These are links to my other personal blogs:

Deconstructing Elisha , Leaving London 1999
Marooned on Tortola , Becalmed in Marin
In the Land of the Locust , Elisha's Boston Tea Party

The Wound in the Sphinx

I can be reached by my e-mail at: elisha.moor@gmail.com

The Bon Voyage Party at JJ's

My very close and dearest friend, J.J.Wells, had so typically decided to put on the First Annual 'Congratulations on Elisha Finally Coming to Her Senses and Abandoning Once and for Good That Very Big American Corporation' Celebration Ball. In point of fact, my sweet JJ requires very little cause to produce almost any imaginable celebration at her flat in London, and this was no exception. Though in point of fact, it was actually a Bon Voyage party for myself and last opportunity to meet with a close circle of friends offering tender goodbyes.

Located just off St. Anne's Court, JJ's diggings were often seen by myself as a second home and her as sort of a misbegotten sister. I had for some time intended to stand-down on my work and life in London and take that very long overdue holiday. My finally 'jumping ship' just then was as much a result of a well worked out detailed strategy for my future life as perhaps a poorly played game of pitch & toss.

My holiday destination was to be a tiny island in the British Virgin Islands with the somewhat exotic name of 'Tortola'. The name conjures up images of pieces of eight and flintlocks, though in reality I expected the place was as filled with satellite dish antenna as the Isle of Manhattan. And although my work with the 'VBAC' had certainly caused me to travel extensively to the Americas and points round the world, I had never managed to see the Caribbean. Thus I was very much looking forward to the complete adventure, whatever it held in store.

The party, as with all JJ's impromptu celebrations, was very well attended. She seems to know and be known by almost everyone in this part of the City and nobody was more liked. And she also had the knack, though some would say the curse, of assembling the right guests in the right order to the right purpose.

Having just resigned from my very well paying position in marketing and power within the upper echelons of the VBAC, a position I'd held for the entire decade previously, I was just then enjoying the euphoric 'high' of my recent life. Having set mine own course for the first time in a very long while, I was definitely looking forward to the coming months and what the new millennium would surely bring. Not since university had I been so confident of my life and future as on that cold, wet London evening. In retrospect, this should have been a clear signal of events to come. Alas, life is never so simple.

"Well my dear, now that you've been fucked by the best for so long, how about letting the rest have their way with you", JJ offered up as she handed me drink and a wink.

Yes, fucked and for so long by so many in so many unusual and pointless ways, leastways business-wise. I quickly offered in return that I wished her to appreciate I had been royally rewarded for each and every 'one'.

She continued, "But has all this been worth the personal irritation, my dear? I mean after all, every woman - even the likes of yourself must have her limit of such things, surely."

My JJ had the most terrible habit of taking up a theme and not letting loose. In large and modern organisations there's an ironic buzzword thrown around like so much poorly made sausage. It's the term 'work-life', sort of an ultimate Americanised version of Orwellian 'Newspeak' signifying neither work nor life and held out as an illusory carrot promising one hope but no personal rewards. Such 'doublethink' at long last was now behind me.

JJ, the sweet sprite that she is, immediately added, "Now Elisha, shall we be expecting a visit tonight from your dear American lover? I do believe she is in town after all, is she not? Dear girl as you're about to leave us for who knows how long, perhaps a brief tryst or other interlude is in order."

I understood JJ was only being playful and meant no harm, but in some ways her words were hurtful to me just then. I took a quick sip of my still nearly full drink and assured her that 'she' would definitely not be attending this evening's event. How to describe 'she' to the uninitiated? So few possibilities to choose from. An unremarkable colleague I had once chanced to work with while with the VBAC? Or perhaps simply a silly, fat, and overly ripe American turnip well past her social best-use-before-date? Although 'she' was perhaps many things to me at that moment, a lover was surely not one.

