Writing Fiction With Nhamo Muchagumisa : “Forget” Is Not An Easy Word

The traffic density on the highway was very high causing her to drive slowly, her heart racing as a result of her experiences By Nhamo Muchagumisa Finding the way out of Chikanyi's yard had not been an easy thing for Wilmar. A strong magnetic force seemed to hold her back, as if the end of her life had been sealed in his sitting room, and that she was just trying to be obdurate enough to try to find another end. Each time she reached the fringes of his yard, she found herself descending from the steps of the verandah porch of his house, leaving the place, with not the slightest intention to come back. "Why not shout for the prophet's help," she said to herself, "surely he would not wish me to be the ghost haunting his yard." The thought of the prophet rushing out of his house and laying his hand on her shoulder before asking "What's the problem woman?" conveyed a bitter taste into her mouth, as if her saliva had transformed into gall. She continued with her search for the way out of the nameless trap. It was nearly sunset.