Sally Slater Novels & Stories

The Messager humbled. In the castle, Sally and Shirley were the only ones accorded such a dress code. They had secured a high priority in visiting the traditional healer even during their monthly menstruation period. Born with a silver spoon in their mouth shone brightly in anybody’s pupils who appealed several glimpses at them, engaged in their luxurious life activities or heaving their steps within the castle. They were not just an apple of Mark Slater’s eyes but a survival vein in his heart. Mark Slater adored his daughters.

She gives me a big push and sends me crashing back onto the narrow cot that also passes for my sofa. She leans down, her broad face inches from mine. Her breath smells so foul that I wince and hold my breath to keep from throwing up the stale bread and soup I ate hours ago. "What is it like, huh?" Sally asks, small eyes narrowed. "What is it like to take what belongs to another woman?" She steps back and spreads her thick arms. She turns begins to address the cell like a politician giving a speech: "This is it, girls!” she declares. “This is why those men up there never take us seriously! It’s women like this whore right here. Seduction. That’s her only tool. Her power sits right between her