Zarah
By Gwen (aka Southbaydog)
Category: Edge
Word Count: 472*

I am Zarah. My life began when my mother's ended by the railroad tracks near Bergen-Belsen. I thought I would die of grief right there beside her, die of fright or be killed like all the rest. But somehow I survived, a small Jewish girl whisked away to a new life in a new world, with a new family that did their best. Oh, they tried so hard, they really did, to love me and care for me. They told me I was beautiful and special - Zarah.

But it is only with you that I have discovered true beauty. I flung myself over the bridge, away, into your arms, and somehow you made me feel safe - safe and loved in a way that had never been possible before.

Set up to fail from the start, I fell into your trap, and lost this war of words so long ago. You played such games with me, bending my will, confusing my brain - to a purpose yes, a beautiful new freedom from my thoughts, from my memories.

Now, I lie bound in lengths of silken rope like a chrysalis in a cocoon, immobilized and safe in an elaborate web of interlocking silk. It took you an hour or more to weave this intricate net, beginning first with my ankles and legs, binding them gently, checking for my comfort at every stage.

This time you've wrapped a scarf of silk around my face so that I cannot speak. You do not wish to hear what I have to say - you ask only that I should learn to listen, and what other choice to have? If not to fall asleep, cradled in my silken cocoon. You tease me and whisper in my ear how I am yours and you will whip me to prove it. If I could smile, I would from the safety of my web.

You parade before me a thrilling collection of handcrafted whips of finely tooled, embossed leather for my delight. They seduce me and entice me to feel their sting, the sweet ecstasy of the bite that you promise to deliver to my haunted flesh, but then deny, delaying till later what I crave from the bottom of my soul.

And you promise to make me sing from my soul hauntingly, plaintive, and anguished like the song of the wild and endangered "painted" dog of Africa - sing for my soul under the whip - at first through my sheath of silk, which gradually you unravel as I become unraveled in a whirlwind of sensation, and the layers of my false skin are removed until, at last, you whip me bare.

I am Zarah, who was lost and now lies bound, cherished, lost in love and now found.

I am Zarah the beautiful and loved.

I, Zarah, would have it no other way.

(Author's Note: This story is edgy to me for several reasons. It deals with a woman who has suffered early life trauma and has never been able to process it; consequently, she feels unlovable and insecure to the point where she only really feels in bondage with her lover and needs the extreme stimulus of the whip to break out of her emotional fortress and "feel." She has tremendous sadness and need that can only be fulfilled in an extreme context. I could go on, but since this is a story that I am considering developing into a longer piece, I think that will do for now.)

At first this story looked as if it were going to be dark and sad, but it wasn't that at all.  It was full of light and joy.  It was beautifully-written.  The words sang and danced and were extremely pleasing to the mind's eye and ear.  This was a very effective story.

This story had a very gripping beginning with the death of the character's mother.  It sets the scene quite well and leads perfectly into the mindset of the character as she moves towards punishment.

I enjoy the detail placed in this story.  The description of the tying, the whips, and dialogue create a delicious lead-in to the actual spanking.

I especially love this line... "And you promise to make me sing from my soul hauntingly, plaintive, and anguished like the song of the wild and endangered "painted" dog of Africa..."  It's very poetic.

The reasons behind why this story was edgy were unclear.  The contest prefers it when an author's description of the edge is included with the story.  I think that would have enhanced the piece.

Wow!  This story did not put me on edge, but I can see how it fits perfectly into that category.  I felt like I was Zarah, the way you wrote, had me sitting on the edge of my seat.  It was very beautiful; an excellent story.  You write very well; using words that make me imagine things beyond my realm.  I'm stunned.

"Zarah" is beautifully written, and some of the descriptive passages are almost hypnotic.  The main character is memorable, and the first person narration is very effective.  The edgy element of this story - Zarah's background as an orphan of the Holocaust - is introduced in the first few lines.  The story is too brief to allow for much elaboration on her history or motivations, so it feels like the reference to the concentration camp is shorthand for a set of things that are never made totally clear.  The rest of the story is good, but (IMO) it's too slight to carry that kind of weight.