The Penny Walk
“Do you understand that by participating in The Penny Walk you are legally consenting to a full body search before and after entering the fairgrounds?”
I feel light-headed. I should have eaten more before I left, but my nerves made it impossible. I only vaguely recognize the question as one which I should respond to in the affirmative.
“Yes,” I breathe out. My voice seems to trail off even on the one syllable word. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t know what made me agree to join this year. It’s not mandatory if you’ve lived in Church your whole life. This is Piper’s fault. It’s not. It’s mine. Fuck. The guard is still asking matter-of-fact questions, when I find my voice. “I’m a contestant. I already filled out a consent form.” He looks pissed. I should have said something sooner.
His voice is monotone now, and I assume he is trying to hold back his temper. “You are at the wrong gate. Contestants enter at the East entrance. That was in the packet that you would have received when you turned in your paperwork. You will have a more extensive search and a weigh in at Gate C. There’s a field on that side of the grounds. You’ll receive a blessing in case anything goes wrong during the ceremony.”
“You mean sacrifice,” I blurt, accidentally. Whatever control he had a moment ago vanishes. His lip curls, his eyes roll, and he shoves me out of line, already beginning to speak to the person behind me.
After waiting in the wrong line, I am running late. I should pick up my pace, but my mind is wandering.
Every year at the end of the dry season, Church hosts The Penny Walk. The actual festival is a requirement for every citizen. The first half of the day is filled with carnival rides and fair-food. The games and rides are simple, but they help bring the community together. The town really puts everything they can into the day. We don’t have much to look forward to in Church. Most of us can’t even afford the extra butter and flour for cake on our birthdays. There is a donation center for anyone who has leftover rations to help fund the ceremony that comes just before sundown, and you are also allowed to buy participation tickets that are then converted into pennies. It’s mostly men who buy tickets, although I have seen a few women join in before. Any girl that has had her seventeenth birthday is allowed to enter as a contestant. The winner gets to give the money to their family, meaning an end to the perpetual squalor that the majority of us live in. The ritual can be dangerous if you don’t know your own limits, so you are only required to enter if your family is new to the town for this crop season. It’s a way to pay for your rations since you weren’t present to help throughout the year. Most of the younger girls in town enter, anyway. The idea of saving your family from having to ration away the rest of their lives is enticing.
This season, I turned nineteen. Despite that fact, I have never entered The Penny Walk before. My twin, Piper, has entered both years that we have been allowed. She hasn’t won, but she hasn’t lost either. That is more than a good amount of past participants can say. I hate even going to the festival. A lot of the residents love it. It’s a chance to socialize and to pay our debts to each other. It’s a clean slate with a party. Maybe if I was a man, I would feel differently, but I can’t make myself see it as anything more than archaic. Piper has always seen it as an opportunity that our elected officials are providing us. An opportunity to better ourselves and our land. I’ve never been able to figure her out. I know twins are supposed to be some sort of soulmates, but I don’t have that gift of connection with her. She begged me to enter this year. And last year. And the year before.
“Mari, just think about it. We would not only have double the chance of winning, but twins. I mean, everyone loves twins. Way more people would donate and enter if they knew that there were going to be twins to watch this year. It would basically be impossible for one of us to not win,” Piper pleads. Her voice is more breathy than mine and I have a scar on my right thigh from climbing a fence, but aside from that we are identical. Her curls are falling across her eyes, when they would normally be artfully tossed back in a type of gravity-defying wave. The dishevelment tricks me into an intimacy that makes me want to agree. I want to be a team with her. My insides are at war. The practical part of me can see that this is not anything resembling a fool proof plan, but the twin part of me has aimed a gun right at the heart of practicality.
I look down into my lap, avoiding eye contact, “I get what you mean about people loving the idea of twins, but that doesn’t mean that we would win. Piper, you have entered twice, and you still haven’t won. You know it takes more than just getting the most support in order to win. You have to have the fortitude to make it until the end. Anyway, I am not in touch with myself the way that you are. I don’t know that I would know when to stop. ” Not to mention that Piper is fearless, and I am nothing short of a coward. “And don’t you hate the idea of women being some kind of repayment of debts? Isn’t that kind of fucked up? We aren’t currency, Piper. I don’t want to be some kind of offering.”
