escape, I would never find my way out. I don't even know if this world is on earth or if it's on an entirely different world completely.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a voice boomed from somewhere above my head. I looked to find that the wall I was chained to was no ordinary wall, but the side of a dark castle, towering hundreds of feet above my head.

Somewhere in the middle of the wall was a tiny woman standing on the edge of a balcony. She's not your "stereotypical Faery tiny" but she couldn't have been much more than three and a half feet tall and she didn't have wings either. But she wasn't ugly-- just short, with long black hair and big violet eyes. And a nasty mole above her lip  that I could make out from this far down and it seemed to move when she talked.

"Welcome to the monthly trade!" the woman in the balcony said, a deadly smile on her thin lips.

I wondered what the monthly trade was while I scanned the crowd I had not seen come in. Everyone was clapping and whistling and almost every seat on the benches were taken.

Growing up I always expected faeries to pretty much be like Disney described them, except they're not.

Some do look a little funny, like their faces were made out of putty, but most just looked like human hippies with psychedelic hairstyles, the colors ranging from natural blond and brunette to a variety of blues, greens, and pinks.

It might have actually been cool if they weren't looking at me like I was their last meal.

"First human please!" the woman in the balcony screeched to someone I could not see.

I heard a clanking noise and then saw the chains on one of the woman prisoners beside me extend. And then someone yanked her up to her feet, only she couldn't stand, so the man had to drag her.

When she was just feet from the audience he let go of her and she fell to the ground helplessly as if she weren't real. As if someone had replaced her thin body with a rag doll.

"Who wants to bid first on this strong, young woman?" the woman said, clapping her hands together and keeping them in the air before her, a greedy smile on her face.

A few people raised their hands, but apparently the human girl didn't look promising enough, no serious money was dealt out from what I could tell.

I watched everything with careful, steady eyes. After a minute of thick silence the two clasps on the girls wrists and ankles were release. She was so out of it I couldn't tell if she enjoyed the relief or not, but I could see the sadness in her eyes as she was carried away to her new "owner."

It didn't take long for me to figure out what this is or why I'm in front of hundreds of people with pouches full of money and greedy eyes.

I knew exactly what this is. I heard about them from my dad and now I'm actually in one and it's all his fault. I wish I had just died in that cellar because as I looked into those unfamiliar faces, heard the voice of the woman in the balcony, and watched these innocent people one after another be thrown into the front of the audience like dinner, I knew...I just knew I was in for some deep shit.

My father sold me into a slave trade.

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Sorry to leave you hanging guys...haven't had much time to write this because I've really been getting into my other story on here. I will upload the next chapter soon, hopefully in a few days.

Thanks for taking the time to read my story. Love you guys! You rock! XD

--Amber