A Slave In London

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Are we the new slaves in the world we as a migrant population are the very essentials to run things but who are we really? What do we do all the time is become the pebbles on others feet. It is about the migrants which are housed in their own low self esteem we have come from poverty from murders from crimes which go unpunished and we are the victims of genocide and these are the stories which link us to the now free world.

Mystery / Drama
Age Rating:

Chapter 1

In the land of the nod, in the perishing cold without an umbrella without a cord to pull the train in the heads of the populace. There is chaos without end the meal has to be taken in small portions and the deeds of the women are obvious. The men at the cafe oblivious to the smallness of their lot, as they gossip on and on. There is a knock of time at the door the knock is insistent as if it were the demon let me out of this bag the knock is saying. They all congregate near the bag do not open there are swine’s about.

In the village of the nod time has stood still and there are only captives of the mind. The captives tell no tales and their miseries are not recorded, nor decoded. In their world suffering is born with the silence of destiny and there are many destinations to destinies whom no one can undo.

“Let me out. Let me out of this bag.”

They all congregate listening to the vowels and they do not know what to think. This thin whisper runs through them. There is nothing in the bag. There can’t be. Is it a he or is it an it? There is nothing in the bag they look?

“There is nothing in this bag? Is there neighbour?”

“Tides are turning we don’t know it is a tide maybe?” said the wise old crow in the tree.

“This might be an owl?”

“No it is a beetle?”

“No it is time itself?”

“Don’t be silly? How can time get in there it is obscene there is no time?”

“Then how do you explain age?”

“Well that just happens?”

“What does happen?”


“Don’t you see age doesn’t just happen it is made!”

“Unmake it ?”

“There is time everywhere my dears just get used to it.”

“I made my beds?”

“How many do you have dear?”

“More than I can count. More than that I don’t deserve.”

“My dear fool get a grip.”

“I am the whore of Cyprus, I became a whore in order to eat.”

“Perish the thought dear get a grip the groping in the hay it is men’s business.”

“Did you say men?”

There is a sneer from all she could say without saying where she got the information from. There is something a woman should not know it is indelicate it is against womanly know how being a woman is being ignorant. There is something we need to know about being woman but I cannot say what that is. When we know too much we are supposedly not good woman when we know too little we are considered stupid. Is there a stupid woman who knows too much or a clever woman who knows little? There is such a lot to do to find out about this. Is there a world out there for woman who do not want to be classed as men? Is there such a thing a woman in a dress making ends meet so that she can be womanly without trying to swagger into bedchambers of horrors?

“Why sneer at men what have they done you?”

“I fear to go out now it is business as usual without this ass I might have to carry the firewood myself.”

“Look slut stay away from my boys!”

“I can’t afford to pay anymore. I just can’t afford to pay anymore isn’t it time that I stopped paying for the food you all give me into my hunchbacked body? Stop feeding me you people stop feeding this soul let me live in my hut alone so that I can go in a clean state?”

Does she know too much this woman without anybody as she struggles in a remote village in Cyprus? Does she know what it is too know too much? There is a sneer as she struggles there is a sneer as she walks. The wails of the drums in her blood have stopped and she is left with the agony this brings. There is some who say she is an evil woman that she has brought this on herself and others who do not care what has happened to her. There are people who envied her and now they gloat as she carries the fire wood from her shoulders to her back in an agony of torments.

“Witch witch?” the boys stone her and the men enable her to survive as she is laid onto from pillor to post. She a woman who had nothing a mother who left her to starve and a dead father who lit fivers on whores cigarettes. There she is now in her limelight on her stage the stage is set her stage as she staggers from this tree to the next collecting firewood that would burn her hatred burn her lusts and burn her loneliness so that she can survive in order to torment the world with herself as the example she is that a child is born and dies but she was never a child.

