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Little Maria

Below is the seventeenth, and final segment of a new short story, ‘Little Maria.’ While the story is new, it is based on a chapter from my novel, Unidentified Woman, a literary crime about rape, revenge and redemption. I believe it stands alone as is, and will reward you handsomely when you read it.

*** And then, suddenly, in the middle of them all, I see the black beautiful car. The one that came to our village one day last fall and ended my life as I knew it and loved it. The one Mario pulled me into. The one he took me in and drove me away to my first rape.
And again, like in a twisted mirror, I see myself reflected in that shiny car. But no longer I am that innocent girl, ready to be plucked away like a pretty flower. NO. Only one year older I am, or maybe a little more than one year older. But really, Adela, the way I see it now: I am ten years older. Or maybe even one hundred years older! Old woman warrior, that what I am. And I have this torch in my hand.
So I throw it into the car through the half-opened window. And I stay still, until I see the fire catches on in the seats of the car and begins to bloom and grow. Only then do I turn around and walk away toward the gates.
Who left them open? No guards tonight? The police and government officials are all here. No need to worry then about leaving the gates open. They can come and go as they please. They can eat the farm’s pigs. They can drink the farm’s tequila. They can smoke the farm’s coca. They can rape the farm’s girls.
Can hear them scream and cry all the way here, my poor sisters. Don’t worry, I tell them in my heart, I am on my way to bring you help. But still, I look back again. Cannot move yet, as if I am stuck to the ground. Then I see how the beautiful black car is exploding in the air like a big mushroom of fire. See the bright orange flames of my pretty flower spreading around to the other cars. See a garden of cars blooming in beautiful fire.
Now I can look ahead. And far off above the high mountains I see a glimmer of orange light. From where, I trust, the sun will soon rise. Hear men shouting and hear gunshots too. But I am not afraid anymore, Adela. I am a wounded bird no longer. I can fly now.

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Little Maria

Below is the fifteenth segment of a new short story, ‘Little Maria.’ While the story is new, it is based on a chapter from my novel, Unidentified Woman, a literary crime about rape, revenge and redemption. I believe it stands alone as is, and will reward you handsomely when you read it.

Day of the Dead:

Hear shouts and orders all day. There is a big celebration tonight ahead of Dia de los Muertos. We work all day to prepare for it: clean the big barn for hours. All the girls—no factory work for them today. We fix up the whole place, the farmhouse and the yard too. The pariah dogs are chained already. Lambs and pigs are slaughtered and are spinning over the fire. When the sun goes down torches are being lit everywhere. Paper skeletons and sugar skulls, some real ones too, are hanging now in every corner for decoration. We even splash water on the dusty ground.
Mariachi band arrives at sunset and starts playing and singing. How strange: forgot there is music and singing in this world. Cannot move, just standing still on the balcony and listen to them. How beautiful it all sounds. Almost like home.
All the girls take shower and get new dresses. They look very nice. Not me—I stay in my dirty old sackcloth. Dumb Little Maria, damaged forever. Just watch the guests arrive, that’s all. Never saw so many nice shiny cars before. Police cars too. Can see policemen in uniform coming out of the cars. El Meya and Mario greet them. They shake hands with the policemen and lead them to the barn, where the music is merry and the smoke is heavy. Can see it rising from the roof up to the sky.
Big Mamá is wearing a real dress. Her hair is arranged high and she wears lipstick. Never saw her like that before. She orders me to stay inside the sisters’ hall and not dare go out. She takes all the girls with her but me.
Think of you, Adela, as I lie down on my mattress. Can see you in your beautiful white dress you used to wear. Remember how we decorated our houses together? How we led the procession to the cemetery once, holding hands, our proud parents and all the people of our village behind us? Can still hear the gunshots. The way I hear them now.
Hear music and singing voices too. Hear laughter and giggles. Breathe the smoke and smell the meat being cooked. The only one not invited to the party is me. Stay alone in the sisters’ hall, so big and empty now.
But it’s difficult to fall asleep. Think more and more of what I would do to them if I ever get the chance. Those men who raped me, I mean. Imagine very ugly things. Feel like I can kill someone now if I ever get the chance. Like Mario or El Meya. But just thinking about it frightened me also. Don’t recognize myself anymore, Adela. Don’t know what is happening to me. Hope you don’t hate me. Hope you would still be my friend when I come back home one day. You were my only true friend at school.
Maybe I should run away now. What do you say? But where to? Close my eyes and try to imagine it: running away into the desert, into the hills where the coca field is. And farther away even, into the high mountains. Keep thinking about, just as I feel I’m falling asleep.

