Womb Soul Mate

A cold gust fingered into the crowd. The solemn people huddled closer together. Their scratchy wool coats were touching each other. Another person shuffled into the forty person elevator. He stepped in firmly. Cautious to the touch, the front line shuffled a few inches back. The second line shuffled a couple inches back. The ripple effect made everyone shuffle a little bit.

The guard with the trim uniform, leather band diagonally across his chest, and round hat whistled. He pushed the mesh fence door closed and swung the big lever across to lock the door. His eyes looked steely cold at the control room window. He had a thick mustache, which was his pride of individual expression in this glum world. He whistled again.

A safety horn tooted. The big wheel above the elevator jumped an inch, when the brake was released. The eerie sound of the two inch thick steel cable singing under the pressure began. Lithia always felt a chill in her bones listening to that sound. It felt ghostly. It felt like the cable was strained with otherworldly pain. The slowness of it made her fear that the strings bundled into the cable may individually get overstretched and break. The sound would mute itself once they got deeper into the ground.

"Lithia," Morticia tucked on Lithia's coat and whispered, "Remember to steal coal again tonight."

The men and women in the mine elevator were dressed in gray wool pants and coats. They had cotton masks over their faces, so that only their eyes peeked out impersonally. The formerly white cotton masks were dark gray. Over their heart, they displayed the red and yellow logo of the mining company: Three lions caught in mid-jump. There was a general silence. They watched the exposed rock walls rise as they went deeper. The platform would hit a bump every once in a while and jerk. They caught the jerk with a swift bent in the knee and stoic faces like cattle that didn't participate in their own lives' anymore.

"Talon was ordered to mine under the East shaft in Falcon Mountain again. He lied for us. He said that there was no coal. It's full of coal. I know. We have to save enough money for a pick and a shovel. And we'll start our own mining company. We are the ones that will get out of here," Morticia carefully whispered into Lithia's ear so that none of the body-to-body-close bystanders could hear her.

An uproar of angry male screams erupted on the other side of the elevator. The crowd pushed with panic. Lithia and Morticia were pressed hard against the bodies lining the wall. It was hard to fill the lungs, because even pushing back those one or two inches against the big male bodies was hard. Lithia's face was pushed into a scruffy, dirty wool coat. The wool scratched her cheeks. Her face was quickly dashed with wool soot. Only her blond hair in a ponytail was still vaguely clean.

A single male found himself in a circle of avoidance. A big splotch of wet was on the ground in front of him. His arms were waving around helplessly. There was no place to go for him. He had spontaneously ejaculated. The other men were terrified to get infected with Muttonia. Muttonia was a disease very much like a cold that easily passed from person to person by the dispersal of the virus in bodily fluids. It also affected the diseased for about a week or two only. However, the spread was rapid in the crowded places. And rather than affecting the sufferer with sneezes and snot, it caused spontaneous ejaculations, which were of course rather inconvenient in the crowded mining spaces. Women could not contract the disease.

In tense silence, the elevator passed the one hundred yard marker, that plaque of metal with the white numbers. The chill was gone from the air. One could feel the warmth of the deep earth seeping through the raft of wood planks on the ground. Slow whispers began among the people as the guard and oversight faded in the distance above ground. Another ejaculation happened. Another herd stampede that pushed everyone the other direction. The men were in panic and grumbled angrily about the packed working conditions. The women were pressed by the big male bodies. A young lad wiped his pants in panic. He had been hit by stray ejaculate.

The two hundred yard plaque passed. "Do you remember being kids riding the swing under the apple tree? And the sun shone on our faces. It felt so good," dreamed Morticia.

"I forget. It's like a memory that is drifting away. When I go to sleep, I don't remember how the mine shafts are. In the morning, when I come back down here, all the memories of the heat, sweat, and coal dust come back. When I look in your face, I can see in the glow that you are back in the garden. I can't go there anymore. I remember the day like a faded fact. I can't feel it anymore," said Lithia.