Never a child because she was hunchbacked never a child because of her back and now she carries the firewood in order to be not carried she is not ashamed she did it to survive she is not shamed anymore there is a point when there is nothing to care for nothing to do but to survive the herself and live in order that she can breed her hatreds and dislikes in her vile and evil body. The body that let her down the body that saw her the brunt of amusements and dislikes. Never be different in a poor country never stand out in a poor country never stand out and she stood out she stood out a mile.

“Not on your nelly you will be cleaned by the Imam who will see that you are laid proper.”

“I shall perish from lack of kindness these people are unkind but they don’t know.”

“We dislike whores. We do indeed. It is a question of making an example of whores for the sake of the daughters who might stray.”

“I used to be a daughter too.”

They all laugh insane melody in their hearts it is obscene to see that little hunchback in the arms of a someone who has not had sex with it. They laugh in stitches it is so funny it is the funniest thing in the world to see an old whore in a state when she remembers her innocence.

“There is no innocence.” Says the hunchback.

“No?” They all want to know.

“Listen to me people?” says the grand niece with the body. They all wolf whistle this is no hunchback this might be more fun. They all come to leer they all come to pick at this one this might be a little juicier this might be the end of all the hunchback has had to endure.

“Aysel?” They all glare.

“Aysel?” They all come together.



“Is your name Aysel?”

“Is that your name?”

“How droll is that name?”

“How comic is that name?”


“How comely is that person?”





“Yes that is my name what are you all talking about?”

They all back down as if her anger is the time the bag was opening they notice the bag was opening.

“Aysel ?”


“Little Aysel from London?”

“England it is where all the whores are?”

“You have come at the right time your aunt is now old?”

“Come to replace her!”

“it is the accepted family tradition.”

“It be what men have to have in order to let the virtuous alone.”

“Oh yeah?” Aysel is not amused.


“Aysel ease a little closer we want to tell you something of imports?”

“Aysel you know your history your destiny your fears all that is now over love.”

“Aysel it is over we recommend you to our beds. It is the perfect solution to your dread.”

“Our dicks will see the light our dicks will delight.”

“Aysel the whore it is destiny we will laugh until we cry. Oh how you have come from London to your destiny it is fate my dear. It is fate. We are moved to see you in fact we are so moved it leaves us breathless. Decent women now can sleep in their beds so that you won’t sleep a wink.”

“We will toss the coin who will come first and who will be second and then there has to be seconds Aysel you are ours till you are withered and dust. You have nothing to fear about food and things we will give you everything you need. It is destiny that you come here it is kismet.”

“Aysel you whore leave my man alone.”

“Haven’t touched the bastard as yet.”

“Well don’t claw his face. I need his looks what can I do without a man with looks?”

“Then my dear give him his desert because he is insane.”

“He is is he? Mehmed are you insane?”

“Only fooling love?”

“Well it runs in the family?”

“Like insanity runs in yours?”

“We might be poor but we are decent folk?”

“Oh yeah you know what he just said?”

“I don’t want to know. What did the fart say?”

“That he and the others will fart me!”

“Mehmed off to bed. Tell me what else you want?”

“He might be mean with the facts shall I fill the ladies in?”

“Aysel don’t we will not betray you if you don’t betray us!”

“No it is a fact ladies that these men are today OUT TO screw a virgin.”

“You a virgin?”

“Well yeah.”

“No we didn’t say that we didn’t know.”

“A virgin is sacred like a cow in India.”

“A cow is it sacred?”

“Well in India it is.”

“We heard that they worship the cows in India. Well go ahead and tell us what our masters have said.”

“Well they want me to fill a position of national importance to you all.”

“Don’t say?”

“From your beds to mine it is a delicate thing you know ladies they all want to take turns on me a poor virgin. I know I am poor I know I am very poor but these monsters have just said they want to bed me all of them.”



“Where is the rolling pin?”

“You left it on the stove it might be just the right heat.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw you baking when I was coming here.”

“Oh yes. Mehmed?”

“I am coming dear?”

“Now gentlemen you were saying?”

“No we weren’t saying a thing can we at least have a wee kiss?”

“Not even a tiddle?”

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