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Little Maria

Below is the twelfth segment of a new short story, ‘Little Maria.’ While the story is new, it is based on a chapter from my novel, Unidentified Woman, a literary crime about rape, revenge and redemption. I believe it stands alone as is, and will reward you handsomely when you read it.

Summer:
Getting stronger now, after Big Mamá’s operation. Every evening I prepare dinner for my sisters, that’s why I’m the first to notice the new girl as she tries to climb up the stairs. Her skirt is torn, and her thighs are full of blood. Know what to do now, so I take care of her myself. Shower her and wash her clean, then I call Big Mamá. But she is mad at me and takes her away.
Is it my fault, Adela, for doing that? Don’t think so. Because the next day I stop sweeping the floor upstairs in the corridor when I hear shouts and screams coming from the yard. See El Meya and Mario carrying that worker, the one who raped the new girl, to the center of the yard where the well hole is. Big Mamá told me he grabbed the new girl after she stepped down from the bus, back from the factory. He took her to the stables where he raped her in front of the poor horses.
He is beaten very bad already. Can see the blood on him. Everybody in the farm comes out to watch. Big Mamá too. She doesn’t even mind that I stopped working. She looks at me close and I can see some sorrow in her eyes. That girl was a top prize, she tells me. Like you were once.
Know what she means.
Gringos pay many dollars for virgins, she continues. You know that by now.
Yes, I know that by now. But why didn’t she warn me before that I was such a top prize? Why didn’t she save me before I was damaged so bad? Before I was left to die on the ground of the coca field. Before I lost my will to speak.
I’m filled with rage again, Adela. Hope you won’t blame me for that, and for what I’m going to tell you now. Can’t take my eyes away when El Meya shoots the bastard. Then, after Mario strips him naked, El Meya draws this big shiny machete out of his side belt. That’s what he does, Adela, I’m not lying to you: he cuts the penis of the dead man and sticks it in his mouth. Just like that. They both laugh, Mario and El Meya. And they leave him dead there, under the bright summer sun, where the mean dogs of the farm are having a feast now.
Need to go back to my work but can’t stop looking. Me, Maria, who back home couldn’t even hurt one little fly. You used to laugh at me, Adela, the way I would feel guilty all day long if I accidentally stepped on a wondering ant. Lover of cats and dogs I was, but now I watch this man being eaten by dogs without closing my eyes or looking away. It makes me feel good, you know, watching it. Lost one God, who didn’t listen to my prayers. But found another God. This new one listens to me. Believe me he does.

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Little Maria

Below is the eleventh segment of a new short story, ‘Little Maria.’ While the story is new, it is based on a chapter from my novel, Unidentified Woman, a literary crime about rape, revenge and redemption. I believe it stands alone as is, and will reward you handsomely when you read it.

“But I almost died today. Suddenly I fall and pass out in the middle of cleaning El Meya’s room. Next thing I know I wake up in that cold empty tub. Feel a terrible pain in my tummy and in my pussy. Sorry for talking to you like that, Adela, but that’s how they all speak here around me. It’s no longer my private part, you see.
Nobody knows it better than Big Mamá. She is standing above me, holding some twisted wire as lifts something out of me. Her hands are full of blood. She throws it into the toilet hole and washes her hands while I scream so hard. Because of the sight I scream, even more than from the pain. But she signals me to be quiet. She takes a warm, wet towel and places it between my legs. She crosses my legs over it, then puts another small and wet cloth over my face and eyes. It smells terrible, so I close my eyes. Feel how I’m drifting away into a different world. Think I’m going to die at last. But still, feel Big Mamá’s hand stroking my hair. And hear her voice saying: Don’t worry, Little Maria, you’ll never get pregnant again.
Happy to hear that. Don’t want to go through that operation ever again, it’s so painful. What do I care if I’ll never have children? Who will want to marry me, anyway? Want to die, that’s what I want.
But she keeps talking to me. Don’t understand a word she is saying anymore. All I can think of are her hands, full of blood, carrying that poor little thing and throwing it into the toilet hole. And that if, if I’m still alive the next day, they are all going to pay for it. Don’t know how and I don’t know when. But you know me, Adela, you know how long I can carry a grudge. Remember when I didn’t speak to you for almost one year because you didn’t invite me to your eighth birthday party? Why didn’t you?
Never mind now. Forgive you. Forgive you even for dropping my hand that morning I was kidnapped, and not pulling me away with you. But I can’t forgive these men. Will make them suffer one day, you’ll see, for everything they did to me. Now I’m just a wounded bird, that’s true. Like the little turtledove you and I saved one stormy day in my last winter at home. Remember how wet and wounded it was, its wing broken? It couldn’t even fly, poor little thing. Yet it was dreaming of flying again.”

