Young Writers Society

The world was quiet for Lekan. These hours in the early morning, after he had finally managed to tear himself out of his nightmares about Valod, the country he would be going to, were the worst. His friends were incredibly unhelpful. They whispered stories of men drinking wine out of their enemies’ skulls. While the people had a similar ancestry as Niditians- they spoke the same language after all- the split was obvious. Valodians were said to be barbarians.

Lekan had no wish to know what they would do to people they found spying in their country.

These hours, which ticked by so slowly as he watched the window for the first hint of light, were the ones where he couldn’t hide from himself. He had no distractions to lure his attention away from a future that wasn’t looking very long.

He’d taken up reading, but he had to have light for that, and he didn’t want that light sneaking through the crack under his door. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want anyone, not even the servants to know he wasn’t sleeping as if nothing was looming over him like an ax blade. There was some kind of shame involved that he knew was ridiculous. That didn’t seem to matter though.

He opened the doors to the balcony and stepped into the cool darkness, a book of sappy poetry under his arm. He’d always assumed if he ever started reading- which was a laughable idea- he’d read novels with adventure. It had been out of a desperate need to condescendingly laugh at something two nights ago that he’d picked up the poetry book off of the shelf at all. Needless to say, he hadn’t laughed. Swinging himself up with practiced ease, he used statues and trellises on the wall to clamber up to the roof. It was made of tile and, if he could make it up the steep slope, where a peak should be was flat and wide enough for him to sit on with comfort. He’d been climbing up there since he was a kid, hiding from his father.

He wondered what he was hiding from now.

Closing his eyes, he turned his face to the wind and imagined that it was wiping his brain clean. All the worries and fears were blown away, so he could start the day with a carefree smile and a laugh.

Even when he was younger, he had always marveled at how much of a difference a few feet made. The world seemed quiet and orderly from the roof.

Lekan raised an eyebrow as he saw the family car pull up to the front of the house. It also astonished him how few people cared to look up. It was easy to observe everything from here. Frowning, he leaned forward as Obi hurried out the door and watched the car drive away towards the palace.

He ignored the part of himself that sang hope. His uncle was going to work a deal with Rofulo, perhaps? He shook his head. It was better not to predict anything. It was much easier to look like he didn’t care if he didn’t expect anything.

Quieting his mind again, he watched the sun rise slowly and opened his poetry book to where he’d left off the day before.

Before long, the wild, devil-may-care Lekan wouldn’t even be a mask.

.~.~.

When the temple gong rang six times, he returned to his room. Normally, he lounged about, waiting for an appropriate time for an irresponsible young man to wake, but his skin seemed to vibrate. It was like his body sense the clock ticking down and buzzed with restlessness. How could he spend the morning doing nothing? He had no time to waste.

His mind wandered to Qui as he dressed quickly. She’d said she would find him. He grinned at the thought of her surprised face when she opened the door to see him. He chuckled to himself.

Qui’s address was no secret. A common dare among the younger men was to knock on her room’s door. No one Lekan knew had ever done it.

He left his room, grabbing the deck of cards Obi had given him on a whim, and jogged down the stairs, going through the back door to the outside. He stopped and went back in, grinning at the keys hanging on their designated peg. Obi must’ve gotten back without him realizing. Glancing around, Lekan stole the keys and left.

No one was in the streets other than the milk man and newsboys. Relishing the hum of the car, Lekan took advantage of the empty roads, speeding down residential streets. He barely had time to consider exactly what he was doing.

What if she was with a client?

He couldn’t quite stop himself from imagining the embarrassed horror of that moment. He then pondered exactly what kind of man wasn’t getting enough sex at home that he would have to wake up at this ungodly hour to get some.

Parking in front of the hotel, he made his way confidently into the lounge, smiling at the clerk who nodded back. Part of Qui’s allure was the fact that men had to come to her. The fact that she could afford a hotel room every night was just a statement to how talented she was. He took the elevator to the ninth floor, humming. Counting doors to the thirty second, he knocked and waited, wishing he had thought to bring some flowers. It would have been a charming touch.

He frowned when no one answered the door. Knocking again, he stood back and double checked his surroundings. He knew he was in the right place because he’d gotten this far three years ago when he and his friends had drunk a little too much. Fortunately, he’d never managed to knock and had run away instead.

Was this a decoy room to stave off stupid young men?

Or perhaps Qui’in was off doing some early morning shopping.

He sat in front of the door, smiling pleasantly at a lady who was passing, distain evident on her face. This would do for a surprise, he supposed.