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The Trick Of Fate

The dark clouds above fled the sky in panic as the moon scattered its silver light on the entire landscape By Nhamo Muchagumisa The night grew darker as Moses stood by the edge of the disused well, trying not to think about the depth in which the child had to drown. He held the child tightly to his bosom, like one who would never let her go. The warmth emanating from the child’s body told him of the life that was about to face strangulation in the deep coldness of the well. The two-year-old child remained quiet and calm, holding on to him as if Moses was the very person to save her from the looming termination of her short life. The child’s mother was watching Moses from a short distance, seemingly blessing Moses’ intentions. He had never recovered from his paternal uncle’s death through the sword of ritualists, as the state of his corpse seemed to suggest.

The dark clouds above fled the sky in panic as the moon scattered its silver light on the entire landscape

 

By Nhamo Muchagumisa

 

The night grew darker as Moses stood by the edge of the disused well, trying not to think about the depth in which the child had to drown.

He held the child tightly to his bosom, like one who would never let her go. The warmth emanating from the child’s body told him of the life that was about to face strangulation in the deep coldness of the well.

The two-year-old child remained quiet and calm, holding on to him as if Moses was the very person to save her from the looming termination of her short life. The child’s mother was watching Moses from a short distance, seemingly blessing Moses’ intentions.

He had never recovered from his paternal uncle’s death through the sword of ritualists, as the state of his corpse seemed to suggest. It was now three years down the line but the horrid image of his uncle’s mutilated remains remained fresh in his mind.

Now here was another ritualist who had hired him to kidnap a young virgin to spice his charms. This one was not going to be strangled or stabbed. She was going to be drowned. Moses’ conversation with the ritualist played in his mind.

“Just get me that innocent virgin and I will pay you US$5 000,” Mr. Pawadiwa had said. “Consider it done, but I need a down payment to carry out the deed,” Moses had said.

Mr Pawadiwa had hastily drawn his wallet from his side pocket and counted US$2 000 into Moses hands. “It will be the two of you, you and one of my men. You will meet your partner in the garage to map a flawless strategy. He is already paid for the job,” Mr Pawadiwa had said.

“The real business will be mine to perform. You must bring her alive to the disused water well at the edge of the deserted squatter camp. I will fasten a rope around her ankle and submerge her head on into the dark water and after her soul has fled her body, you will help me with the rest.”

Moses had received the money, his blood boiling with hatred and left the heartless man’s house. Now he was standing at the edge of the well, hoping to redeem his soul from the trauma of his uncle’s death.

He had made the necessary phone call to Mr Pawadiwa and he would arrive soon. His accomplice was waiting in seclusion, only a few meters from the deep water. The droning of a vehicle engine induced a sense of complete alertness in Moses. The heartless man was going to find his heart tonight.

Stealthily and dexterously, Mr Pawadiwa approached his man. As he did, the child held tightly to Moses. When he came to where Moses was, he asked, “Have you drugged the girl into drowsiness?”

“It was not necessary,” Moses said. “I’m feeling cold Momo,” the little girl said, as if to answer Mr Pawadiwa’s question.
“We are about to go back home. Just be patient.”

Mr Pawadiwa began to fasten a rope around the girl’s leg. But as he did so, he sensed another human presence, and another and another. While he was still perplexed, a robust grip found the wrist of his right hand and the ensuing arm twist made him scream.

Within another second Mr Pawadiwa’s forearms were secure in a pair of copper bangles. He only shouted “Foul play” as he was being dragged away from the scene.

The dark clouds above fled the sky in panic as the moon scattered its silver light on the entire landscape. A small crowd of police officers, Moses and two women followed closely behind. At the police station Pawadiwa was treated to some introductions that made his thoughts swim.

“I am Constable Mucharega, to my right is  Constable Tekwe and to my left is Constable Bvira. Across the desk from left to right is Moses Maweni, Angela Maweni and Angela’s neighbour, Mrs Taingwa.”

Mr Pawadiwa saw hell’s gates flying open before him. How could he be so easily trapped? “Moses,” he said, “Who is Ms Maweni to you?” “She is my aunt, and let me hasten to say you are no friend of mine. How could I be friends with a man who wanted my cousin’s blood?”

Moses watched Pawadiwa being howled into the police holding cells after a brief interrogation. Something seemed to tell him that Pawadiwa had committed other murders before, only that this time, the fiend he had befriended so long had abandoned him.

Nhamo Muchagumisa is an English Language and Literature teacher, and he writes from Odzi. He writes in his own capacity and can be contacted on +263771271478 Email him at: muchagumisan@gmail.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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