C4 The Castle (Alicia Chay)

A tall, burly man with a complexion darker than my own searched for a place to rest. He seemed lost in the wilderness. I was hungry. As his feet scampered across the wet grass, he tripped over a wrought log. A small cut was on his upper arm. I lost it. I ran at him and tore through his flesh like I hadn't eaten in a decade. After I fled, I wound up behind a hidden castle in Europe. I was surrounded by towering trees and brush shortly after I transitioned from human to freak of nature. I could taste the end of summer and the birth of autumn on the breeze as a huge glowing moon beamed down on my exhausted naked body. I was covered in blood. I was wrought with temporary amnesia as I floated along a beautiful rose garden leading to the entrance of an infrastructure built by slaves.

I was the Queen of THE HOUSE OF THE HOUNDS at the time. Settling on the threshold of the elite castle, I saw her, the tyrant, a Queen named Gree Lufu. Infatuated with her beauty, she lovingly stared at her reflection in tinkling glass-encased on a wall in her massive bedroom. I inhaled her scent to learn her history, the origin of her being, and to better understand her. She came from a long line of royal figures. She was responsible for thousands of deaths in Egypt on her mission for control, power, and blood diamonds. When she was thirteen, she inherited the throne after her Queen mother and King father was poisoned by an unknown perpetrator in the royal family.

Bearing a resilient blood diamond crown, she ruled for three decades with an iron thumb and a cold heart against her male contemporaries in neighboring countries. After all, she poisoned her parents and took the throne. That act alone would influence me in the near future. Inwardly, I smiled as Queen Gree admired the shape of her breasts. She hated the bend of her frail hips and her flat romp. She was addicted to self-induced pleasure. Power and control were her incorrigible lovers. I studied her, her breathing pattern, her passion... the unmistakable energy did nothing for me.

After four dark-skinned male slaves submissively bathed her, a dark-skinned woman dressed in rations washed Gree's hair as fear and loss danced in her bright hazel eyes. Gree gave an unhappy smile as a few slaves told her good night after bowing at her feet, then kissing the diamond pendant hanging on her neck, leaving her with the nappy-headed slave woman. Once the slaves left her bedroom, Gree and the slave noticed a falling star. Gree wished she could live forever. The slave had another wish. One that befell my ears as if someone screamed it at me with fierce abandon the instant the star lost its shine and faded into the glittery darkness. The type of wail that buckled bulls from an ounce of its undefined frequency.

My heart pounded in cadence with hers. Could it be that when I looked at her I saw a part of my past human selfthat happened to be her? For a moment the silence was as deafening as finality. Then Gree began to groan, dissatisfied with the performance of her slaves as of late. Maybe she should have her guards whip them back into shape with sharp rawhides. After all they were her property and property didn't have basic human rights nor did they get treated with decency.

Gree gazed at the poor woman with a disquieting hate. "I didn't like how you styled my hair for my last event, Coffey. I should have known. That's what I get for trusting you to consistently work up to my code of impossible expectation."

The dark-skinned woman with mountanous thick hair refused to meet her critical eyes. "Coffey, are you deaf? Do you need a beating?"

Coffey began to tremble.

Abruptly, Gree slapped her across the face, hopping up to her feet in the tub. She nearly slipped and broke her neck. A trolley horse captivated the vein in his upper right thigh, briefly crippling her. "Ow! Ow! Dear heavens, what was that?" Water splashed onto the floor. "I'm speaking to you, imbecile! I didn't like the way you made me look in front of my contemporaries with that hideous wig. Come to think of it you probably poisoned the meal I devoured before my bath!"

Coffey kept quiet. As long as she remained idle, Queen Gree would eventually move on to more pressing matters in her white privileged life. Gree snapped, yanking Coffey by the afro. "You still evade my concerns? You ungrateful girl."

Coffey tussled with her master as Gree picked up a pair of sheers, cutting patches of Coffey's hair from her scalp, tossing it over her shoulder. "Winter time is present. I need a new sweater. I wonder what your hair would look like as a form of fashion for the new ages of the future. Yes! I could invent a line of womenwear with the texture of your stinking hair and force you to sign over the rights to me!"

Pushing Coffey on the wooden floor, Gree leaned over and scooped up Coffey's hair with trembling hands. "What's so special about your kind to have hair this rich in texture?"

Queen Gree pulled out black yarn and thread from a wooden basket on a near-by table by a row of hanging ballroom gowns made by the hands of the elder women slaves that served as maids that even wiped her backside after every bowl movement. The the way her eyes came alive made me frown as this pale faced woman wanted to be that beautiful dark skin woman, who actually has the same skin tone, skin complexion as mine. I looked at Coffey closely. We had the same type of hair, the same type of skin tone, mouth-watering hips. We were very voluptuous women.

The last slave that rebelled and protested against Gree was beheaded. Once Gree was done sewing patches of thick hair together, she held it up against her temple, burning with jealousy and envy. "Why don't my hair have this type of volume andb definition?"

Coffey looked in the mirror, weakened by huge patches in her head. Gree put the stitched hair atop her head and took a few steps back from the tinkling glass mirror. Gravely, she looked herself over.

"You see, Coffey. I'm just as pretty with your hair. Honestly..." Gree looked to the left then the right, grinning from ear to ear. 'What do you think, girl? Yes, no...?"

Coffey remained as quiet as the tears rolling down her face.... "I look prettier because I'm white. Never forget that. You work and sweat for me! I am your God! As a matter of fact, bow to me!"

Coffey refused to bow to her. At that point she'd rather die and sleep peacefully.

Offended, Gree smacked her with the wooden wig. "Bow to me!"

Reluctantly, Coffey looked away. Gree picked up a rawhide and whipped Coffey until she fell to her knees in pain and surrender. "Who is your God, you worthless vermin?"

Coffey remained quiet....