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You Are Never Alone

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You Are Never Alone Her heart thudded loudly against the wall of her chest - voluptuous and fresh and young. His sweating palm reached over, and gently cupped the beautiful object, caressing it carefully, so as not to hurt the seeming fragility of the girl next to him. She embraced his warm back lovingly, scraping her long nails softly over the skin, so as only to enhance any pleasure, rather than extinguish it. Longingly Toppay looked into Sophia's deep, knowing eyes, and they kissed powerfully, launching in together, so that their bodies enclosed, and they drifted into a timeless sleep. They woke late the next afternoon, and dressed quickly. Toppay - his long hair knotted up - wore a brown horsehair shirt, with soft black trousers of expensive cotton to contrast. Sophia had long hair free flowing to just below the soft curve of her breast. She slipped on a dress of fine silk, so that in the right light, the darkness of her nipple showed through the pattern. She slid her feet into straw sandals. Toppay put his cutlass from the table into its sheath and attached it to his trousers, then he put two pistols in his belt and a knife in his pocket before striding the stride of a tall man down the creaky wooden stairs, into the parlour, and out onto the stoep of his small African house. Two servant boys, no older than fifteen, ran up, riding boots in hand, and helped him into them. The round, spiked spurs shone brightly in the early evening light. His horse trotted stately round the corner. She was a beautiful mare, her chestnut coat shining in the glow of the sun; the black leather saddle complemented it. The stitching was superb, lovingly entwined with green, black, and blue cotton in the family crest of the Bontanes - a wounded lion being grappled with by Toppay's great grandfather. ...read more.


He moved to the four tusks, and bound them together with twine, so that they would hang next to the horse's flanks without damaging its back. He now had the choice of either resting for a day before he wandered home, or he could march for twelve hours. Eventually, his want for Sophia shined through and he led the mare by the rein. When Toppay reached his homestead he quickly tied his mare to rail on the stoep, and removed the weight from her back. Awkwardly he walked into the parlour, and carefully placed the tusks at their perfect viewing angle on the table for his wife. He called her name and heard nothing; he was puzzled. Running back onto the stoep he hopped the rail and ran to the stable where he was overwhelmed by the powerful stench of death. In the next room it confronted him. All fifteen of his black servants were covered in swarming flies, bound to the wooden slats of the horse feeder. Each was mutilated beyond recognition. They had been stripped naked. Each had been played with by a very sick man - one had its chest slit open, and the skin pulled apart, revealing the flesh covered ribs beneath. Another man's genitals had been removed. The total effect was horrific, and Toppay swiftly ran to the window where he retched green bile. But now came an even more dreadful sight - his wife Sophia slumped in the next room. Toppay was bewildered as he glanced at Sophia again. Her hair had been shave off, and both nipples removed with a knife. Her throat was slit, and a scrap of silk from her dress had been tied round her neck into the wound. Then he saw the final piece of savagery. A rough hole had been cut into her chest, between her breasts, through the sternum. In side there was nothing; just empty - where the heart should have been there was just a bloody mess. ...read more.


He saw a one-armed man striding towards him, grinning: "Now," said James Vorn, "is the time when you die - in my hands! And look, we evenly matched: one arm verses one arm. Only problem is, who's the one with the gun?" He raised the Mauser squarely, staring at Toppay. Toppay knew that it was his time; he would now die. The man before him had sleeked back hair; black and long with a short beard much like that of Toppay. His eyes were blue and deep with meaning; brutality and pleasure in them. His skin was half-cast, his father French, and mother native African. The sweat glistened on his hands, so that they appeared to be metal like the gun. Moving down his body, his shoes were polished and designed for city wear; they were dusty here, and thorns stuck out at angles. The shot fired. Smoke puffed from the barrel, and the sound made Toppay's ears ring loudly. The bullet appeared and moved along its trajectory to the centre of his chest. This man was an excellent hunter, an incredible shot; the skill required to wield a gun one-handed was amazing, and for the first time Toppay, in his mind, complemented him. The bulled crashed into his chest, and blood spewed out, warm on his fingers. There was no pain. While he re-loaded, Toppay ran the short space between them, and as the last of his blood and strength ebbed from him, he drove the point of the dagger deep into James Vorn's temple. The two dead men collapsed together in a heap, on to the hot earth, just as the sun was setting. Vultures collected round, and dropped to feed on the carcasses. There was a feeling of serenity; happiness. It was all over, and the job completed. Toppay fell into Sophia's embrace. Warm and true for the first time in two months. They had finally moved on into a fantasy world of the love which was always between them - Toppay had never really been alone. George Young You Are Never Alone English Page: 1 ...read more.

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