"Untie my Wings: Introduction" by Sophie Hansen

God only knows when this all started. I only know what I am told, what I've heard, and what I've seen. And what I've seen I may not remember, the details of my experiences may be lost or twisted by my emotions or desire to forget. My story is not short, nor is it easy, but I will share it with you, in the hopes that the memory of my all too short existence will be remembered by someone when the inevitable shadow of death overcomes me, be it by the hands of another or my own. I would rather be hatefully remembered, or pitied by those I do not know... than forgotten.



I suppose I should start at the beginning, but no one remembers the day of their birth. I don't even have others I can talk to that were present for the event, and therefore know nothing of my parents, nor even my real age. But my name is Alleah, as was given to me by my captors, and my race is bat.



I do know, however, my place of birth, I saw it listed on my slave pedigree that I'd been 'collected' (a kinder term for 'kidnapped' or 'stolen') from a small village hidden in a cave-like enclosure. If gives the location, my approximate age, and makes especially sure to note that my parents were of pure blood, God knows purebreds would fetch a finer price and a half-breed, and therefore described them down to their sizes and each of their coat and eye colors, but unfortunately nothing of their names or identities. It is the only record I have of my parents, of the life I was wrenched from so young.




I know not what happened to my parents after I was stolen from them, only the vague memories of a struggle and the scent of blood that creeps into my subconscious through the nightmares that haunt me. I have no proof, but in my heart I know they must have died that night.




I went looking for the village, years later - finding it in ruins, ravaged by years of war and death. Decades of pestilence, bloodshed and famine had decimated it... the empty, crumbling remains of what had once been full of life now stood, stark and lonely, hidden from view in the dark, dank crypt of a cave it resided in.




That had been my home once. Those people... the bones lying broken and jumbled amid the debris, had been my family, perhaps not in body but in spirit. This cracked, dead village, was my life.




The records don't indicate what exactly happened there, or why. All I know now, is that when that peaceful village was ravaged, I was taken... God only knows how many more were taken along with me, and how many were killed. I ended up so many miles away from my home, so far away that my dim memories vanished, swallowed up by the horizon along with that village.




I was a child... so young that the world of slavery was the only one I ever knew. Before I had even learned how to talk properly I was trained to take orders... day in, day out, I was taught "kneel", "bow", "crawl", "fetch me this", "silence"...




But of course, my species is normally weak physically, so therefore we are chosen according to appearance and purely aesthetic qualities like a show-dog. The experience certainly cheapens one's self-worth, especially those that aren't chosen and are put to physical labor until they die of exhaustion. I was lucky enough to escape a life of physical toil, although the path my life took was by no means easier, and during this chapter of my life I found myself wishing I hadn't been bought for the thought of cutting my existence shorter. Had I know that was waiting for me later, I'd have gladly ended my own life by any means necessary before it ever got that far.




I felt certain my life had reached it's lowest point while I was still so young. After all, at the time I couldn't imagine it getting much worse. I was kidnapped, sold, and tortured... all within the first fifteen years of my life. Little did I know, however, it was so very far from over.