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  I am defiant but there is only so much I can do as I let my feet drag me to the Mother Tree. I scowl. I have never had bad days. This one seems to be the first of many to come. My father sends me to the dreadful Mother Tree, of all places. I grimace.

  Chapter 3

  Alice

  He is a beautiful man. I dream of him sometimes. Never before have I seen one like him. His eyes are silver, his long hair is a silverfish white, and oh, what I would do to kiss those pursed lips. I never get to, not even in my dreams, the only place I get to see him.

  “There you go, daydreaming again!” A harsh southern accent riles me from my thoughts.

  I lift my green eyes to see, Jemma. I don’t know her last name. I’ve only known her for two days. Jemma is a plump woman of near forty. Her manner is harsh even though there is a lot of truth to it. Her property is a shanty road-side diner where I was hired to wait tables. After that failed, I was assigned to man a lemonade stand. At least I won’t spill any food on the customers anymore or mix up orders.

  I didn’t realize waiting tables is not that easy. And the times I got it right, perverted trucker men will strip me naked with my eyes. Some even insist that must join the go-go bar down the street. The money comes easier than greasy food, they insist.

  ‘Those lemonades aren’t going to sell themselves!”

  I jump at Jemma’s voice. From the corner of my eye, I see the other waitresses scrunching up their noses at me. They dislike me. I know my thick auburn hair is the envy of this small town but besides it, I do not feel there is anything else desirable about me. I am a thin girl but my cheeks remain plump, giving me a baby face. My hair cascading down to my elbow emphasizes that innocent look even more.

  If my breast were not so round, I could have easily passed as a school girl. Not now when I just pass as an impoverished cute girl with a strange eye color. Green is not odd for an eye color, but it becomes so when I am the only one in the entire town that has them. I must have inherited them from the father I never knew.

  “May I take your order,” I recite my lines when a shadow falls upon me.

  “Why? You are only serving lemonade,” a voice says.

  A middle-aged man with a portly belly and shaggy beard approaches my stand. He is clad in oversized overalls. I can feel Jemma’s eyes on my back. Even if it is only my second day, my job is being threatened. I am a really bad waitress.

  “Indeed. Would you like that in a small cup or a big cup?” I plaster a smile on my face.

  The man laughs at me. “The only cup I will take is a C cup.”

  It takes me a moment too long to realize what he is talking about; my breast size, of course. I feel more uncomfortable than offended. This is just the way of the town, I suppose. There are no pretty girls so even the average get barraged with lewd proposals. The way it is, no woman is respected in this populace unless she is married. And I have no immediate intentions for that.

  “Sorry, we only serve lemonade here,” I say, pushing a cup into his hands. “Please pay at the counter.”

  “Whore!” the man says and walks away.

  I exhale aloud. I imagine that my decision to work in this open road diner is not such a good idea. I remember I had chosen it due to my belief that perhaps because it was next to the road it will open opportunities for me to leave; a chance for me to finally see the big Apple; a chance to start a new life. Who am I kidding? I say to myself.

  As the day clocks, I notice the other waiters huddled among themselves. They keep throwing glances at me as they talk. A small shudder rips through my bones. What do they want now? I imagine. I find out soon enough. As I make my way out of the diner, the loudest of the other waiters rounds me up. Her name is Jean, a boisterous cousin to Jemma.

  “Jean,” I say to her in greeting.

  She ignores the courtesies. “I’ve been seeing the way men look at you. Hell, if I was a man those titties of yours will sure distract me.”

  I stare down at my cotton blouse. My round bosoms do press against the shirt as if trying to escape. It is a size too small, yet there is nothing I can do about it. I cannot afford many shirts. Jean touches my thin waist and I flinch from her.

  “That thing between your legs can pay top dollar if you use it.”

  “Excuse me?” I cannot believe what I am hearing.

  “Yes me, I tried it. It works. Just go round the back and stick your butt out to him.”

  I shift away from her. All I want is a decent job, not this hassle about my sexuality. It doesn’t help that I have a full rounded feminine figure; ample bosoms, a thin waist, visible hips and perfectly round buttocks. My looks are average. I wish they were nonexistent though. A mature girl in this town will not be left alone unless she is married. If only the handsome god of my dreams could appear and take me to his castle. I grimace. I feel stupid for thinking that dreams can come true.

  Without warning, Jean grabs my upper right arm. She pulls me closer to her. Her hot putrid breath enters my ears with the vile of her words.

  “There is a man out back. He is waiting for you behind the kitchen,” she says.

  “What does he want?” I ask with my eyes wide.

  “All I know is he will cut aunt Jemma a good deal if you see him. Don’t you see, this is your chance? You’ve been so bad at your job. Do it or you’re fired.”

  A shiver runs down my spine. Against my will, I find my legs carrying me to the back of the kitchen. I cannot lose yet another job. How will I fund my way out of town? A small voice echoes in my ear. How will I find my prince by working in such a dump where I am harassed day and night? I have no answer to either question.

