Junk Box

By the Light of the Moon

Your uniform fits me almost perfectly if you can ignore the fact that my belly is too large for the shirt. However, I merely just wrap your cloak tighter around me, and that fact vanishes.

I look back at your sleeping form sprawled across the bed and almost feel a twinge of guilt.

You have been good to me, better than most of the soldiers when they come to spend their mandatory one night per week assignment.

You actually seemed to care for me, refusing to bed another. You chose me for whatever reason, and you protected this new life growing in me even though you should have reported it four months ago.

You trusted me enough by this point to actually fall asleep next to me, body curled like a shield around my body. It was like you wanted to protect me, that our six years together and our six children have meant something to you. Almost as if you loved me, as if you would have married me if the law allowed it.

However, you didn't stop them from taking the first six babies we created, that I nurtured and birthed. You let them rip them from my arms as both babe and mother wailed.

I have to leave. There is something better for me out in that world. Something that is much better than staying in this compound and bearing child after child only to have them ripped away.

So I cast one more glance at your sleeping form, the way you still curl around my vacant side as if I were there and the way your features soften in sleep and your scars appear lighter.

Then I slip out the door, careful to shut gently as to stop the hinges from creaking.

You will replace me soon enough with another, perhaps prettier or more naïve than me. Will you miss me three months from now? Will you mourn the loss of our seventh child?

I am out of the filthy place by now, heart aching for everyone like me still trapped within. I trudge on though, feeling your boots rub blisters onto my skin.

I have planned this escape ever since I discovered I was pregnant again. A small rowboat is my way out, tucked out of sight just beyond the drain in the wall.

I push the boat into the river and row against the stream, feeling free from the tyrannical grasp of those who rule our lives.

I keep rowing, grateful for the moonless night but cursing it all the same.

My arms are screaming, and I have lost track of how far I have gone. I just have to find the willow grove before I am free forever.

The light is starting to fill the sky when I spy my destination. I set my oars down and hop out of the boat, pulling against the current to the grove.

There is a shadow hidden there, and as I reach them, I whisper the phrase my mother taught me, "By the light of the moon."

The person leaps into action and helps me pull the boat to shore. They are shrouded in a cloak, but I see their feet are bare.

Then they push back their hood, and I see your face staring at me, a smile splitting across it.

"By the light of the moon, the prisoner will be set free," you mutter back before kissing my lips. "Come, love, we must go before the day grows any older. Our children wait for us."

I take your hand and smile at your words, allowing you to draw me away towards our new life.
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Yay, something somewhat happy has emerged in this collection. It's about time.
This story originated from a strange dream I woke from the other night where a young woman stood on the banks of a river, pregnant and alone, and said in a low voice, "By the light of the moon."
I might just have to take this story later and expand it. Definitely, something to think about...
As always, please comment and review.
Abigail