Most of us long to "Be" but when the path gets too costly, or steep, we take solace in what we "Have." Remove the trappings of what we own, and then what is the sum of us?
They were the survivors, abandoned by the allies who swore to protect, in...
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Nathan spent his subsequent days in the cavernous steel kitchen engaged in endless toil. There was a never ending supply of pots to scour, floors to wash, ovens to clean and fuel, and an endless stream of meals to prepare and distribute throughout the vast underground complex. For one so accustomed to the open spaces above, this place seemed to Nathan as though he was sentenced to the very bowels of hell itself. The new boy had been made well aware that he was not permitted to leave the confines of this cloistered new world. His new and very possessive master Robbie saw to that, he had been warned his punishment for doing so would be very severe.
The days were always long and hard, Nathan was shoved from Robbie's sour unkempt bed in the predawn hours, but only after he had pleasured the cook each dawn to the obese man's satisfaction.
"Cleanliness is as close to godliness as we mortals ever get." Robbie would remark in his tittering voice, whilst his new Master's piggish gaze bored into his naked back admiring his every angle.
Nathan would wash as he was instructed in the small ceramic basin perched on its rusted iron stand in the corner, run a comb through his light blond hair, then don his crumpled clothes. Shivers of revulsion wracked him, for he found the cook very distasteful indeed and longed only to be above ground again with his true master Wezley Bennett. He sighed inwardly with longing, lean strong and hard, something to be admired, not soft, flabby, and constantly perspiring like this fat pig of a man he now had the misfortune to serve. Still he knew this hideous man would ensure his survival for the time being whilst he formulated his plan of escape. So he played the part of the perfect slave boy, never once giving the cook reason for complaint.
He would then spend his next eighteen hours or so in the adjoining kitchen where the other three slaves were already up and about commencing the days tasks. Everyone there knew their job and there was little chatter, it was an oppressive atmosphere indeed. The four youths toiled in silence, sharing only fleeting stares to the background sounds such as the hiss of escaping steam from the boiling cast iron pots on the hulking black stove top, and the crackle of the hot coals ensconced within.
The three other inmates of Robbie's world cohabited in one of the other equally dark, musty, cellar storage rooms. All sleeping together on a very worn, vermin eaten mattress thrown down haphazardly on the cold earthen floor. There were no blankets to keep out the cold and the damp so at nights they huddled together miserably catching what little sleep they could.
The girl was no more than twelve years of age, her body not yet showing the first signs of puberty, probably due to her poor living conditions. She possessed, unkempt, perfectly straight dark brown hair, that fell to her mid back. This she tied back from her hollow face with a ragged piece of cloth. She had deep set, dark brown eyes that never looked up from the floor or her tasks. She would make eye contact with no one, her submission driven into her from childhood. This slave girl of the kitchens was furtive and sullen, her skin pale with a waxy gray unhealthy pallor to it. Nathan only knew her name as bitch, that was all Robbie and the other boys referred to her as. She was treated as dirt by all.