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Little Maria

Below is the tenth segment of a new short story, Little Maria. While the story is new, it is based on a chapter from my novel, Unidentified Woman, a literary crime about rape, revenge and redemption. I believe it stands alone as is, and will reward you handsomely when you read it.

Spring:

Nothing matters. Nothing but surviving another day without suffering even more pain. Night is my only friend here, my only time alone with myself. And with you, Adela. Tell you this: I wanted to die out there in the coca field but God didn’t listen to me. Maybe he has better plans for me. Don’t believe so. He didn’t kill the man who raped me. Now I know what rape is. And I know that there is no God, only Big Mamá. She saved me—don’t know why. She sees something in me that makes her want to save me. Hard as she treats me sometimes, she takes care of me almost as if I’m her own daughter. Now I’m her little helper too. Dumb Little Maria.
All the sisters are away at the factory on the outskirts of that ugly border town, Ciudad Juárez. Or out in the fields being raped. Either you are slaving at the factory, Adela, or you are being raped at the coca field. Or sometimes even both. If you die during the rape, or after, they toss you out of cars into the desert like piles of garbage. For the hyenas and birds of prey to eat.
Not me. Five times I was raped this way in the coca field but came out alive. Don’t know how. Don’t know why. That almost never happened, Big Mamá told me. Maybe that’s why she saved me at the end, after what the chief of the farm did to me. His name is El Meya, because if he catches you he’ll eat you alive like a spider crab. Big Mamá says he knows everything about farming and agriculture, and that he experiments with growing the coca plants here on the hills. It’s not their natural place to grow, she says.
As if I care. It’s not my natural place to grow, is it? He was so cruel to me, Adela, you can’t even imagine what kind of savage he was. You won’t find someone like him in any of the adventure and pirates books we used to read. He beat me up so hard first, then stripped me naked and tied me to a big tree. He did it to me from behind so I won’t see his face. But I know he was chewing a coca leaf while he was doing it to me. He was just having fun, you see, while I was crying in pain.
The other four, like the first one, were all Gringos from north of the border. Don’t understand why they need to come here and do it to us Mexican girls. Don’t they have rape farms in America? Big Mamá says they have everything there. That’s the name I gave it myself, Adela: rape farm. Because that’s what it is.
Now everybody thinks I’m deaf and dumb because I don’t speak anymore. Decided not to. No reason for me to talk. And I will never sing again, the way you and I used to sing. Remember that silly song we sang on the morning I was kidnapped? Always thought you were the prettiest one. Guess these evil gardeners decided that I was the one. So they picked me up from our garden. Yes they did. And used me: now I no longer pretty and my smell of innocent is all gone. Don’t understand why they didn’t kill me too.

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Little Maria

Below is the ninth segment of a new short story, Little Maria. While the story is new, it is based on a chapter from my novel, Unidentified Woman, a literary crime about rape, revenge and redemption. I believe it stands alone as is, and will reward you handsomely when you read it.

