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Ripe

Page 2

by Ashlynn

They laugh as they smear wine and blood across one another’s bodies. A woman drops to her knees beside the table and eats something directly from another woman’s hand.

No one seems ashamed or afraid.

They’re celebrating—because the Harvest came. Because the fields grew. Because their bellies are full….but most of all—mine isn’t empty anymore.

My stomach twists and I vomit into the dirt.

Something moves under the puddle. A tiny white root pushes through it—then another.

The people closest to me gasp and someone whispers, “She’s ripening.”

My blood turns cold.

Malakai whispers against my ear. “Run.”

I stare at him in confusion. “What?”

“RUN!” he growls then shoves me.

The chanting stops and for one beautiful second, the entire field goes silent.

Then chaos.

I run.

My bare feet tear over the dirt while corn slaps my face and someone screams behind me.

A man—I know that voice too.

Rhett.

I look back. I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help myself.

Rhett Winslow tackles one of the elders into the feast table. The wood cracks and plates explode across the ground. Then he drives his fist into the man’s face again and again while laughing.

Of course he’s fucking laughing.

Then his eyes meet mine. “GO!” he roars.

So I run harder as the corn closes between us. Branches tear at my skin.

No. Not branches—corn leaves.

They slice my arms like tiny knives—it fucking stings.

My lungs burn the faster I run and the thing inside me moves again. Only downward this time and I nearly fall.

“Please.” I say out loud to no one. I don’t know who I’m begging at this point. God. The Earth. My mother. Anyone.

“Please.”

Then a figure steps between the rows ahead, causing me to stop.

He’s tall, broad and motionless with a mask covering his face. Wood—bone… I don’t know.

They made it this afternoon. I watched them. Watched the women, stitch dried stalks through the crown. Watched the elders paint old symbols across its forehead. I watched them place it over his face while he fought hard enough that four men had to hold him down.

The mouth is sewn shut with black cord. But I know who stands beneath it.