I used to be a slave-catcher.
We caught them, we shaved their heads, we put them in a blue jumpsuit, we put them to work.
I broke the rules, I fell in love with a catch, such beautiful red hair, such beautiful green eyes, such beauty.
What would a man do to protect all that beauty?
I ran, I took her with me, we ran together.
The further we ran, the more I loved her.
The more I loved her, the harder I fought to protect her.
The harder I fought, the more men I killed.
The more men they lost, the harder they chased.
In the end, I did not fight hard enough.
* * * * *
My freshly-shaven head feels cold, cold like my heart.
The jumpsuit chafes my skin, but the blue definitely suits the colour of my soul.
All that beauty has been taken from me.
And I still live.
My heart will ache for the rest of my life.
In the gaseous tunnels of the Basidium mines beneath the surface of Epsilon 4, 'life' is about six months max.
©2010 Stephen. J. Green.