“He pushes me to the ground and turns me around. He looks at me like some wild animal. What does he want? I have no money. I have nothing for him. Scream again. This time he slaps me, once on each cheek. See the skies above him swirling like the water around the roots of the plants. He tears my shirt open and kisses my chest. My neck too. Feel how my legs are being spread apart. He lifts my skirt up and pulls my panties down. Maybe he wants to check my private part too. Why do they all…?
He does something in his pants and then I feel it. I feel a sharp pain and then something hard getting inside me, cutting me like a knife. He lets me scream, while he pushes it in and then pulls it out again. Why he keeps doing this?
He wants to kill me this way, I think. Where is God? I call on him: pray for him to strike this man dead and take him out of me. He groans real loud just then and pushes even harder. Feel something streaming deep inside me. Someone must have hit him on his head. That’s why he groans so hard, like the pigs in the farmyard. That’s why he falls on top of me as if he is dead. So heavy, breathing so hard. He doesn’t even move. Maybe God heard me at last.
But still, he breathes. And not so hard anymore. How come?
He pulls out of me and gets up. I’m burning inside: from the hurt and from the pain and from the shame. Don’t know why I feel shame—did nothing wrong. Can’t move or even bring my legs back together. My school skirt is still up but there is nothing I can do about it. Can’t move. My eyes are closed but I can see Mami at home in her kitchen, preparing dinner. She knows nothing. She would never believe me.
He is alive. Can hear him pulling his pants up and buckling his belt. He is whistling. Don’t know that song he is whistling. Why is he so happy, while I’m so sad? Why didn’t I listen to the secrets the wind was trying to tell me, as if urging me to run away? And where was God when I needed him the most? Busy with other, more important things? He let me down again, that’s what he did. Don’t need him anymore. This man was stronger than him. And he left something inside me. It’s dripping.
Maybe it’s the water from the water hose. Or it’s in my private part. Must have peed I was so scared. Without thinking much I touch it. It’s wet and warm, so I look at it. My fingers are full of blood. Lightning strikes my chest and my head at the same time. Dark is all I see now. Then nothing.”

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Sex War One

Sew War One, CoverTo give you a taste of my book, “Sex War One,” I’ve been posting segments of my award-winning short story, “The Monster,” which serves also as the basis for this book.
Sex War One – a dystopian, Sci-fi novel – is available for purchase in all eBooks & iBooks stores & devices. “Fast-moving plot and skillful Sex War One – my dystopian Sci-fi novel – is available for purchase in all eBooks & iBooks stores & devices. “Fast-moving plot and skillful characterization,” said the Science Fiction Studies journal. “This book unifies within it the principles of major Science-Fiction literature,” said This World. Kindle Edition & Smashwords Edition (for iTunes, Kobo, B&N & more.) For further details please check my books page.

Here then is the last segment:

He wanted to protest but quickly realized his present situation did not allow him to do so. He still had his wits about him, which was a good sign. He knew that everything was done under N.R.’s instructions, and that a constant struggle – maybe even hatred and resentment – would forever rule the air between them. The look she directed at him was full of investigative curiosity. She didn’t believe his explanations, he suspected.

He left them shortly thereafter and went up to his room, thinking that at least this stage was successfully accomplished. The Monster no longer existed within the “sane” colony’s walls. She wouldn’t disturb the “proper” way of life here anymore, or threaten in any way the “forward” progression and development of this golden race.

He rushed to take a long, decontaminated shower, as if wishing to shed down the drain each and every remnant of his sojourn outside. He felt he had to get rid of the impressions that the world he had visited left him with. Especially, he had to let go of the bug that may had bitten him and taken possession of him. Over there in the cave’s ground, with that daughter of nature.

Afterwards, following a meal he hastily prepared and ate, he lay down in his bed, listening to his beloved music; music from a different world and era, preformed by the colony’s music-computer. Maybe a man named Beethoven composed it originally; maybe it was based on his Moonlight Sonata. He had read about him once, being deaf and all, and had heard this piece of music once before. He remembered it fondly, and so had chosen to enter the word “moonlight” into his electronic distance-device. He was honoring not only the memory of a bygone world, age and man, but also – still so alive within him – the magnificent moon and moonlight he had witnessed before entering the colony.

He remembered the dream he had dreamed in the cave. He thought about it and about what had preceded it. What he had gone through with Z.Z. He didn’t have a word for it – or was afraid to search for it. He was not completely at ease yet, revisiting in his head all that had happened to him outside during that long, eventful day, and all the places and vistas he had seen.

Finally, a good feeling began to spread throughout his body and mind, unassisted by drugs and pills. He felt stronger; he felt wiser. He needed only courage.

