A coarse hand came flying through the air and landed directly across my ear. I collapsed onto the ground with such force, that the skin on my small hands tore apart upon impact. But that was not the worst of the pain, the ringing in my ears made it so I could not even understand the next orders being barked, which landed blow after blow atop my head.
I screamed out in terror, which to my surprise stopped the assault.
"Oh so it does have a voice!" The large man looked delighted.
"She doesn't need to speak, Asim, she is a slave girl! She need only obey orders." The younger man assured him, facing me with a sickening smile. He approached me slowly, knelt down, and cupped my terrified face with his hands.
"Yes... isn't that right sweetheart? You won't go and do something that will make me regret having made an bad investment." He caressed my cheek with a finger.
"You're obedient. Aren't you, doll eyes." It was not a question. He was commanding me. Tears streamed down my face, but still I uttered nothing. Nodding my head seemed to satisfy him. He rose, and the rest of the men followed, the fat one violently pulling my arm behind him.
They brought me to a dirty, broken down house in the dead of night. I saw the faint light of candles burning behind a torn curtained windows. The place was made of clay, not more than two or three small rooms in total. The first room we entered, was empty except for a wooden table in the corner with a candle burning. The second room, separated by another dirty curtain was pitch black. I could hear quiet breathing coming from the room that was dark. My heart sank with fear. I had not even had time to grieve the separation of my mother and uncle before being stolen and taken to this place. I thought should they leave me alone for a moment, I would waste away in ashes, as my mind then could not fathom how my heart had not stopped beating yet. It was just earlier that morning that I was taken from the last of my kin.
Wondering with both hope and despair, if they were alive still. And if so, I prayed they would somehow find me.
The men went to sit around the table and began muttering about business. I sat in the farthest corner from them, when suddenly it dawned on me that I was closer to the door than they were. The exit was no more than one or two meters away from where I was. I looked over and saw the men still immersed in conversation, their voices growing louder and more animated as they spoke. If there was ever a moment in time to escape, now was the best time to do it.
I would run back to where the market was and find a hiding place to sleep until dawn. From there, I would find the closest temple to take refuge in, perhaps whoever oversaw it could even help me find my mother. My heart beat furiously with new found hope. Fate was giving me a second chance, it still was not too late. The confirmation came with a surge of electricity that ran through my hands, and with that surge, I took a deep breath and dove out the door.
~~~
Saref closed the curtains to Iman Alirah's room before heading to the main hall where the others were. People sat drinking tea, murmuring amongst themselves or listening to a few of the musicians strum their instruments. The atmosphere was so alive whenever the Master was in the house. The pulse could be felt from well passed the gates outside. A kind of inexplicable electricity that both intoxicated and energized those around.
Aphra was sitting alone in the corner by the entrance, drinking tea and listening to the music. As Saref walked in, she instinctively looked up to see him ushering her to come. She stood up at once and went to him.
"The Master would like to speak with you," he spoke quietly. "If you will, please follow me this way."
The songs of the musicians grew faint as they walked through another hall and slowly approached the curtained door. Aphra noticed she was holding her breath, and exhaled quietly, her hands moist with nervousness. She wiped her palms against her legs in an effort to calm down. Saref turned around and faced her.
"I will announce you now," he nodded as he knocked on the rim of the door.
"Come in!"
Saref drew open the curtains, and they both entered the large room. They stood there by the entrance, Aphra looking over to Saref to mirror his actions out of respect. One palm over the other, with his head slightly bowed.
"Please, please..!" Iman Alirah smiled. "Closer! Come sit here." He gestured to a sheep skin rug, the same one Saref sat on opposite of before going to get the girl.
Aphra went to sit just as the Gatekeeper bowed his head to turn and leave.
"Saref! Where are you going? Please join us," the Master said, smiling at him.
When all were settled, Iman Alirah poured tea for everyone. Aphra's eyes remained fixed on the floor while she waited for someone to speak. Nothing happened for a while. Silence filled the chambers and enveloped her with more anticipation. After some time, she looked up slowly to see the Master observing her without any expression.
