The African trinkets

Island

What realm existed beyond rock bottom, thought Lance as he lay on his back in bed. He had ushered a broken hearted Rosie into the kitchen, made her tea and offered condolance for a week but none of it was enough for her and he knew it. Rejected and exhausted, Lance dragged himself up to his chambers and collapsed. He had fallen asleep to the sound of Rosie's mournful cries and woken up to her mournful sobs.

He was surprised that he had managed a dreamless sleep at all. Ever since Nolia's confession he had sleepless nights and nightmare tormented naps. Lance's stomach churned at the deception he endured and how whole heartedly he had believed her. He thought himself a guiable twat for thinking that Nolia truly cared for him. Bile rose up in his throat when Lance remembered that he had proposed to such Jezebel.

Lance sat up, hoping to redirect his thoughts from Nolia. If he was ever to forget her then he could not mope about all day long like he had been doing for the past week. After all, Lance was to be destitute in a matter of days and he had matter's to attend to to assure that he did not drag the name of Tate into the homeless streets. Being the sole survivor of his family, Lance felt an obligation to retain as much pride till the very end. He had decided that he would put on his finest suit, eat an expensive and unapologetically delicious breakfast, ride to the bank to sign all of the paperwork that would settle his father's debt and with whatever remains in his pocket, and then drink himself to death.

It seemed to be the best course of action seeing as Lance's young life was over. Vivian had left with little Chrystal when he had returned from visiting Nolia. Lance chuckled darkly when Vivian did not leave as much as a note saying goodbye to the father of her bastard daughter. He didn't care for either of them one bit. Vivian was a whore and Chrystal, no doubt, was well on her way to following that strumpet's example. Blast them all!

Lance inhaled as much as of the stale air of his room allowed and walked to his wardrobe to select his pretensious apparel. Without much thought, Lance started to dress himself in a deep navy blue suit and his most crisp white dress shirt. He spied himself in the mirror and thought how well the colour suited him. A sadness swept over him when he remembered the compliment that Nolia graced him with when she had seen him wear it: "It's as if the early night sky wrapped herself around your body because she had found her match in the brilliance of your blue eyes."

"The night is a woman?" I asked after being rendered smitten by her compliment.

"Of course the night is a woman. The night is adorned with star speckled skin and was gifted with the moon as a broach. There is an undeniable femininity about the absolute darkness of her being. She is a sensually mysterious and sinister woman indeed..."  Nolia said all this as she adjusted his suit to perfection.

I stared at the dark brown cosmos of her down cast and distracted eyes and I couldn't help but think how beautiful she was. She was as beautiful and mysterious as the night and I didn't know what to make of the sinister business but I did not care to puzzle over it. I couldn't resist the urge to reach out and caress her midnight skin but she ducked out of my hand quickly.

"Matser Tate, please." Nolia looked about the my room and I remembered how my mother had scolded her for being callously casual with her 'master''. We often forgot the divide and my mother noticed that my intentions for Nolia extended beyond the realm of what she deemed civilized. I suppose I could understand mother's disdain for female slave and master intimacy because it had fractured her marriage but I couldn't help but think of Nolia in other way than I do now...

Lance scowled at his image in the mirror as he recalled his utter stupidity and inability to percieve Nolia's less than subtle hint. "Sinister" Lance spat the word out of his mouth repeatedly as he changed into his second finest suit of summer storm grey and when he had finished dressing he looked himself over, determined that he was finished with dwelling over things passed, he paused and reflected on how he had attained the suit. Phillip had given it to him as a birthday gift...

My mind had been a cease pool filled with unspeakable thoughts when Nolia had told me that she had been having an affair with that pig. I wished that there was a kind of way to clean one's thoughts, bleach them from the taint of seeing Nolia's naked body being ravaged by Phillip. I don't even know what bother's me more: the fact that I had been sharing Nolia or the fact that I had loved Nolia while Phillip had not yet she still let us share her.

Lance tore the suit from his body and if he had had the time he would have vanquished the garmnets with fire. He shrugged off the bank idea, no doubt the bank would collect their just desert in a matter of days and they did not need Lance's offical consent to repossess the estate and evict him. The only thing Lance could do was leave, pawn whatever he could and then drink himself into eternity. Lance tried to convince himself that this was a good idea. He stood, naked, in fornt of a mirror and repeated his plan out loud but it seemed that the more he vocalised it the more pathetic he felt. Lance blinked away tears as he spoke with a croaking voice, the only sound int the entire manor was his madness.

He was lossing it and he was alone. Lance shook his head, isolation was an island with space enough for two...