A Hazel Haven

Interlude

Interlude

The scenery before me was breathtaking. And even though I slept and awoke to the same trees, flowers, expanse of carpet grass with its velvety greenery, it always seemed a new sight, never failing to leave me in awe. It never used to be there-not the encircling walls that looked impregnable, not the luxurious cars, and certainly not the very grand house I now lived in.

It was an estate, and it was my home.

Strolling down the finer grounds towards the swimming pool, I tugged at my suit and took pleasure in how it felt. It fitted perfectly. Very manly, and of course, I was a man in my own right.

Funny how they had left me to die, but I ended up finding Father, having a family to which I was indispensible and venerable for my skills.

I was headed for the bar and I could see the man in charge idling away with an adult magazine, a cigarette jutted from his lips.

He looked up and clamped the cigarette awkwardly to a side. "Boss," he parroted.

I nodded. "The usual," I said sitting on a bar stool. While he mixed up a cocktail, I watched quietly. "You know smoking will kill you."

At that the older man smiled. With care, he placed the wine glass before me. The tip of the cigarette smouldered red hot as he drew in long and hard, his cheeks denting deeply. Grasping the stick in two fingers, he plucked it out and released a puff of white smoke. He grinned, revealing discoloured teeth. "Something must kill a man."

I still didn't know his real name-none of us did. Our names were Father's, and once under his employ, an alias was given, usually after the most prominent features.

The bearded vulture, that was what he was called: probably because he was bald and the beard, flecked with white, flowed to his chest in a neat V. If I were to ask the obsequious man his name, most likely he wouldn't remember, and that's what the whole thing was about.

Born in Father, the man you once were fell by the wayside and existed no more.

Another victim to pay off his debt with years of servitude, and like some of the workers in this place, the years worked well into their death, and even after that, families incurred whatever was left. It was still better than the alternative because I would hate to see him go by my very capable hands.

The bearded vulture went back to poring over his magazine.

Or Someone. I couldn't agree more. I swirled my drink before taking a swig. The taste flooded my mouth and burned down my throat, eliciting a grimace and a contented burp. There was a time when I couldn't tolerate the smell and the taste, but men did manly things. And that included consuming drinks of the strong kind, so every break I had was used to man up.

Holding the glass up, I stared at the content that was dark red in the poor light ,speculatively, as I decided over the tweak in taste.

It was still a wonder to me that I was holding such a glass, drinking such exotic drinks. True, one never knows his destination in life: bleeding in a shrine today, living comfortably tomorrow.

"Chief, sir!" Skeleton saluted from behind me. I knew from his voice and the way he stomped his foot, and even though I was aware of the greeting, it still took awhile for it to register that I was the human of regard.

So much for my break...

Placing the glass gently on the counter, I still didn't turn to see his grotesque face that haunted dreams, but I flicked a finger to acknowledge him.

"What is it?" My voice sounded different and I hated it. With years of practice, mimicking came easy to the point of proficiency, but sometimes the real one-reedy and effeminate-would come through, especially when I was displeased.