Averting her gaze for a moment, she thought about what the courtesy would be with regards to being in the presence of someone whose remnants of self had burned away into the light. If there was no self to offend, could she then look straight into the eyes of a Master? Or would basic etiquette have been to look down with reverence?
"It is in the silences, I find, people muse about the principles of dogma and fate." He spoke finally. Aphra looked back at him. "Your fate, for instance, has led you here."
"If that so, fate has both a kind and cruel hand," blurted the girl, surprised by her own words.
The Master smiled, his eyes lost in the intricate design of the rug in front of him. He sipped his tea.
Saref all the while sat, with one hand clasped over the other. Listening.
"It feels that way, doesn't it?" The Master nodded, eyes shining while studying the rug. "To make a choice from a unfair circumstance not of your own choosing. How to continue? Here or there? From wherever the undertow has dragged you to, with no compass. No map. Yet still, by design, a choice is made."
Aphra's brows drew together.
"It cannot really be our choice then, if that choice is born from a forced circumstance." Aphra responded, trying not to frown. "With respect, freedom of choice is a mirage, you most of all know this. It is a folly concept given to fools as an opiate to ease their minds from an otherwise unforgiving world."
The Master's eyes remained calmly on the girl as she spoke.
"I cannot pretend to know all the secrets of this universe. But I do know the nature of men. And I know what desperation can do to those who are forced to make what you call, "a choice"."
Aphra felt fluid thicken in her throat. She grit her teeth so that her eyes would not water, though she felt only anger and sorrow now, recalling a past she thought she had finally left behind. "There is only a wheel, your Grace. In its spinning, it spins dreams. I know that I am dreaming, but pain is still felt within a dream. And the scars still remain even after waking."
Stunned, Saref lifted his head and looked at the girl. She continued.
"If Fate then should symbolize this wheel, that which governs it is from beyond this place. Time is subservient to it. Humans are morsels for it. And when the wheel decides to turn again, we are at the mercy of its force. Wherever we land, we land. When at last that wheel stops spinning. Perhaps then we can finally cease dreaming."
In the Master's hand was a date that he held all the while Aphra spoke. He placed it in front of her.
She stared at the fruit for a moment, then looked back up.
"How did Fate's second chance unfold?" Iman Alirah asked, his dark eyes beaming.
The girl opened her mouth to speak, then closed it immediately.
"...excuse me?" Aphra managed, confused.
"You never reached the temple the following morning. That was your original choice. What choice did you make then with the hand that was given?"
~~~
There have been only two incidences in my life where time stood completely still. The first time it happened was the last time I ever saw my mother. One moment, we were rushing through a crowded market, with my hand tightly clasped in hers. And the next moment, I was snatched away, before she could even turn her head back around, my family was swallowed by the crowd as I was dragged off with unfathomable speed.
The moment before this happened, she knelt down to remove a golden necklace I had worn since I could remember. On the locket was my name engraved. She put it around her neck and buried it under a thick shawl that covered her hair. Grabbing my little hands in her, she warned me crowded markets were famous for thieves, and did not want the heirloom to be stolen from around my neck.
"I will safe guard it for you, my love." She said to me, as she kissed my fingers. "Until we are out of here. Stay close to me."
It was in that moment. Time stopped.
I felt the pulse of the market slow to a halt. The crowds frozen in pace. My mother's dark eyes, bright and luminous, bore directly into mine. I will never forget the expression on her face. Her lips still quivered from the tragedy that transpired only days before, but the light in her eyes remained after everything that had happened. I saw behind her iris, a force of divine grace.
She looked so vulnerable in that moment. Strands of black hair tucked behind her shawl. I saw her for a moment not as my mother, but a woman who had lost four children, a husband, and witnessed her only surviving daughter be raped only yards away. Upon the many layers of different emotions behind her gaze, at the base was a heartbreaking look of apology.
I brought my hands up to my mother's face and breathed in her scent, that familiar aroma from my childhood filling up my nostrils. All the memories we shared during happier times. Her laughter, the dimples in her cheeks. With eyes closed, I knew time had already resumed. She stood back up. I never got to thank her, I never got to say goodbye.
The very moment after, for that gift of pause, time sped twice the faster and in those minutes that followed, my hand was never held by hers again.