Modeled after Giovanni Boccaccio's classic from the 14th Century, this collection similarly brought 100+ short stories to Wattpad readers. The original's premise was simple: ten individuals entertained themselves over a span of ten days by telling a...
noun: land that has undergone plowing and harrowing and has been left unseeded for one or
more growing seasons
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The hint of color rising above the ocean marked the start of day nine.
Herald surveyed the horizon. The seagulls and waves ebbed through his consciousness, pacifying at least some of his unease.
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He stole another breath on borrowed time. Then shivered the chilly mist out of his sweater as he climbed the spiral staircase to the lighthouse watch room. "Circle round, everyone. Captain wants to meet you...officially."
"What's the occasion?" Law slammed closed his copy of Jurisprudence for the Modern Man. "We've been hiding here for how long? Suddenly he cares a Fallow about more than his fine collection of wives?"
Law shouldn't have said that for more than one reason. Captain was their patron and was invested in the success of The Verity Chronicles more than just financially. And he wasn't able to hear what Law said—he was likely just leaving his island fortress—and neither could any of his wives—twelve to be exact—but two of Herald's female writers were Fallow.
"Captain's generosity is the reason we're safe. Let's not forget that."
Herald glanced at Parody, his political cartoonist, and Doxy, author of gritty true narratives about her Fallow way of life. They whispered among themselves, disdainfully amused, but didn't seem anymore put off by Law than usual.
Even with shaved heads and metal studs inserted into their lips—both mandatory—Herald had to admire society's shunned women. But he was among the few.
Mingling with the Fallow was allegedly the equivalent of social suicide, regardless of class, and any physical relations with them were illegal on top of that. Poor men typically had enough problems—in theory—and men like Captain would have no need to bother—also in theory. Assuming a man was able to purchase Marriage Bonds, he could keep in his possession—even after death—as many wives as he desired as long as the girls in question had reached the legal Bearing Age of twenty-one. These virgins—confirmed by Maineland-sanctioned surgeons—could then choose, marriage or Fallow, until their twenty-fifth year, when they would become Fallow by decree. If that were the case or if a woman of any age committed High Sin, married or not, then she'd lose her hair, her appearance, all food beyond what was necessary to survive, and even her capacity to procreate.