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Sex War One

Sew War One, CoverTo give you a taste of my book, “Sex War One,” I’ve been posting segments of my award-winning short story, “The Monster,” which serves also as the basis for this book.

Sex War One – a dystopian, Sci-fi novel – is available for purchase in all eBooks & iBooks stores & devices. “Fast-moving plot and skillful Sex War One – my dystopian Sci-fi novel – is available for purchase in all eBooks & iBooks stores & devices. “Fast-moving plot and skillful characterization,” said the Science Fiction Studies journal. “This book unifies within it the principles of major Science-Fiction literature,” said This World. Kindle Edition & Smashwords Edition (for iTunes, Kobo, B&N & more.) For further details please check my books page.

Here then is the twenty-eighth segment:

The approaching night began to close in on him. But there was still some light outside, at this hour of dusk, and he was able to find his way down to the valley below. From there, the searchlights of the colony’s Periscopic-Tower were guiding him along, as they were looking out for him. He began his run toward the colony, fully aware that he would be forever affected by the events of this day. His mind was pure and clear as the mind of a small child. Only one thought was there: survival! He would have to report to the citizens of the colony. He would have to tell them what took place outside. He needed to find a good, convincing excuse for his long absence.
Before he had reached the small hill on top of the colony, he was able to see a sight he had never before seen. He saw the moon: a white, glowing moon rising, washing the darkening plains with an expansive, majestic silver light. He stood on top of the hill for one more moment, savoring this unequal sight, before going down the stairs leading to the Periscopic-Tower.
*
Inside the colony he was received with opened arms. Literally: two men met him in the Transfer-Room and helped him to take off his outside trip-suit. In the long corridors of the colony he met many of the citizens, anxiously waiting to find out how he was, and learn what had happened to him. They were glad to see him alive, and with him the dress he had brought back. Z.Z.’s dress.
In the main Control-Room, N.R. and B.F. were waiting for him. He rushed to return the radiation-gun to Robot W.1, who immediately deposited it inside the Weapons-Cell. He threw the nylon dress at N.R. and she caught it in midair, holding on to it for a moment and twisting her nose in disgust, before throwing it away on the floor.
D.L. told them – not looking at them though, busying himself with checking one of the large, oval-shaped computer screens – that he had exterminated the Monster. He had taken a rest lying down, he further told them, and had fallen asleep till sunset. Only then did he wake up, and then hurried back to the colony. He further told them that the air outside was mostly clear of nuclear radiation. It was possible for him, he emphasized, to breathe without the trip-suit helmet and its special, built-in gas mask. He watched the sun rising and setting, and saw the moon appearing up in the darkening skies. He estimated that in not too many years ahead, some flora, maybe even insects and other such living things, would start growing and living outside again.
N.R. and B.F. looked at each other and smirked in disbelief. They gave him a report on what had taken place inside the colony while he was gone. They told him about the steady development of the babies in the last tier; on the current situation in the semen-freezer; and the damage, later fixed, to the electronic sucking-pump of the female eggs. They had conducted an experiment in the Birth-Laboratory with the graduating tier, working on the birth-production-line. The experiment was a success. The backyard down at the bottom level of the colony was cleared and cleaned. It was as if the Monster’s shack was never there in the first place. Nor was she!

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The Monster

Sew War One, CoverTo give you a taste of my book, “Sex War One,” I’ve been posting segments of my award-winning short story, “The Monster,” which serves also as the basis for this book.

Sex War One – a dystopian, Sci-fi novel – is available for purchase in all eBooks & iBooks stores & devices. “Fast-moving plot and skillful Sex War One – my dystopian Sci-fi novel – is available for purchase in all eBooks & iBooks stores & devices. “Fast-moving plot and skillful characterization,” said the Science Fiction Studies journal. “This book unifies within it the principles of major Science-Fiction literature,” said This World. Kindle Edition & Smashwords Edition (for iTunes, Kobo, B&N & more.) For further details please check my books page.

Here then is the twenty-seventh segment:

The sun was about to disappear behind the red mountains, far on the other side of the valley. Her last golden rays were filling the dark cave with light, hitting D.L.’s eyes directly. He opened them, discovering he was covered with cold sweat. He had difficulty comprehending where he was, at first, so terrifying was his dream.

