Machia Veil Timeline
5:30 am, August 24th – Village of Denewood, Surridge
Kenya’s frustration with her parents had reached its peak. On August 24th, she tiptoed to the front door of her parents’ duplex apartment. The home was silent except for her stepfather’s intermittent snoring. She tiptoed. Lately, they were prone to throwing pots and pans at her. The clamour of metal clashing still rang in her ears. It was safer outside the house than within. As the front door creaked, she froze, terrified her parents would hear her. Her stepfather stopped snoring - she held her breath. It was five thirty in the morning. Her stepfather began snoring again, and she breathed a sigh of relief. To her delight, so did her mother. She opened the front door, leaving a thin gap to avoid waking them. Then, she sprinted through the cobblestone streets of Denewood. Stopping at her stepfather’s bank, she withdrew three hundred pounds, leaving his card under the door. She ran towards the forest until she reached the road that led to Guiltford train station. It surprised her she still had energy after running for over an hour. The 07:01 train was about to arrive. She inhaled, as her eyes darted from left to right.
What if Jerard wakes? He notices the door. I should have locked it. Stupid! A breeze. That will wake them! I should have locked the door. He may realise I came to Guiltford. No, that was a good plan. He’d go to the civic centre, then Denewood station. I am safe. Train please come!
Kenya reached Chaos Cross at 07:57, leaving the station. Then on to Triumphal Square. A flock of pigeons raised to the sky just as she reached the square. She fixed her eyes on the birds, and a whirlwind of excitement and terror filled her. Having left the door open made it impossible for her to return home. They had no way of finding her. She was going to find work. Even if it meant basking on the street. She walked up the east side of Triumphal Square towards Martin’s Lane and past the Londoom Caulseum. The city was waking up. Supervisors opened the restaurants and staff cleaned and prepared tables for the day.
My three hundred pounds have to last. No restaurants! Instead, she opted for a grocery store. Carrying her breakfast to the gardens behind St. Jude’s Church, she ate it. Now she was all smiles, listening to the birds chirping behind her.
She wandered through the bustling streets of central Londoom. Then she returned to St Jude’s Church. She would sleep the night there under a bench. But she was careful not to draw attention to herself, and she roamed further into the city. She searched for shop signs holding vacancy signs. The shop windows were a treat to the senses. One bakery had a tower of red, purple, and blue cakes on top of one another and a pretend red teapot above it with a pretend trickle of tea into a splashing cup with pretend froth. Kenya’s face lit up.
Later that day, she overheard cheers coming from the Partridge Gallery and headed in that direction. Was it behind the Gallery? No, it’s west of it.
Off Hypermarket, there were enormous crowds gathered. Kenya stopped outside the crowd, wide eyed. Towering above them was a woman five feet tall! Wearing a green wig with neon lights and a gigantic ballgown holding a parasol. Why is she so high? She inched closer by walking in a diagonal line. It was a carnival truck. A man dressed as a butler was driving it. The crowd cheered. The woman laughed as the butler lowered her to the ground. They welcomed her through a subtle door entrance, which surprised Kenya. A red carpet lined the entrance as a purple, glistening car pulled up; its rooftop adorned with precious stones. Expensive perfumes filled the air. The club had no windows. A dark stone facade. Arrivals exited their cars, each with a more dazzling costume than the last.
“The Gueye sisters!” exclaimed a member of the crowd.
The next guests to arrive were twins with delicious dark chocolate skin dressed in exotic cotton ball gowns. They wore matching large wigs made of red papier mâché roses. Puffy red, blue, and yellow patterned cotton sleeves and the longest train on a dress Kenya ever saw. They wore round sparkly glasses and blue lipstick. Wowing everyone. Yet other arrivals were more pretentious, with bigger carbuncle-like ball-gowns. They got attention, but more out of pity and ridicule. Another glamorous woman walked through. She wore an Elizabethan collar with fine embroidery and the slit eyes of a perfect diva. She reached her hand out as the staff received her, bowing. The fashion continued. Kenya was rapt with excitement. Dresses came in with grotesque statements, followed by a surprise of exquisite simplicity.
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I have to get a job here!
A security guard clocked her. Enthralled, she had never seen one up close before. His height was impressive and his look intelligent. He wore a sleek black suit that stood out from the loud, garish costumes. She became self-conscious. But then he shifted his gaze to the other onlookers.