Her voice drops, “Listen, you can’t talk like that. Obviously, none of us want to think of it that way. Think of it like this, they respect us so much that we are their most valuable resource. That has to mean something. We need the money. You have to know that we need the money. Besides, we would look so good up there together. So tempting. Think about it.” She cups her hand around the back of my neck like she is going in for a hug and pulls me closer. Her already airy voice is almost too quiet to catch, but I just make out the whisper, “We’re being watched, Mari.”
Practicality drops their weapons, as trust slices their practical throat.
I’ve been uneasy since the warning. I figured that if I just entered the contest after refusing that it would seem out of character, but Piper didn’t bring it up again. I don’t know how Piper would have figured out that we were being watched. Or that we were being watched any more than every other citizen of Church is watched. But if she is right, our family will need the money before the next growing season. Our father is older. He isn’t exactly elderly, but he has spent his whole life working the fields in Church. He’s weathered. He was sick for a long portion of the last year. Mostly respiratory issues, but he didn’t put in as much time as would usually be expected. If we are being watched, it is because of his failing health. It’s not unlikely. In Church, you work for your rations until you cannot work anymore. When it seems like you are no longer doing your part, you have two options. Someone in your family can pay for your daily rations using part of their own, or you offer yourself up as a sacrifice to the growing season. Most of us barely get enough to sustain our metabolisms in order to make it through the work day. It is rare that someone does not choose to be a sacrifice. My father would never take any of our rations. The sacrifice is quick and non-violent and taking from one of us would make him feel like a burden. He would never want to live like that. He has never even pushed either of us to join The Penny Walk like some other families do. Mama has never joined either. Her and a few other ladies do the town’s laundry. Piper and I are teachers. We are all our own responsibility in his mind. Nevertheless. If we had the money from winning, he wouldn’t need to worry about working or taking anyone else’s earnings.
Two weeks after Piper and I talked about entering, the registration came in the mail:
CHURCH’S 130TH ANNUAL PENNY WALK!
Fun for the whole family!
Rides and games open from sunrise to sundown!
Free food!
Live music!
Don’t forget The Penny Walk Ceremony is open to all female residents 17+, with split the pot prizes and free citizen rations for life to the winner’s family! Ceremony will begin at sundown, and fireworks will take place after the show!
Registration to join the contest is enclosed as well as the option to purchase advance tickets to participate in the show.
Festival begins at the sunrise before the full moon.
*Attendance is mandatory for all residents.
I pulled out the registration sheets, left one on Piper’s desk, and took the other to my bed to look over. I slipped the form inside of the book I had been reading so that she wouldn’t see it if she came in. We share a room, and I didn’t want her to know that I was considering entering because I didn’t need her to persuade me one way or the other. I wanted to be able to make this decision on my own.
The form doesn’t really give much more information than the average citizen already has of the contest. To be fair it is a pretty straight forward thing. It is basically just an outline of the ceremony along with information on what happens to the prize money if you are the winner. It states that if you win but do not make it through to the end of the show then your prize money reverts to your next of kin. If you live then you have the option to accept half the pot and split the rest with the town or to offer the entire winnings to your family and take none for yourself. Everyone knows that the next of kin almost always gets the winnings. I mean. Most of us wouldn’t want that money even if you paid…well. It feels wrong to keep the money after you win. Either way you get your lifetime food rations, so you’re safe until you’re too old to work, and have to hope that one of your living relatives still has the means to take care of you. Otherwise, you become a growing season sacrifice. The rest of the page is devoted to legal nomenclature stating that you or your family will not sue, due to the fact that you are consenting to possible bodily harm and even death. There’s a disclaimer about how if you live, but are harmed in a way that requires medical attention the town will elect a medical professional to intervene and improve your chances of recovery. Obviously they wouldn’t want to lose out on any valuable little worker bees. None of the men ever want to take any of the sewing or cooking jobs, so it wouldn’t be ideal if they lost all of their women to the contest. The last sheet explains that you are aware that you will likely be physically touched, and that you will not inflict harm on any of the participants. It is three sheets worth of language that likens me to a piece of property for the men of the town to digest as they see fit.
That night, I filled out the forms after Piper went to sleep. I thought about telling her. I didn’t want her to worry anymore, but it felt like a concession. It felt like I was losing my humanity. I had spent my entire life claiming that I had too much dignity to lie prostrate at the town’s feet, and now I was readily submitting. I slept deeper than I had in years. The weight of my decision crowded my dreams and held me under like stones in the pocket. In the morning, I woke before the rest of the family and walked the forms to the Town Hall. I came home and washed the dust from town from my shoes. Once they were clean, I made breakfast for everybody in the house. By the time I was done mama already had two people drop off their laundry for the day. We had weak coffee and an egg each, while we chatted about who might join this year, who would be a crowd favorite, and who would make it until the end. I interjected rarely, ate quickly, and then Piper and I left for our jobs at the schoolhouse while my father walked the opposite way toward the fields.
