Millie

1

"As we sit here today, I pray you all remember the man who gave us this life, Father Romie." The woman's voice echoed throughout the small, empty room. Her white gown and blue apron hung to her waist, making her look smaller, but, also, much larger than she actually was.

The woman always said the same thing to the crowd of women that came to the preaching. She made it seem as all was well. As though the night before Shonna was not beaten mercilessly by a thin branch. Looking to her right, Millie saw the healing wounds that were battered on Shonna's dark skin.

Looking back to the front, her hair nestled closely to the nape of her neck, she saw Father Romie walk into the room. It was the same strut he always did, walk into the wooden cottage with his left foot and ending on his right to look at the group.

His long, dark hair pulled back; he held a book wrapped in a leather cover with gold writing in his left hand. Lifting the book up in front of his people, he waited for the silencing of the crowd.

Millie watched his every movement; how his arm flexed in his white button up, and how he gripped the book so sternly that his knuckles turned white. She was, in no doubt, afraid of him.

He was the type of man to punish them if they dare ask questions or try to rebuttal any of his responses, as to what happened to Shonna.

Father Romie began to speak, "Thank you, Celine. As you may all know, Anquenette here, is pregnant. Now, based on my predictions, my child should be delivered soon," he continued, "So it would be nice if you all settle down and make the preparations. And, as much as it upsets me to say this, I have to reinforce the rules harder."

He opened his book, the pages making a crisp sound as they were flipped.

"Because some of you have forgotten, the rules are as follows: No talking about events from the past, including but not limited to, two-plus years ago. My say is final say, as women, you have no sense of direction, and need a man, like myself, to help guide you on your way. Any 'possessions' must be reported to me. Anyone who breaks these rules are subject to leathering." With one last look, he turned away.

Taking a deep breath in, Millie stood patiently waiting for the door of the shack to open. The room was lit by one window and a small candle that was a quarter till done. As the old wooden frame opened, the women piled out of the room.

"I very much fancy him," Lydia whispered to Millie. Her golden locks were in a neat plait, evenly spaced out along her head. Shaking her head, Millie let out a long sigh. "He has such a way of words. I cannot wait for my crowning!"

"What even is crowning? I've asked almost everybody that has been crowned, but they never get a straightforward answer." Millie couldn't help but be curious. The excitement towards the crowning was never left unnoticed, but what actually went down was never mentioned.

"I heard from Lily that her mom said it was how something as special as us was made." The love in Lydia's eyes traveled as she watched Father Romie from a distance. "Millie, your hair is falling."

Reaching up, Millie felt as the small elastics that held her long hair up began to loosen. Finding a spot on the grass, she sat down. Her blue dress melted down her skin and hung loose. Lydia, sitting next to her, started tugging at her hair.

"You know," Lily began, "Your hair is very vibrant, I wish we had more of it."

"Father Romie says I got it from my mom." Feeling her throat tighten up, she stopped talking. Her red locks were a gift to her, at least that's what Father Romie had told her. Her skin as pale as snow, locks as red as fire, and eyes as green as the forest she resided in.

She was a gift of beauty.