Harlot (Part 1 of a 3 part story)

Tears filled the woman’s eyes. She was different, changed, but she did not know why. Something felt different. She could not tell if it was her, or the atmosphere of where she was. Everything just felt weird, empty. She was in the same place as before she woke up, it felt oddly familiar, but different.

She got up to walk around, but even that was awkward. Everything felt heavy, like time had slowed down and gravity was thrust down upon her. She stumbled often, searching, always searching. She walked down the lake shore, eyes roving the tree line for her lost—something. Everything felt so foreign! She trudged on through the heavy sand while the tears finally found form and rolled down her cheeks. A sob tried to break through her mouth, but she kept it locked inside. She knew if she let one through, then another would escape, and then she would fall into a helpless, useless, worthless state of being.

To her left, in the tree line, she heard a branch snap. A cold shiver ran through her body as a slight breeze blew in from her right. She rubbed her arms to warm herself. Her skin felt icy and damp. She looked down at herself to see why she was so cold. The water from the lake lapped at her feet silently, her arms and legs had cold bumps all over them, and her stomach was—uncovered. Her whole body was uncovered! "That is why I am cold," she thought, "I’m—I’m naked."

Panic replaced the cold she felt. She was naked, and someone could see her. Her mind began to race and her heart began to pound in her chest. She ran towards the nearest covering and hid behind it. A few minutes later, a man walked near her hiding spot. He, too, was uncovered, but He saw no shame in it. He did not dive behind a bush. Perhaps He did not realize it yet. He called for someone, but it was not her. She had no memory of another woman, but was certain this man was calling for someone else. She was naked, dirty, shamed. Who would ever want someone like that? He continued calling a name, but it was not hers. “Harlot” never left His lips. She only knew herself as “Harlot,” that was her name, not this word the man called.

The man walked closer to Harlot’s spot, and she cringed and scooted farther and farther back into the brush. He kept calling that hideous name though, and jealousy flooded her heart at the sound of that name. Harlot wanted this man. She wanted to be the object of His desire, but He called for another. She would show Him, though. Once she covered herself, she would devote herself to winning His affection!

The man left her, finally. Harlot looked out from her spot and saw that He was, indeed, gone. She immediately started working on fashioning some sort of covering for herself. She gathered a large amount of long-veined leaves and smaller, but adequate sized leaves. She broke off a small twig and started punching holes in the smaller leaves near the top. After doing that, she took the long-veined leaves and began to tear them and rip them into thin enough strips so that it will be able to pass through the holes in the small leaves making long rows of leaves attached together making a rough attempt at coverings. She ran the rows of leaves around her torso, each side fully reaching around and overlapping. She made several more rows; enough to cover from her armpits to above her stomach and from her waist to her mid-thigh. She then tied the rows covering her chest together forming one piece and the rows covering her waist together forming a second. Harlot’s tension and shame fell when she finally settled into her coverings. Now, she could face Him, and deserve Him. Her heart began to get lighter, she felt a little less dirty. She stepped out into the sunlight and basked in the warm rays.

A voice broke the silence behind her. "Harlot." Finally, He called her. Harlot smiled as she turned to face Him, but, it was not Him. Now that she thought about it, the voice that called was completely different as well. His voice was smooth and sweet. This other voice was rough and harsh. This second man was decent looking, and, to Harlot's great pleasure, clothed as she was. "How is it you know my name, sir?" Harlot searched the man's eyes for any type of recognition.

"Come now, Harlot. Do you not know me? Have you not already lay with me?" Harlot's mind spun. Is this man...could this man really be the one she was to be with? She, tentatively and suspiciously continued the conversation. By the end, however, she was certain that this man, he called himself Cad, was her friend and, perhaps more than that.