Five hundred and fifty yards under the ground, the elevator raft hit the ground. It was so deep that one could feel the breathing of the earth as if she were alive. The surface was a distant place, unreachable. A tension tightened around the solar plexus, like a band, of being trapped down here. A mental voice silently whispered to each one: "Don't panic. Panic doesn't get you out of here. Only calm, patience for the escape vehicle gets you out of this trap."

The boots knocked over the elevator planks. Sweat drops here or there formed on foreheads. The sweat pearls were black from the coal dust that had already settled on their faces. The hot earthen air was standing. They shuffled past the lockers filled with shovels and picks. They grabbed one each.

The guards never came down here into the danger and dirt. Every miner knew their assignments. The main tunnel branched out into spurs. Miner pairs disappeared into them. The slow shuffling crowd stretched out into fast legged ones and bumbling fat ones in the back. Lithia's eyes followed the wagon tracks. There was something calming and predictable about anticipating the next plank under the iron track or the next gap in between two iron beams. It provided a sense of moving forward.

They turned left. It was Lithia's and Morticia's spur: Gazelle canyon. They were by themselves. Only the electric hand light was flickering in the rough mining shaft. To save money, there were no wood beams for support. The claw marks of the pick were evident in the walls.

"It wasn't always like this. Everyone was so happy about the Confederate Party rising to power fifteen years ago. They promised to lower taxes. They promised to keep foreign workers out. And now, we are here in the mining camp imprisoned. 90% of the population got enslaved to do menial and hard labor, because we blocked foreign workers and imports. My mom wanted me to become a ballerina. Every day, I practiced for hours. And now all the graze and flexibility is gone by shuffling coal for years for 14 hours a day," complained Morticia.

"I wanted to be a computer scientist. I loved reading books and thinking. Now, the mining company has banned books for miners. It would distract us too much, make us unsatisfied. I always used to be so clumsy that I'd bruise myself down here. They didn't care. They kept stuffing me down here every day. Now, I'm an expert in reading coal markings to estimate the shift and approach angle. Ha! I never cared about knowing those things," Lithia said joining the complaining.

Morticia peeled out of her coat and pants. Only wearing a still white wife beater shirt and white cotton panties, she stood in her big, black miner boots. Here in the remoteness of the dig site, they had privacy. And the underground heat was a heavy plague. Sweat pearls were already running down the groove of her spine. So, they always stripped down.

Morticia had the lean body of a twenty-five year old, who did constant labor and didn't have a minute to set on fat. Her belly was trim with the navel button flush to her skin. Her breasts were full. The panties cut diagonally across her round, muscular ass. Her calves were strong and round from lifting coal bags over head. Her hair was red and fiery in big curls -- making her look almost like a lion.

Lithia was smaller and skinnier. She had small boobs and a determined face. She was a bit nerdy. Her movements were a little quirky. Sweat was already glistening all over her body in underwear. Dark coal lines from bumping into the wall and the dirty shovel grip touching her were already marked on her. Her eyes had a blue sparkle that suggested an animated and vivid imagination on the inside.

Morticia got on her bare knees. She pushed the pick into the knee high tunnel. Then she lay flat and crawled into the tunnel. They were digging a lead into the mountain to lay a charge. The charge would shatter the mountain. And then they could shuffle out the hard rock and separate the coal. With their pick alone, they would merely dent the rock.

Morticia lead with a pick. Lithia followed with the shovel. Lithia would push all the debris out of the lead. Tock, tock, Morticia swung the pick hard from her lying position. Her deltoids flash bulged with each swing. She was strong. Lithia was more of a runner as she grabbed the head sized loosened rock and moved it out of the lead crawling backwards.

Waiting for Morticia to work her pick in a circle around the next rock, Lithia asked, "Have you ever considered the other options of getting out of here? There is a paper above ground at the guard station."

"You mean sell my organs and live on life support for the rest of my life? Or do you mean to change career to shark wrestler? They give you a knife and a Speedo. That's it. Then they send you out harvesting shark fin. Life here is hard. Though, I prefer the longevity of this job," replied Morticia every five seconds her voice shaking from the impact of the pick.

"What about becoming a handkerchief? Rich people and ministers get Muttonia. And they like having a woman to sneeze into. So, if they are in high society meetings, they can be presentable. It can't be that bad. You get to dress in fine clothes to blend in with high society. They teach you how to speak, so that you seem respectable. It makes the sneezing more respectable," asked Lithia.