"Now that you're decided to go native on us darling, taking up the career-track of the lotus eater, how shall we ever stay in touch with you my dear? I mean do head-hunters and cannibals actually do e-mail these days?" I smiled and told her I was destined for the 'West' not the 'East Indies' and though an entire range of botanicals should soon become available for my use on and around Tortola, perhaps not actually the lotus itself. As for cannibals and head-hunters, I might in time actually require the services of a good head-hunter once my personal funding ran dry. It was apparent JJ was enjoying herself immensely and at my expense as well. I should miss so many things in my new life, the City and certainly my salary, as I was not independently much of anything. And of course I'd miss the small circle of close friends and even fewer treasured lovers, but surely the one irreproducible delight of this city was JJ herself.

I gently set my glass down

Quite spontaneously I stepped forward and gave my JJ a remarkably harsh kiss upon her soft and inscrutable lips. I had never actually done such before, though perhaps she deserved particularly this day. She unexpectedly responded with great surprise. This was very untypical of JJ, but it soon disappeared revealing the faintest hint of a smile.

"Now love, this island of yours must surely have some appealing local, lusty tall and dark kept man or the willing 'Girl Friday' perhaps?" I replied with some rubbish about personally having had enough of love and love making to last several lifetimes here or on any island. JJ simply continued to smile as she held out the back of one limp hand before my face as if awaiting someone to offer it a kiss, and to her great amusement I did just that.

The drone of music combined with the white noise of conversation diminished. Apparently some of the assembled were begun taking their leave in ones and twos of JJ's soiree. Of all JJ's ways that are closest to my heart, her choices of music and volume are not amongst them. Finally, having had more than my share of what passed for wine and cocktails at the gathering, I decided it was time to offer my farewells, embraces, and parting kisses, so I retrieved my small handbag, slung it over shoulder whilst attempted best I could to bring order to my hair and little black evening dress. That done, I decided it mat be best if I put off my group adéu and simply exited as quickly and quietly as possible. But just as I was about to make my 'break', JJ appeared behind with the toe of her pointed slipper caught within the inner reaches of my dress's hemline.

"Elisha, we must get together one last time before you wing off to your little island my dear. We truly must." I told her that as flight arrangements were in place for a departure early tomorrow afternoon, I didn't imagine we'd be able to manage it, but not to fear as I promised to call from the airport upon both departure and arrival. I also promised to do e-mail as I could. She looked less than convinced, but nevertheless offered me a light peck upon the cheek. The damp koal of her over-done eyes gave witness to an unspoken sadness at my leaving. Was it my insensitivity or worse that I had not noticed it during the earlier part of the evening. She at long last stepped back blowing me a final kiss as she closed her apartment's door. Exit Elisha.

Thus I emerged onto the emptied damp streets of London a little tired, quite more than a bit 'tight' and wishing only to return to my flat, fall gracefully into a steaming tub, then to bed.

A light mist was just beginning to come down

As I entered the darkened street I fumbled with my small handbag. At first I was only looking to produce my mobile phone, more to see what time it was than to place a call. Its feeble glowing screen assured me it was now well past midnight and thus I was not likely to be permitted entrance to the Underground and a quick return to home as I had originally planned. I then decided to find the number of a Lady Cab I had used prior and hopefully had entered into my miserable excuse for a phone. I tried squinting to see and navigate through the listings while loose hair kept falling and obscuring my view of the phone's minute menus.

And that is was very last image I hold of myself with any clarity in that previous existence in London. It seems now as if merely a snapshot taken from another life of a quite different person from myself. Few things remain today linking me to her. My view of life was about to come to a screeching crossroads.

It began as a voice out of the surrounding darkness. Something as simple as a man's voice saying, "Need some help love?"

Time and event have tended to make such details less than reliable in the retelling though the resulting truth of it is unalterable. I believe I may have responded with something to the effect of, "Thank you very much, but I'm fine - a cab's coming by for me in a minute or so - please don't bother."

But the voice from the darkness continued, "No bother 'tall, love. Jus' a bit too much for you then? A cab you say? I think not. You don't need a cab love. What you need is a right good shagging from the likes of a bloke like me", or some such rubbish.

I probably shouted back 'Bugger off' or leastways imagine I might have done, as I continued in my pantomime of searching for keys or cab fare or who knows what, with one hand on my phone and the other fumbling through the small purse. None of that matters as in the next moment I was lying spread and face down against the wet walkway.