I turn all of this over as I make my way through the dusty, tall grass to the East entrance. I remind myself that this was my own choice. No one made it for me.
The attendant at Gate C is a woman. I think I have seen her around before, but it’s hard to be sure. Most of the time, the people of Church look like they have been wearing the same clothes for a week and before they donned them they took them for a proper roll in the dirt. From the frequency my mother gets laundry from any single house at once, most of the folks in Church probably do wear their clothes for about a week at a time. For the festival, though, everyone is in their best attire. There are few excuses to wear anything other than work clothes, so we take advantage of the opportunity. The woman is in black pants and a clean grey sweater, and she has her face tilted up to soak in the end of season sun. The blush at her cheeks and the bridge of her nose puts me at ease. I clear my throat, “Miss? I think I might be late, but I’m a contestant this year. Last name is Grace.”
To my dismay, she frowns. “Grace already entered.”
“Oh! That was my sister, Piper. My name is Mira. Sorry, we should have just come in together, but I got held up this morning.” I hope that she’ll take that as an explanation and not ask more. I don’t think I have it in me to go into my morning anxiety and how I haven’t even told Piper that I entered.
She looks through a list of names, finds mine, and nods. “Ok, love. You are going to go through here. We do require a cavity search. After you get to wash up. Then they’ll get you a dress and lead you out to the field for the blessing. By the time you make it through all of that, it’s usually dinner time. Afterwards is the ceremony. Your packet should have explained all of that, but I do like to go over it one last time. In case you have anything on you that you maybe don’t want to bring into the ceremony. It’s better to leave it with me than it is to let them find it on you during the search.” She’s fidgety as she finishes up the speech. She is looking into my eyes like she is trying to say more than she can with words.
I’m not sure what she is trying to convey, but I appreciate the way I can feel the empathy radiating from her. “I’m good. Nothing on me. Thank you, though,” I reply with as much calm as I can muster. She nods again and opens the gate. As I walk through she pats my arm and wishes me luck.
The cavity search isn’t as bad as I am expecting. Another woman performs it, and she is quick and gentle before she leads me to the shower room. It is already wet with sticky heat since I am the last girl to enter. The drain is clogged with hair, and murky water swells around my feet as I wash. As promised, when I am cleaned up there is a bleached, cotton dress laying with my towel. After I dress, I head into the gathering tent. I spot Piper immediately and shyly make my way over to her. She is talking to a group of girls in the same white uniform as me. When she spots me her eyes go wide. “Mira! What the fuck? I can’t believe. When? What are you doing here? Never mind. Get over here. We are about to make flower crowns.” My voice is caught up and clotted somewhere inside my windpipe, so I silently take a seat next to her. She hugs me tight and grabs my hand. Her voice in honeyed-sweet, and slightly higher than usual when she speaks again. “Oh, I just knew that you would come. I am so excited to do this together.”
Once we are all crowned in lavender and orange blossoms, we head out like cattle to slaughter. The grass of the field is only about shin high, since the harvest wasn’t long ago. It tickles when the wind dances across us. I don’t pay much attention to the blessing. I have heard it before. It sounds like all of the ancient, “out of date” blessings I have ever heard from all of the religions that we denounced. Please protect these women as they give themselves to our town. Please return their bodies to the land as payment for all it gives us if they perish. That sort of nonsense. Some of the girls start crying during the recitation, but I just hold Piper’s hand and wait for supper. Unfortunately, it ends up being nondescript meat, potatoes, and bread. It is more than I have had in a year, but I would have preferred the free fair food. Fried dough covered in cinnamon and spun sugar on cones may not be exceptionally filling, but it would have been more of a comfort. I am just finishing using my bread to sop up the last of the juices from the meat, when an attendant comes in to shepherd us on to the stage.
Piper turns to me, eyes gleaming, and smirks, “It’s time.”
