|
You are only seeing a fraction of my work. If you want to see it all join my Patreon page at https://www.patreon.com/itsmetoo If you are already a supporter, go to the Table Of Contents on my Patreon and click the proper link to get the new password. |
Captioned Images Series: Ain't No Future In Fear
Created: 09/04/2025
The hum of the machine vibrated through Charlique’s bones like a second heartbeat. She’d always been a woman of substance—thick arms that hugged neighborhood kids back to health, hips that swayed with the rhythm of her ancestors’ church songs, a belly soft as risen dough that had cradled three generations of family secrets. But here, strapped into this cold, silver throne, her body felt like a betrayal. The single strap across her chest wasn’t what held her; it was the invisible fingers of the machine digging into her mind, whispering stay still.
They’d told her the swap would “fix things.” Her diabetes, her knees, the way her daughter sighed when Charlique’s breathing got heavy climbing stairs. But all she could think about was the boy. Boy, because men didn’t look like that—23, pale as communion wafers, all angles and sharp edges where her body had always been curves. She didn’t even know his name. Just that he was “donor material” and she was “recipient,” like they were trading parts on a car.
The glass dome above her reflected her face, framed by the machine’s blinking blue lights. Her hair—still in the same braids she’d worn since Tuesday—pressed against the headrest. She wondered if her scalp would itch in his body. If her laugh, deep and rolling like thunder, would come out reedy and thin. If her grandbaby would recognize her.
A screen flickered to life, projecting a hologram of the man. Skinny wrists. No hips. A face softer than a store-bought angel cake. Charlique’s throat tightened. Lord, what if I forget my own name? The strap tightened—not on her chest, but in her skull, a pressure that made her vision blur. She tried to scream, but the machine had already started. Her last thought, before the world dissolved into pixels, was of her mother’s voice: “Ain’t no future in fear, girl. But Lord, sometimes it’s all we got.”
Made with Reve Generator