I had been struck severely from behind with purse and phone spinning away and across the walk. I attempted to recover what sense I could as the dark voice materialised as a man's form. As he appeared I could make out a bald clean-shaven head centred with a brutish face broken by hideous grin. He approached quickly and immediately placed a heavy booted foot directly onto my stomach and chest pushing me violently downward. I winced with pain but could not scream - there is no self-defence in such an assault, only release, escape or death. The pressure of his miserable booted foot upon my chest and stomach was intensifying as I tried to reach with both hand in a futile attempt at freeing myself. My stockings had been torn by the force of impact to the walk and both knees were bleeding and in terrible pain. The brute then suddenly broke off and immediately began to straddle my form. He was holding my arms tight beneath his filthy body and my chest. Slowly I began to feel the back of my head burning from what must have been my initial bludgeoning and was certain I was bleeding as well. I prayed for the release of death - even oblivion, but the dark voice brought me back with each cruel word which I imagined were the last I should ever hear.

"See this love?", he grimly announced as he plucked a large rude knife from behind his back. "This is your ride", and he immediately crouched down and tore at the neckline of my small black dress with one great filthy hand. "You know what I need from you?", he said as he levelled the knife with my cheek and neck. And then as if following some demonic script, he reached viciously pulling up the hem of my small black dress and forcefully tore at my undergarments. I had no sense of it all nor breath within to make a sound in protest to the insult.

He quickly leaped to his feet momentarily and worked to make his trousers clear but immediately dropped back straddling my form even more grotesquely. I suddenly visioned the scene as if hovering above - the two of us empty souls mocking an image of love making so perverse as to defy mind.

Then he dropped the knife and placed both his filthy and heavy hands to my shoulders as the heinous and pathetic drama played out. As he attempted to cruelly penetrate me sexually I ceased to struggle and merely lay with eyes open in a watch for my own death. But no. His cruelty was far worse. The beast was not merely raping me, he was attempting to sodomise me as well. There on the cold rough wetness of the mist and walk my mind began its retreat as if to infinity. That in retrospect was fortunate for I believe it somehow safeguarded what spirit I possessed that remained.

Again and again he penetrated and defiled my motionless form until 'it' had had it's fill. Then after a moment, it got to its knees. With filthy hands covered with fresh portions of my blood pushed hard and down against my mouth. Once to his feet he worked to pull up his trousers and grinned the most profane smile while fastening his belt. That grin broke only for a moment when he spat into my frozen and silent face. I chose to close my eyes as the dark voice continued. "Did you enjoy that bitch? I think you did love. I liked you so much, I think I'll be back tomorrow, if you don't mind. Fine then love?"

And as if to mark his presence forever and for always even deeper into my life, he suddenly turned and threw a heavy booted foot directly across my right cheek. My skull took the impact - dulled bone against dull boot. Graciously I was laid immediately unconscious. My spirit was free at last.

Slowly over time, I returned to the land of the living

I was lying in hospital for days with only the foggiest of recollections of events surrounding 'the incident'. One I treasure is that of sister looking caringly down upon me with near angelic smile and heavenly eyes. Her voice came through the lifting haze with, "How are you feeling today love? A bit better? Feel like a bit of broth for you today dear? There's a good girl."

It was thus that my dispersed life was slowly brought back to the world of the living small portions at a time. How much of those moments and times were dreams or nightmare? I've difficulty in determining that to this day. But my life and world eventually took form once again. Even poor JJ came with her tears to help in my recovery. No bones broken, though severely bruised, abraded, and brutalised was the diagnosis. Deeper still were wounds so disturbing that even I've not properly inspected them even yet.

Why is life so often like this for so many? Why do we each offend the other in such unspeakable ways that defy our humanity? I've never even been offered a glimpse of an answer from anyone. Perhaps there is no answer.

As the new millennium broke, I boarded the plane departing Heathrow for the Caribbean alone without fanfare or tear. It was all as I had requested. I left London as if turning a ponderous page by thieving every ounce of thrust the great aircraft's four large engines could muster. At last my life slowly began climbing beyond the rain and overcast skies above England to points yet unkown.

You may reach Elisha by e-mail at: elisha.moor@gmail.com

All writings and images © Copyright 2010 by the author, Elisha A. Moor