The African trinkets

Round Here

Round Here by Counting Crows

(P!ATD cover)

She said did you think that you were dreaming?

I said no.

Did you think that you were dreaming?

I said no.

Did you think that you were dreaming?

I said sometimes I don't know.

Marcus woke up in the same stone walled prison cell that he had fallen asleep in. He was groggy but could still recall the happenings of the previous day with precision. This was because of reputation curtesy of having reported Victoria's suicide over and over again to officials.

He acted upon instinct as opposed to calculated thought. Marcus immediately fled the scene and told the first person he could find about what happened. As one would expect, Marcus and secondary witness to his claims made their way to the authorities and reported the ordeal.

Marcus, secondary witness, and an officer Richardson hastily made their way to the scene shrouded by the trees of the forest to find Victoria laying bare. Her skin had discolor red to an ash grey and foam began to collect in the corners of her mouth. Marcus was so overcome with the reality of her death that he vomited but he quickly pulled it together.

Officer Richardson shrugged off his jacket, despite the chill of winter, and covered Victoria. He then instructed Marcus and the secondary witness to help him carry her corpse to the police carriage. The secondary witness was quiet for the journey back to the park and by the time they had loaded the body he took Marcus aside and told him how he'd prefer to disassociate with this business.

Marcus begged him to at least ride to the station and testify that Marcus was just a by stander if sorts and that Victoria's death was indeed suicide and not homicide but the man outwardly refused to do any such thing. He pat Marcus on the back and hobbled away as fast as he could.

Marcus should have taken the man's desire to leave well enough alone as a sign that whatever transpired after Victoria's death would somehow point fingers of blame to him. Of course, Marcus would be the scape goat! The circumstance was too grotesque for it not be his fault.

Victoria was found naked and poisoned in the park forest after Marcus Stopforth had brutalized and molested the young miss Tate. Marcus held mental court as he sat in his cold cell. The judge would ask him how does he plea to such an accusation and to this Marcus would deny but Lance's lawyer would shoot up from his seat and claim that several eye witnesses saw Marcus lead a scantly clad Miss Tate into the forest an hour prior to the murder. Marcus would interject and attempt to convince the judge and jury that Victoria was not sound of mind hence her suicide attempt.

Marcus' losing mental court battle was cut short when the guards entered the room of prison cells. The prison that he was dwelling in was not very formal and was somewhat makeshift. It was a halfway house for criminals who have yet to be trailed but were dangers to society. Marcus groan with frustration because he did not belong here.

The freshest prison was very vocal about being put away. She didn't even have to say a word, just from the timber of her voice, Marcus recognized Nolia's grunts of resistance. He stood up, walked to the barred door of the cell and pressed his face against it to see if it really was her. The world seemed surreal as Marcus watched Nolia, dressed in a men styled robe, struggle in the grip of officers as they forcibly ushered her into the cell directly opposite to Marcus.

She was obviously out matched by the men but Nolia fought anyway. Nolia clawed, pinched and scratched but her efforts were ruled out when the ever courteous officers threw her into a damp, cold prison cell. Marcus was in awe at Nolia's presence. This prison was specifically intended to constrain murderers regardless of race, gender or age.

Marcus shook his head in disbelief. Nolia was a chamber maid not a murderer. He tried to imagine Nolia, who happily served him tea and sandwiches, attempt and succeed murder. Images of faces continually ran through his head as he tried to guess at who the victim could be.

Nolia's entrance had caused a stir and the once quiet prison was now bursting with chatter. Marcus watched Nolia shrink as she was on the receiving end of hecklers and cat callers. He watched Nolia hug herself, watched her shoulders shake and her fingers dig deeply into the skin of her arms. The prominent bulge of the veins in her hands and the strained tension in the muscles of her arms sent a shudder through his body.

Marcus could almost feel the energy that Nolia was emitting. It was sinister and seething and uncontrollable. Marcus had initially wanted to reach out to her, confide in her and vouch for her. Despite his fleeting feelings for her, Marcus would, without a moment's hesitation, jump to Nolia's defense.

But Marcus' pledge of loyalty quickly deteriorated as he watched her heavy, labored breaths turn her once shrinking body into an expanding unit capable of unthinkable horrors if she were to explode. Marcus' back bumped the stone wall of the cell and he realized that he had been backing away from the threat that resided behind the metal bars directly across from him. Nolia had changed drastically since the last time that Marcus had been in her company.

For the first time in Marcus' life he thought Nolia to be capable of savagery. She looked feral and Marcus wondered what Lance thought of Nolia's reversion to an African barbarian. He couldn't help but compare Nolia to an exotic pet with the allure of African mystic who had gone rogue. Perhaps he was simply hearing things or bored but Marcus swore that he heard incoherent babbling and growls.

Marcus tried his best to conserve his opinion of Nolia by removing her from his thoughts and paying her no mind but her extremely vocal refusal of the meals throughout the day peeked his curiosity about her being imprisoned.

"Am I as unrecognizable to you as you are to me?" Marcus asked when Nolia had simmered down to a boil.

"What?" Was all Nolia could manage. Marcus had added his voice into the flurry of sound that was already swirling in her head. Her response was belated.

Marcus had no intent of regarding her harshly but his first instinct was to be critical, "You look horrible." He said without malice.

Nolia sniffed, sat up straight, wiped a falling tear then cleared her throat. She didn't answer right away though, Nolia's looked at a space next to Marcus' head as opposed to his eyes and thought. Her eyebrows furrowed and her lip quiver but she quickly recovered and brushed her hair down with her hand, "Why, Marcus, is that any way to talk to a lady?"

Marcus watched as her mouth twitched into something that could be called a smile but failed miserably, "Ladies do not reside in prisons. You and I are ruffians now."

"Save the fact that you are the queen of the ruffian pageant and I pale in comparison." She stood up and cleaned the fallen food off of the front of her robe, "But if you ask me, the entire event is fixed and in your favor, Sir." She curtseyed coyly.

"Is this a joke to you!" Marcus had stood up and tightly grasped the bars in front of him. Before he could register the severity of his tone Nolia's faux playfulness was gone. Nolia began swinging her arms around. She was staring at the ground and began moving her lips.

Marcus waited and waited and waited but Nolia did not speak. In her mind, Nolia was drowning a reply over and over but this translated into an awkward and pitchy hum.

'I wish it were.'

'I wish I was joking.'

'I wish I were funny.'

'I wish I could laugh away my sadness, my insanity, my mistakes.'

'All of them.'

'I wish I could laugh away Phillip.'

'I wish that this baby were a joke.'

'I wish I were laughing.'

Nolia's mind had melted and was now seeping out of her ears and floating around the small cell. She could no longer put forth a logical reason as to why she killed Phillip to herself and she would sooner cut out her tongue than tell anyone, especially Lance, the reason for committing murder.

Nolia stood in the center of the cell, arms swaying, eyes flooding, body trembling as her mind vacated her body. . .