I am driven by that voice in the distance.
The otherworldly call that only I can hear.
I am drawn to the strangers who stole our planet.
I am called towards the unknown.
They come for us because we are an oddity to them, a beautiful possession. They gather us every five years, in exchange for human items. Bolts of silk. Solar lamps that capture sunlight during the day and brighten our camps at night. Human foods that are foreign and exotic to our tongues.
Many choose to flee or hide to escape the choosing. I do not. And I know it is that thing which pulls my heart from Bagheera and towards the city that is now the city of man. Whatever calls to me from beyond the borders of the forest will have me. Because I will let it. And I will be Mowgli no longer.
GATHER ME
It is the day… the tomorrow I have thought of for many yesterdays.
I am standing tall in front of the cavern that houses my father. He refuses to wake this day, knowing his only child may leave him. And there is little hope of my return if I am chosen. He should be here, among the Mowgli as their Akela—their chief—accepting the crates of items the humans leave behind in exchange for the precious life they take. Maybe they think leaving the objects in exchange for our people is fair, it absolves them of guilt somehow.
It is a very human thinking.
I love you my mother. Raksha.
I love you my father. Daruka.
I love you Baloo. Little brother. Grey Wolf.
I am dressed simply, the draping of cloth across my body dyed by the emerald moss that covers the woodland floor. My hair is more intricate, trailing the length of my back in a lovingly plaited braid of blue strands that have been dipped, also, into the moss dye so that my hair is like sky meeting grass. The expanse of my high forehead is decorated by my mother’s yellow amulet. She says it will bring me luck, as it did on her gathering. She was not chosen and to her that is lucky. I wish to be chosen, but I do not remove the golden chain that dangles the sunstone. I will do this last thing for her, for my mother. It is a small gesture and I know it will afford her some peace when I am gone. At least, I hope it will.
Because my entire life has been building towards this moment. I balance on the precipice of change. On the edge of forever, I dangle my body forwards and do not think about the fall.
I will be chosen. I will be chosen.
It is the mantra that sings within my head, my heart, and my legs—my legs that wish to run towards the hunters.
I must be chosen. There is no other girl this year with skin like mine—with all the colors of a rainbow blinking beneath the surface of her body. I am also the only blue-haired female of gathering age and the hunters value rareness. It means a higher price will be paid. Perhaps they will leave an extra crate of goods, things that will bring my village fortune. My breasts are small, but in time, they will be full like my mother’s are. My face is pleasing, the downward slant of my bright blue eyes giving way to high cheeks and full lips. The three nostrils of my nose are petite, the bridge extending in a long, thin line upwards where it meets the azure hair line. My features, if not my coloring, could almost pass for human.
Yet there is a stone of doubt roiling in my stomach. If I am passed over this gathering, there will not be another for me. The girls are only wanted in their prime and five years from now I will be well and truly old by their standards. Twenty-two seasons is already a lifetime on our planet. I often wonder what happens to the Mowglis that are taken, once they are less desirable. Do they stay in the city of men? Do they fall back into the shadows of our planet, and try to survive? Are they still Mowgli? Or are they so changed that they can never sing the songs of our tribes again?
In the near distance, the gathering vehicles push through the high brush, crushing plant life beneath black tires. I lift my body to its full height. I am lean, the muscles in my small arms defined. I will be chosen. It will not be long now. They are coming. And with them… my destiny.
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Entered in the Alien Bride Lottery
A Sci Fi Alien Romance
Margo Bond Collins
There are a million ways to end up in the Alien Bride Lottery. But it takes only one.
Every unmarried female human over the age of 21 gets entered once a year. You can also accept extra entries for legal infractions—instead of paying a parking fine, for example, you can request an extra entry. Lots of women do that. I mean, why not? The chances are astronomical that your name will get chosen to be one of the hundred or so women who get shipped off to space every year.
And even if your name is drawn, the odds are slim that you’ll match up with an alien who’s looking for a mate.
Most of the lottery-drawn women come back to Earth every year and resume their lives as if nothing changed.
But some don’t.
And no matter what, getting drawn in the Lottery means you have to compete in the Bride Games.
Guess that's where I'm heading now.
I only hope I can avoid catching the eye of one of the giant, rainbow-hued brutes whose mission is to protect Earth—and who can claim me as a mate.
All because I was Entered in the Alien Bride Lottery…
Fans of Grace Goodwin, Laurann Dohner,
