My hands on the wood, worn smooth as leather with age and use, (I feel as though placed in stocks). My buttocks shove themselves backward - I have no...method of control, no illusion of resistance. My ankles are now digging their sides into the hard wood underneath the s**ttering of hay. They are planted, firmly, some three feet apart. My ears hear my lips shuddering together, the mouth inside trying to make words. My back arches. I am now straight and stock still, my head an even plane from. .. to not ace the next test meant repeating the year, falling behind her friends. The very friends who were trying to distract her with...What the hell. Sarah turned.She saw her. Red. Red fur. Nobody had red fur. At least, no one that she had ever seen, in her life or on the screen. Was it dyed? Couldn't be! From her bearing, and the simple blue dress, the woman had to be a teacher, or researcher. Not a student, certainly not someone young like her that might play with colors on a whim."Who is. More

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