Golden Wrists

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The manner of my coming is guesswork, I suspect I was drugged and wafted across the Atlantic as cargo. I may never see New York again.

In the first two days of my imprisonment, I lost the two companions who’s fate had been similar to mine. I mourned their passing and yearned for Ivory Blake with a terrible hunger of the heart. Ivory had become the core and center of my life but now was gone. I returned to the island of Plessious, along with the sweet but omnipotent Naomi Samis. They are gone, gone, gone. And I am here alone in the stone prison with its central column to which my neck is chained.

An iron collar is locked upon my throat. From it the chain to the stone column allows me to pace back and forth, a good deal of freedom but not enough to do me any good. I constantly plead for its removal but am only laughed at by those who attend my needs. Sometimes when no one sees. I shed my tears in the bitterness of defeat.

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