  As I step out from the diner’s kitchen, I hug myself. The sun may be setting but it is still hot. I feel a cool trickle of sweat drip between my breasts. Even my bra is a size too small as I can’t afford a new one. I readjust it as I approach the figure standing in the shadows. From the distance, it appears as though I am groping my own breasts, I realize belatedly. The figure steps out of the shadows.

  “Oh, hello sir,” I say to the short giant of a man standing in front of me. I have seen him before, many times. He is my mother’s friend though I am suspicious of the nature of their relationship. I do not know his name.

  “Alice,” he says. He grins, exposing nicotine-stained teeth.

  “Are you the one looking for me?” I ask.

  He shuffles nervously. “Yes, yes.”

  We stand to stare at each other for a long moment. My eyes pour over his body. He is a heavy boned, thick man. The only disadvantage is that he stands at the same height as me. He is not a handsome man, as no man in this town is. Though his face is not grotesque to look at, the smell pouring from his breath is a hideous mix of nicotine, alcohol, and tartar. My eyes fall on his hands. They are thick hands, and one of them is stuck in the pocket of his jeans. I may be naïve, but I am certain he is clutching his appendage. He must be excited at the sight of me. That disgusts me. I suspect he’s been with my mother several times.

  “What is it you say you want to do for aunt Jemma’s business?” I want to go home before the sun sets. Better to get over with it quickly.

  “Why? I will pay her a lot of money.”

  “Isn’t that nice?” I say, uncertain.

  “Not nice of me but nice of you. Give me a good kiss now, won’t you? She said you would ”

  I am taking a step back when he grapples me. I find myself pinned against the wall, his thick body pressing against mine. Before I can help myself, he presses his face against mine. I open my mouth to scream when I feel a hot moist tongue push into my mouth. The tongue tastes awful. I cannot vouch for the aggressor ever having brushed his teeth. I feel like retching even as I struggle against his weight. I decide it’s not going to work.

  In my attempt to get away from him, he pushes his thick hand into my pants. His rough hand feels like a nightmare against my buttock which he grabs with ferocity. I whimper in disgust. He is reaching between my legs when I duck and esc
ape from between his legs. In my rush, I feel his erection against my forehead. I don’t stop to think, I just run. He turns to see me go, belatedly.

  “I can marry you, you know!” he shouts unkindly.

  I do not stop running. Still in motion, I turn my head to see if he is pursuing me. He is not. Jean is there with him. I wonder if she’d been watching the whole time. She must be there to compensate for me leaving because I see her getting on her knees. Shortly after, her head bobs in and out, while a look of ecstasy washes over the man whom I’d believed was my mother’s friend. There and then, I decide to cut my losses. I will never go back to Jemma’s diner again.

  I am still running when I feel a small pebble hit me. I slow down to scan where it came from. I spot a familiar young man in a red Chevy car pull up to me. He throws another stone at me. This time, it misses. In the dark, I can hardly make out his face. Nonetheless, I know him too well. He is the most annoying person I have ever come across.

  “Watch it, Carlos!”

  “A girl like you shouldn’t be strolling alone in the dark,” he says to me.

  “I was running. And what is your business, throwing stones at people in the dark and whatnot?”

  “It was the only way I could get your attention since you didn’t notice my new car.”

  “It’s nice,” I lie. It’s old and falling apart.

  “Get in,” he beckons with his head.

  I hesitate. I have had enough drama for the day. Carlos White grins at me. I can see his teeth in the dark.

  “Please,” he says.

  “No funny business?”

  “None,” he promises.

  He stops the car for me to enter. I take the passenger seat. Carlos is clad in a black sweat suit that conceals his body. His beady eyes take me in as I make myself comfortable. I’ve known him all my life so I am certain of what he can and cannot do. That doesn’t stop him, though. He is always making advances toward me.

  “Where do you get this car?” I ask, trying out a neutral subject.

  Carlos puts the car into drive. I am relieved to see he is driving in the direction of my home. He must be in a very good mood, I imagine.

  “Fixed it up in a garage,” he tells me. His eyes keep coming back to me. I ignore him. In a bid to impress me, he turns on the radio. It only sputters and coughs. He turns it off. “Radio still needs fixing… Just that, and I am on the road.”

  “You are leaving town?” I cannot hide the excitement in my voice. I’d always dreamed of leaving.

  “Yes. I know of a cool diner out of town; serves real nice food too. I can work in the kitchen there. I know the owner…” he says.

  This is too smooth for someone like Carlos, I know. He is leading me on, I think. Carlos stops the vehicle. I stare out the window and I’m impressed to see that he’s brought me straight home – a shabby excuse for a building that badly needs to be demolished.

  I smile at him and then take my exit. He holds my hand before I am completely out. His round eyes plead with me.

  “What should I do for you to like me, Alice?”

  I know his terminology. “By like, you mean sleep with you?” His eyes glisten but he says nothing. I inhale. Perhaps I have found my one-way ticket.

  “At that diner of yours, do they need any waitresses…” I remember how bad I am at waiting so I add, “…or, or dishwashers?”