The attendant takes our dresses as we head out to the clearing. The sun is down, now and the wind tempts my skin to rise. My nipples harden. My lips feel dry. I am trying not to shiver. Piper continues holding my hand. I always thought that she must be braver than I am to walk out in front of the town with nothing on, and hand herself over this way, but I feel her trembling. Knowing that she is just as scared as I am sends a chill up my spine, and I have to close my eyes and let her lead me in order to stop myself from shaking. My eyes are still closed when we stop, and a disembodied voice booms across the grounds.
“Welcome! We hope you all have enjoyed the festivities tonight. We are about to run our 130th Penny Walk Ceremony at this time, and we need all residents to make their way over to the center clearing while we introduce our contestants this year. As you know, The Penny Walk is open to all female residents of at least seventeen. If you are a new resident this year, you must present at least one female of age as a contestant in order to pay for your family’s rations from the past year. This year we have 32 women participating! That’s a record, folks!”
At this, the announcer begins going through our names, ages, and what family we come from. When he makes it to Piper and I, the crowd whistles and whoops. She was right. They love twins. I lose focus after I hear my name, and by the time I tune back in everyone has already been announced.
“I need anyone who bought a ticket to step forward at this time. Miss Clara is going to take your tickets in exchange for a basket full of pennies in the corresponding amount. We have also evenly split up the amount of pennies that were donated between the number of ticket holders, so everyone has a fair shot. There are a few rules that I will go over while you claim your baskets. First, the girl with the most amount of pennies at the end is our winner. One small disclaimer on this, is that the girl must be conscious. We have in the past had some families try to stuff their girls after they passed out. Because of that, this year we have decided that we will now remove any unconscious contenders before that can happen. Second, you are allowed to touch the girls however you like, but you cannot cause purposeful bodily harm. The contestants are aware that there are occasional injuries as it is an overwhelming game, but as a ticket holder you have agreed to not purposefully inflict pain upon any participant. Medical professionals will be standing by to help with injuries. The third and most important rule is that we now allow contestants to leave the clearing if they are in too much pain to continue. If you leave the clearing you do forfeit your chances of winning, regardless of how many pennies you have received at the time. Ticket holders, please do not attempt to offer pennies to a contestant trying to leave the field.
Now, it seems that everyone has their baskets. I would like to take a moment and thank these women for offering themselves up as payment for the things we require to live our lives. Before the ceremony each of these contestants received a blessing so that they might become an offering if they do not survive the ceremony. We are going to take a moment of silence to honor their sacrifice. At the sound of the bell, the 130th Annual Penny Walk will begin.”
The seconds between the echo of his words clipping off and the chime of the bell are excruciating. I am crying silent tears, and Piper is squeezing my hand so hard that my wrist throbs. The bell explodes through the crowd and reverberates across my skin.
The men swarm us. I stand as still as I can, though my first instinct is to cover my face. I am staring straight ahead, elbow brushing Piper’s elbow, when the first man comes to us. He licks my cheek as he slides a penny into Piper’s cunt. She is crying, but she doesn’t move. Next he walks behind me and shoves two inside of me. The metal slides inside easily, and my body swallows it up. He leaves with his basket and continues up the line to see what else he might like. Before I can look to Piper two more men are on me. The first is underneath me pushing penny after penny into my pussy. If I were wet it might not be that bad, but I am terrified, and each one hurts more than the next. I think he must use up his entire basket on me. The other man is holding my mouth open and sliding the pennies across my tongue before he stuffs them in my cheeks. He lingers too long on my lips as he slides the fifth one in, and I have to concentrate hard on not vomiting. He sucks at my nipple, as another man approaches. I am sliding the pennies under my tongue in case someone else wants to use my mouth, when I vaguely hear that three contestants have left the field and two have passed out. My mouth tastes like blood, and the only thing I can smell is copper. Another two contestants leave, swatting at men trying to follow them out of the clearing. Someone else is holding my hands behind my back as they bend me forward to slide more pennies inside of me, and I barely catch a glance of Piper. She is on the ground now, and she is still crying, but her eyes are open. I feel blood trickling down my leg as the men continue to push in as many coins as they can fit. A large man pushes me down to my face to shove pennies in my ass, and I shit all over myself and him. The blood from my overstuffed pussy is pooling around me on the ground. He licks me from my neck down to my ankles. Acid makes its way up my throat, and I carefully push it back down, while still holding the pennies in my mouth. Someone rolls me over, and I notice that Piper is gone. There is only one other girl in the clearing with me. She is on her knees and leaning forward as a man slides pennies into her bleeding holes. I lay back and spread my legs wide. Pray for more pennies.
Horror Sleaze Trash 