The Essence of Balencia

I wish to smell heaven

"SOLD!" a man shouted. And thus the deal was done.

Her new master slowly sauntered towards her, his slender frame almost dancing like a willow tree. Anxiety suddenly struck the slave girl as she felt beads of sweat pierce her skin like needles. "No, I-I'm not sacred, I'm not, I'm not!" she repeated to herself.

"A pretty face." her master said with a sick, sly smirk. Immediately, the poor slave girl's body tensed up, she knew what those words just uttered could lead to.

"Oh no... he's going to be one of those... who touch me.... At least they usually give nice clothes, and treat me relatively good. It'll be ok, I know it will." the newly sold slave thought to herself, as she painted a smile of obedience upon her face. From this moment onwards, she is no longer her own. The strange man takes her with him, the slave girl looked him up and down as she trailed slightly behind. "Look at him, I know his type. He likes them pretty and clean. Too bad! My last master was the polar opposite so clean is like a foreign word to me right now." she thought to herself. Thus set in her curiosity. For there were prettier, cleaner girls he could've chosen, "So why me?" she muttered.

Alas in such poor situation all she could afford to be was grateful. As there was another man at the slave auction on a horse. A vile man. A known abuser of women. All who are purchased by him, end up dead and mutilated in his backyard. According to rumours anyways. "Oh Melaniee..." she whimpered. Melaniee was a fellow slave girl, once owned by that infamous abusive slave master. She was a sort of sister figure. And had protected the current slave girl from gang related violence among other situations.

After one particular situation Melaniee protected her from, the slave girl went out in search of her at night. She expected to find her battered and bruised for interfering, however, such a state would've been a blessing compared to the vile fate of Melaniee. Her once full head of luscious hair was torn out and scattered like plucked petals. Her eyes were swollen to the point she was nearly beyond recognition. Her smooth skin, now burnt and charred. And most deplorable and sickening of all, her private parts were... well only an animal could ravage and maul a person in such a disgusting way... "Melaniee, I wish it could've been the both of us. Now I'm alone. I pray my Lord graces you with eternal gardens beneath which rivers flow. I hope that.."

"I didn't choose you because you're pretty." her owner said, interrupting her thoughts. Confused at this statement, the slave girl looked up at her master.

"I need to snap out of it, I can't grieve now. Melaniee is gone... I need to focus on surviving, I must please my master." she thought to herself.

"I like your hair, sweetie. It looks rather golden in the sun." her master said warmly, but still with that sly smirk glued to his face. Unsure of whether he wanted her to speak or if he liked them silent, she remains quiet. "I think I'll call you... Lalzari. Lal as in ruby and zari as in gold. A golden ruby. My, golden ruby." he continued. She merely nodded in acceptance of her new name. Suddenly, it was like a siren going off in her head. She felt as if this particular moment would be crucial, for reasons yet unknown.

"Lalzari... I don't hate it. But it is not my own, I am not even... my own. I. Am. Owned." the newly dubbed lalzari pondered internally.

"Come. Let's go." her master ordered. Lalzari followed like the good girl she must be. To her surprise, they made their way on foot. It was almost customary for wealthy men to travel in private carriages, pulled by majestic, elegant horses with long wavy manes that flowed like a heavenly waterfall. In that moment, the pair then entered the forest which seemed like a bizarre path to take. Anxiety seized Lalzari.

"Oh Melaniee, will I share the same ill fate as yours?" the worried slave girl silently whispered to herself. Her fearful mutterings, muffled by the loud crunching of trampled leaves as they trekked the forest. Flashbacks began to frequent her mind. She remembered the gruesome state she found Melaniee in. She remembered naively calling for help... as if anyone would help a slave girl... Melaniee's body was simply scraped off the floor, folded up and thrown into the trash. Like a dead animal who's carcass would cause the streets to reek. No, for indeed it was surely the wealthy and free, who were the animals. Those who rejoice in bloodshed and savagery, those who relish in crushing the weak. Simply because they can.