  It is his turn to give me a toothy grin. “Yes, that and more.”

  “No jokes?”

  “Would I lie to you, Alice?”

  I bait him. “You want me to like you like you, Carlos?”

  “Yes please.”

  “Then drive me out of this town.”

  Chapter 4

  Erien

  The Mother tree moans like a bitter widow. As I approach, her stench corrupts my senses, leaving a sour taste on my long tongue. Shadowed by two tall guards, I throw back my shoulders even if my stomach protests with a queer sound. I should be apprehensive, and yet I am too stubborn to ponder of my impending doom.

  When the double gates leading to the Mother tree loom, the guards fall back. Only royal blood can approach without surrendering his ghost. I do not look back. I am too upset to.

  The gates are tall arcs of gleaming steel. Each gate is unique; one is cast into the form of a pregnant Soleroid – the mother of all Soleroids. Her face is fearsome, with two red luminous rubies placed where her eyes should have been. Her eyes seem to follow one in any direction while her hand is ever protective on her round belly. Bent against her is the figure of a man. His body makes up the other gate. He is bent over, his lips touching the pregnant belly of the other gate. He is said to be the Great Brodmit Helugad. The first Soleroid. My father was named after him. I am supposed to be in his bloodline. I scowl. He looks too fat to me.

  “Open, gates of my mother, father, and Kings of times past!” I announce to the gate. “I seek your audience to prove my repentant heart.” My voice has no hint of repentance in it. This is just another chore I have to get over with.

  The red rubies seem to brighten as they examine me. They must like what they see for the gate opens. A low groaning sound like that of a sleeping giant fills the space as hot wind tingle my skin. The gate is open to me. Inside, I behold the obscurest place in all Solasis. I can hardly make out the dark effigies that are carved on the spherical wall within, though I know some are statues of goats with the face of men, lions with teeth of lamb, and the ancient Kings faces staring down from above. The only light comes from low glowing stones that make everything within appear to be a living creature, asleep and waiting to be awakened by the light. Of course, the Mother tree hates the sun.

  “Erien… Son of Brodmit Heluka, and right hand to the king of our future… Erien,” a throaty voice carries from beyond the gates.

  I stop short to the entrance.

  “Please Mother tree, what I would do just to see your face?” I lie.

  I am still thinking about Sasha. How her body had heaved against my brother. Had she been faking it? I muse. I do not think my brother’s appendage is as appealing as mine. I shrug, at no one in particular.

  “And what great gift the sun gives, to bring you to me today. Now hurry in before it scorches my little eyes. I shouldn’t be blind before I see your face again.”

  Here we go again, I muse. I stride my long legs past the gate.

  Before I can get a hold of my bearings, the gates shut behind me. I am buried in the darkness. The only things I can see are low glowing stones that cast fearsome shadows in the dark. The glowing stones are tiny compared to the large dark rocks that sit haphazardly across the closed spherical arena. It should have been an indoor garden, I convince myself. At least, it was until Mother tree took it as her dwelling – then not a single plant dares grow as she has locked down the place in darkness. Not that the Mother tree is in any way evil. She just hates the ever-shining light. And for a place where the sun never sets, Mother trees dark lair conjures silent terrors for the commoner, and a mere inconvenience for the royal.

  “You are too quiet!” A sharp finger jabs me in the back.

  Swiftly, I jump out of the way to avoid feeling her talons against my skin. I move very carefully so as not to skid off the mud that covers the ground. Mother tree prefers to walk barefoot. She says she likes the cooling effect of the mud. I think she just likes to be dirty.

  I stare Mother tree up and down. Her large shiny owlish eyes smile up at me. Those eyes fill half her face. They are so large that her mouth and nose appear disproportionately tiny. I’d cried the first time I’d seen her face. It was when I was a wee toddler and had been caught stealing pots from the royal kitchen and piling them in my room, for the thrill of it. My punishment had been to see the Mother tree. Then, I did not know that something so ugly could ever exist. I’d screamed my poor lungs out. She’d just stared at me with kindness, as she is now.

  “Erien…” she says my name, as though I am her long lost lover. “I didn’t think I would see you again
.”

  “It is hard to live up to a saint,” I say.

  I am certain Kravis will find Mother tree unbearable to look upon. He has never been to see her because he is always so good. Mother tree is half my height, her thick green skin is cracked like bark, and her head is quite symmetrical with her square shoulders. She doesn’t have a neck to separate the two. And, I can barely see her feet. They are buried beneath the mud. Her body is covered with a thick cloth. I suspect the cloth is made from the skin of a dead animal. It smells so.

  Mother tree is not a tree, alright. Her longevity and uncanny look have earned her the name. Of course, the ordinary Soleroids do not know she is merely another Soleroid – except she has never died. Otherwise, they wouldn’t fear her so much even if they still die like flies when they near her gate. Not that they have the chance to; Mother tree is sheltered at the heart of castle – a mound of dirt at the center of a Diamond encrusted mine.