Out of a sparkling diamond car arrived a smart man in an eagle cape. Everyone gasped. He smiled and waved. The crowd clapped. He opened the other door of the car, and one high heel stepped out. Then the other. The bright blue shoes gave off a glossy sheen. Everyone held their breath. In a display of grandeur, the man extended his hand. A woman emerged from the car in a vibrant, green dress, evoking thunderous clapping from the crowd.
Kenya’s heart fluttered. She imagined her dancing being discovered there, propelling her into stardom. She was studying the building when a member of the kitchen staff threw dark water into a sewer.
“How many times! Cuttings go into the bin, not the wash basin! Darn thing is clogged again.”
“I will fix it,” said the staff.
“Wait, oh no, no, no!” said another.
A fountain of water sprayed the kitchen floor, and the staff erupted in chaos.
“You didn’t turn off the water!”
Kenya slipped in before anyone clocked her entrance.
***
Kenya followed the faint thumping music, which got louder as she climbed a spiral stairway. But as she continued, it became a labyrinth.
“What’s up or down?” she asked.
The steps led up to a landing with archways. She went into the left arch. It led to an empty room. She returned to the landing and tried the right arch. This led her to another spiral staircase on lower floors.
“Well, this won’t do!”
She returned up the stairs and tried the middle arch.
“Finally!”
These stairs helped her jump a few floors, but then the mirage of options began again.
Kenya made it to the fourth floor. But the thumping music stopped.
I must be miles away now! She wandered through a long corridor, trying not to panic. Another set of stairs at the end.
Not another labyrinth, please!
She leaned over the edge and peered at a straight set of spiral stairs going many floors down. The walls were bright red and had golden Fleur de Lys motifs. The carpet was soft and had blue, green, and white arabesque patterns over white marble. She tilted her head to the ceiling, where white marble twisted into the stairs.
As she descended, she overheard piano music and the murmur of conversations getting louder. She moved slower until she peered at a long corridor that led to a restaurant. There was a hostess at the entrance wearing a red cone for a hat with gems and a tight dress with blue, green, and red patterns. Her skirt surprised Kenya. It was a miniature merry-go-round, complete with miniature horses and figures! She wore white geisha makeup.
How fun! She was eager to explore, but her plain clothing made her stand out. So, when the hostess gazed elsewhere; she ran into the corridor and hid behind a large plant. When the coast was clear, she tried a door. Then another. She found a ladies’ toilet around the corner. Hiding inside, she opened her rucksack and took out her flamenco skirt and tap shoes. She was going to slip in unseen. Leaving her rucksack under one of the ten wash basins, she planned to come back for it. She let her hair loose, resembling a member in costume, even if her top was a simple sleeveless burgundy top. The skirt was wide and a ruffle of black polka-dots over red chiffon.
Standing tall and with her shoulders back, Kenya walked out into the corridor. She walked with purpose and when the hostess reappeared; she greeted Kenya. Kenya smiled.
Lifts!
The lift doors opened, and five members poured out, but one struggled. Her chandelier shaped costume got stuck.
One guest faced Kenya, saying, “love your number!”
Kenya was holding her breath but managed a smile and a thank you.
She stepped into the lift and pressed the ground floor.
On arrival, a blast of pulsating music overwhelmed her senses. She was between two rooms. She headed to a dance floor.
“It’s now or never!”
***
The Dance Room
Kenya advanced to the centre of the empty dance floor. The evening was getting started. Conversations in the room shifted from idle chatter to curious inquiries of her identity.
There was a track playing. It had a jazzy, upbeat tempo instead of a flamenco rhythm. A variation of Mugesi Thoms’ top chart song Infern.
She used the song to suit her dance.
Since she was twelve, she rebelled against the classical flamenco moves and created her own style to great effect.
She moved with grace to the rhythm of the song. Clapping until she picked up speed, raising the stepdance. Then she stopped. Waiting for the next move of inspiration. Flowing in symbiosis with the playback and raising her arms to the ceiling. She arched her back and let her right arm descend into a fluid, graceful swirl. Her gaze was heavy with emotion. Throughout the song, she lost herself in the beats, dancing as though performing an ancient ritual that set her free from spiritual captivity.