"Fat chance of that! Your female parts have to be an exact match for one of 537 people who are royal enough to afford a handkerchief girl. If a guy comes inside of you, the vagina doesn't hold onto anything. As soon as he pulls out his dick, the whole thing splatters on the ground. His dick has to perfectly reach your womb, so that the dick tip penetrates your womb. And then the ejaculate is retained inside of your womb. One in a thousand women is a perfect enough match. That's why they call them womb soul mates," explained Morticia.

"Some people say that such a match is meta-physical. It's like the universe made a pair of you and scattered you across the world. And your whole life's mission is to find each other. They say that being of such a match is like having royal blood. Such a person has a destiny, a unique place in human history," dreamed Lithia.

"You gotta stop listening to the superstitious yarn of the women. I tell you if we can smuggle enough coal out to buy us a shovel and pick, we can start our own mining company. I know way better where to dig than those lofty engineers that run the mining company. They never come down here. I can feel the mountains here. From inhaling all that coal, the mountain is running through my blood."

The rickety-rickety-rag of an unbalanced wheel echoed a thousand times bouncing from one wall to the other. "Quick get out, Talon is coming!" cried Morticia. Both of them scrambled backwards. Their knees were running left and right. Their arms were pushing back as fast as they could. Jumping out of the lead, they grabbed their pants and wool jackets. With smitten faces and messy hair, they leaned cooly against the wall and smiled under their masks in the direction of the main shaft. The smile was visible on their cheeks and in the twinkle of their eye.

Talon, a tall twenty something lad, pushed a metal lorry in front of himself. He walked at a casual pace with a swagger. His wool jacket was open and made him look almost classy. He had a beret hat that he wore sideways for style. He had full eyebrows that were carefully shaped. "Hey ladies, got any rocks for me?" He smiled charmingly.

"I want you to put a rock on my finger," flirted Morticia.

"Would this one do?" asked Talon with a smirk. He held up a fist sized granite rock.

"Listen, I've got a secret. You can't tell anyone. It's life or death. The guys from my boarding house are planning an escape from the mining company. We are building a vertical shaft in the far North quadrant. We think it's outside of the wild land that they patrol. Everyone is putting away a tenth of their charge to use for the escape. That way, it's not too obvious. We simply claim that the rock has become harder and the charges bite less. We need a lot of charges. It's 1,000 vertical yards under that mountain. That's part of the scam. I don't think they'd ever expect us to dare such a bold endeavor without engineering support. That's their blind spot. It's risky. But freedom is worth it! So can I have your rocks and a tenth of your charge?" asked Talon.

"Sure," said Lithia.

The tall lad disappeared into the black of the spur pushing a heavier load and a secret hidden under the rocks. Lithia gazed at the swagger in his gait and the strong butt, "How I'd love to sneak up to him and his buddies to catch them with their coats down in their underwear, all sweaty and manly. I'd give a kingdom to squeeze those butt cheeks double fisted in both hands." Lithia looked into the dark tunnel with a dreamy face.

The girls slipped out of their wool clothes again. Their movements had slowed to slow and steady, a little worn from the heavy work. They crawled back into the lead tunnel. "We'll have to make the lead longer to compensate for the reduced charge. To get it perfect, the charge should be so deep that a thin wall remains standing. It should be thin enough for us to knock it over with the pick." They got lost in their mundane labor in the world, where the clock doesn't move and the ceiling knows neither day nor night.

The sound of another lorry approaching arose. This time it was rickety-rickety-rag-rag. "Lunch," exclaimed Lithia. They scrambled back out. Only this time, they took their time. They didn't bother getting dressed. They only bothered getting out in time with their grimy half-naked bodies.

A jolly, round woman rang the copper bell affixed to the cart. "Nourishing lunch for hard working ladies," cheered Marley, a forty year old mine mother. Her face was gnarled with furrows from age. Her hair was graying and swiveled into buns. "We've got split pea soup and winter squash rice today. For a nickel, you can buy a piece of pie as desert. For a little kiss, I'll tell you a secret."