He looked at Z.Z., lying peacefully beside him, her mouth slightly opened. A ringlet of hair had fallen over her forehead and eyes, moving slightly to the rhythm of her breathing. Her skin was smooth and delicate, her chest going up and down in perfect rhythm, without skipping a beat. She was so beautiful.

He remembered everything at once, and therefore felt better. It was just a dream, after all. Why had he never dreamed like that before? Normally, just like the other colony-citizens, he hadn’t dreamed much, or maybe dreamed but remembered almost nothing afterwards. Their lives in the colony streamed so smoothly and steadily without dreams. There was no need for dreams; life in the colony was a dream.

And as he was thinking of the colony, he realized that he had to return there. If he didn’t, they would come looking for him. He was sure of that, as he would have done the same thing, had it been someone else outside, not him. Even more so: he wished suddenly to be back in the safety of his room, behind its closed door. Z.Z. and her force-of-nature – the force-of-nature that had created her, probably, to begin with – frightened him now. He wished to be his old self again: D.L., the Secretary of Underground-Colony B/365; D.L., the cold and calculated colony-citizen; D.L., an advanced creature of science and technology; D.L., the Birth-Laboratory chief scientist.

He got off the ground, careful not to wake Z.Z. up. He put on his trip-suit, with the unused radiation-gun in one big pocket, and Z.Z.’s nylon dress in the other. He looked at her for the last time and a thought flashed through his mind: How easy, painless even, would it be to exterminate her now. Lying on the ground so deep in her sleep. She would never know.

It was a troubling idea, which he quickly rejected. He wanted her to live, and she deserved to live – even here in the cave – though the reason behind his thinking was not entirely clear to him just yet. Nonetheless, he covered her with the blanket and hurried to leave the darkening cave. He was unaware that his last act of kindness had woken her up, and that those beautiful, deep brown eyes he had left behind were now open, looking at his vanishing figure. An image she would carry with her for the rest of her life. Short or long as it might be.

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Sex War One

Sew War One, CoverSex War One – my dystopian Sci-fi novel – is available for purchase in all eBooks & iBooks stores & devices. “Fast-moving plot and skillful characterization,” said the Science Fiction Studies journal. “This book unifies within it the principles of major Science-Fiction literature,” said This World. Kindle Edition & Smashwords Edition (for iTunes, Kobo, B&N & more.) For further details please check my books page.

To give you a taste of the book, I’ve been posting segments of my award-winning short story, “The Monster,” which serves also as the basis for the book. Here then is the twenty-fifth segment:

His knees were buckling underneath him. He felt it coming, even before he fell down to the ground. He couldn’t control himself; neither could he control her. He was tired and weak; she was strong and energetic. And that was why he stayed with her: She made him feel strong again. So he touched her naked body, so soft and so warm. And she held him in her arms, preventing him from going away. Nature ruled and directed her actions. Between the two of them now, she was the leader, and he was the follower. He got naked as well. For the first time in his life his actions were not controlled by his brain anymore, but by his pure impulses and emotions.

He heard her cry again when he penetrated. The joy of the flesh mixed so perfectly with the joy of the soul and became one. And so did they.

He felt safe in this dark cave. He felt protected. He remembered that the girls in the colony lost their virginity in a very different way, and at a much earlier age, with special scalpels at the medical station in the health laboratory. Doing it that way was meant to prevent stronger attachments later on between the sexes. Such powerful desire, it was suspected, could lead to personal preference and individual, ever lasting attachment, which was against the colony-rules. After all, they were meant to be equal and non-individual.

He stayed a long time inside Z.Z. Longer than he had ever stayed inside any of the women in the colony. He felt the warmth coming from her, and remembered the coldness that always came from the women-citizens. He remembered, as well, that they never screamed or cried; they always moaned, talked or laughed, or just stayed mute.

And thus, in the deepest of all places, he felt for the first time a strong desire to die. Dark energy, which nonetheless was surrounded by a halo of bright light, engulfed him and forced him to close his eyes. He felt her wet eyes, full of tears, resting now on his bare chest. He surrendered completely then to her wish, and yes, to his own wish as well. He lay quiet and calm with her on the ground of the cave. They were united, at last, with each other and with nature.

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