The Cage (Prologue, chp 1)

My name is Kieva, but I am known as the black widow by most. I attained this name because that is the title of the clothing line I design. Every morning I would walk out to my roof and stare at a large threatening structure in the distance. It was miles away and I could just barely see its outline. Most people knew it as the cage but the government called it the Sub Human Socialization Center. It was a modern day concentration camp for those deemed inhuman. The occupants really weren’t human for the most part the few that were had committed serious criminal acts. Everything else was an aberration. Mutated humans. There were creatures that closely resemble the thought legendary vampires, witches, and other strange things. They all looked human but they were not and hated humans at least that is what we were told and with time it became true.

Now the cage isn’t just wire and fencing, that would never hold its occupants. From the inside out, there are various barriers. The first is a combination of spells and charms that rise in a bubble over the top to prevent the vampires, spirits and humans from crossing; it can also hold back weak witches and gypsies. The next barrier is a twenty-foot electrical fence then there are the great metal walls that at the right times of day block the sun entirely. This set up is rather brilliant because the occupants all hate each other it is a natural instinctive hatred that keeps them from working together. Any time they put aside their differences and work together, they could break free and exterminate those that imprisoned them. This inability to compromise and trust is what makes them most like humans and most dams them as sub human.

Though they are caged, they are not treated as animals entirely they are simply kept away from the rest of us. They are given markets for food and clothing stores they have most modern technologies as well. Though we do not send to them weapons, they have become creative and make their own. Besides providing them with their necessities, we do not intervene.

That was the policy. Nevertheless, things change, accidents happen. Let’s just say a certain someone got a taste of the other side.

“Kieva wake up. Its 7 o’clock.” a soft warm voice commanded. She looked up and smiled at her boyfriend of four years. She stretched and grabbed a robe, coffee, and her sketching supplies. The chilled morning air slapped her in the face as she opened the door to her roof top. Kieva settled her self on a cushioned bench and stared at the structure in the distance and noted the dark clouds peaking from behind it. She began to sketch simple lines appearing on the paper before her. Design after design appeared but as she stared at each finished product she frowned and continued on. She did this ritual for two hours and then went back down to her lavish apartment and slammed the door to the bedroom. A small smile crossed her lips as she saw pants, a blouse and an umbrella laid out before her with a bit of paper on top. She reached for it and it read “Heard its supposed to rain thought you could use this.” Kieva frowned and wondered to herself the same thing she always wonders when a boyfriend does something sweet. “Why don’t I love him?” The reason she most often settled on is that she is simply incapable of love. She sighed and dressed quickly as she realized she was behind schedule.

Staring down at the ground Kieva kicked a small rock. “This is ridiculous.” she shrieked, “I haven’t had a good idea for months.” She then looked around and realized she was talking to herself again. With a small sigh she stood up and moved closer to the cage. She slid her tan fingers over the cage’s cold outer wall, searching for that energy that special force that slides into her veins and forces her hand into brilliant desidns. While she trudged a slight drizzle came down and her umbrella rested close in her bag. Her fingers continued to follow the walls imperfections she had become so familiar with. The calcification found its way to her touch and she knew the metal would dip in soon. The drizzle started to pour but Kieva moved on. She was not even aware of the waterfall surrounding she was only aware of the wall whispering its secrets into her ears. Hours passed as she walked the massive structure’s perimeter, that moment of true inspiration always a groove away. Her mind was humming softly and constantly until she reached a part that was different. Kieva opened her eyes and stared at the door that swayed in front of her. She blinked, it was still there. She reached forward and could feel that artists tingle, that moment before brilliance takes hold. Kieva steps forward and the door swings shut behind her and dissipates into the cage. She was in the third ring and quickly saw an entrance to the second a where the rust ate away the fence. “How can this be here? Someone should be maintaining this.” she stared. The rain suddenly began to pour lightening lit up the sky and the electric fence began to sway. She quickly ducked under and ran the several yards to where she assumed the first barrier began. Strange plants grew there and weird symbols were scorched into the ground. Kieva turned around to look at the fence and for the first time saw the bodies there were at least fifty all with fifteen feet of the fence many were almost fully decomposed. With one tear she turned and walked through the enchantments with one hand reaching forward. The high of revelation filling her void. She walked to a tree that shielded some rain, hid behind it, and sketched this would be her best work yet she smiled, “Well, if I survive.”

Kieva set down her pencil as she noticed the sun had completely disappeared and the moon had replaced it. She was surprised that she wasn’t afraid. She heard stories about creatures being mauled by other creatures but some how she didn’t care. Kieva carefully tucked her leather bound sketch book into her bag next to the perfectly dry umbrella and walked to where she figured she would find the gypsies, humans, and witches she did not wish an encounter with a vampire or something worse. The smells of homemade foods wafted into her nose as she checked for currency. “I wonder if they take money.”