Lithia kissed Marley on the check with five furrows. The skin was so thick from the rough conditions in the mine for decades. Marley glowed happiness at the little gesture of affection. Then her eyes widened and she waved her arms to take the young women into a huddle under her wings.

"The president has been assassinated. They don't know who it was. But everyone is sure that the rebels are gaining strength. The Confederate Party is scared. They are holding elections out here near the mine camp. They think that they can better protect the party leaders in this remote forest land. They are moving tanks and military equipment into position. The handkerchief recruiters have arrived as well. There is a train carriage detached on the tracks. They hold interviews in there," shared Marley.

"The mine company doesn't like it. Once you are within sight of the train carriage, the federal guards protect you. However, there was one girl that was overheard by a guard about talking about going there. She was flogged in public. They hung her over the elevator shaft as a warning. She is suspended from her wrists. She's been crying all day. It's horrible hearing the poor babe cry."

"Still girls are trying out. I know at least ten girls that went. None of them were a match for a party penis. They risked it all for nothing. Over my lifetime, I've seen these pricks come out here for trials. One lucky soul wins. Everyone else eats dust. They are mind games. I tell you girls not to even think about it. They get your hopes up. They distract you for a while from what life in the mine is like. It's better to ignore those things," concluded Marley darkly. "So, how about a pie? It's only a nickel!"

"Thank you for the news. We are poor girls. We'll take the soup and rice," replied Morticia.

Marley portioned their ration. "You gotta live a little, have some pie," mumbled Marley.

After Marley disappeared with her rattling cart, Morticia told Lithia sternly, "Don't even think about it. I've heard the fables of rags to riches of handkerchief girls. It's not true. It's simply some old guy putting his virus ridden jizz inside of you, so he looks better while talking to a medal covered general. They pay you well. However, he will only see a cum bucket in you, not a Cinderella."

"Oh, only to walk in those guilded rooms. To smell the fumes of wine that has been cultivated by experts and matured for a decade, to see the delightful appetizers, the little cheese boats with an olive on a pick, to walk in a rich ruffle dress with my face all pretty in makeup, that would be enough payment for me. Most of all, I miss the words. The people here forget the delicious words. All day, I hear pick, shovel, and charge. To hear someone talking about boreal canopy and existential angst, to hear each vowel pronounced precisely, that's what I miss more than anything," gushed Lithia.

"You heard what Marley said. If the mining company hears you talk like that, they'll beat the dreams out of you. They only care about how much coal you get out each day. That handkerchief business means that they lose a worker," educated Morticia soberly.

The warm food felt good in the belly. The muscles in the limbs were already weakening from the heavy work. Sitting down was a wonderful respite. They sat in silence, each spinning their own dream. One dreamt about starting her own mine. The other dreamt about gilded rooms and society.

The working shift was fourteen long, grueling hours. The lead was only half way deep. Their muscles were shaking from exhaustion. The horn blowed and echoed for a whole minute. They were allowed to come back. They put on their wool clothes. They arranged their hair. There was no sense in wiping their dirty faces with dirty rags. They dragged their tired heels down the shafts. The shafts combined. The crowd swelled. Like every evening, a long rush hour crowd formed in front of the elevator. The elevator rumbled slowly up and down only taking forty people at a time.

After half hour of patient waiting, it was their turn. They shuffled with mini-steps in the slow moving crowd into the elevator. After yard marker 200, there was a hissing sound in the air. Next something small hit people in the center and knocked against the floor as people scattered. A female voice distorted by echoes of the shaft begged, "Forgive me, I couldn't hold it in any longer." Then the foul smell of piss followed. The people were stoic with anger on their face. A young woman muttered "poor thing." Lithia clutched the two coal pieces in either coat pocket harder, the dangerous contraband.

When the elevator reached the surface, they saw the young woman hanging from the structure that held the big elevator wheel. The clothes had been torn off her. Large whip marks ran across her face. The wrists were tight over her head and hanging from a hook. Tears had carved rivers in her soot-covered face. The guards swung their night sticks to hit the palm of their own hand with a loud smashing sound to remind the miners of the guard's power.