Thursday photo prompt – Obelisk #writephoto
Obelisk; 4 sides, narrowing upward, ending in a point. A singular structure baking in the sun. And for what purpose?
I can’t eat it, drink it or live in it. Certainly, it shelters one from the sun’s heat when summer is nigh, but I can’t live in it. Neither does the sea — the thing it casts a shadow upon — provide more than fish. And fish is of no use without fresh water to wash it down.
“You…girl!” A man calls from the obelisk.
I have 2 bullets remaining in my gun, the laser rifle almost spent, but the edge of my sword is still sharp. The wind at my back, I sniff at the air. More behind me. I turn to find 3 women and a man.
“How many in your party?” I ask.
A woman, taller than the others, answers. “We are from a village not 3 kilometers away.”
The man standing at the obelisk runs toward us. He’s unarmed, eyes showing a hint of fear. He joins the tall woman, standing at her height.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“We offer solace from the war to those willing to work,” he said. “Are you interested in a home?”
“I will not be hasty in my answer,” I said. “For more years than I remember, I have walked the Earth looking for what you offer. In my innocence, I was ravaged by men and escaped their grasp when other men fought them for me. In my haste to find solace, I followed a woman with kind eyes who led me to a slaver camp. When a missile took out my captors, I escaped again.”
The tall man and woman looked toward the ground. They were a decent sort but, like the kind woman who lead me to rapists, they answered to someone whom I had no doubt possessed little soul.
“Women, if you are attacked by a soldier, they must become vulnerable to take what they want. Kill them in mid passion with a shot to the head, and steal their clothes,” I said.
The tall man whistled, a signal to his unseen masters.
The body armor and pants I wore, stolen from a dead soldier, had another use, one I spent little time testing. My sword in sheath, and sidearm holstered, I ran toward the cliff, jumping 40 feet into the ocean below.
Shielding absorbed the impact, and provided buoyancy. It protected me from the waves. Standing at the edge, the tall man and woman held each other, crying.
Women of birthing age were rare, my condition easily seen underneath pants made to fit a man. No doubt their village would be destroyed this night for losing such a prize.
Obelisk; as worthless to me as the male appendage it represents. I will give birth and, if it is male, find a barren couple seeking a child. As I have done 5 times before, I’ll stay a month as their nursemaid. With my womb healed and belly full, I’ll slink from their home and continue to look for Amazon, the city of warrior women, a place of solace where no man dare touch me again.
©Joelle LeGendre 2017