The Walking Corpse: A Thandiubani Short Story

THE walking corpse: A THANDIUBANI SHORTSTORY

Suddenly, I heard Mama shout and scream in pains as Papa rushed out of the room in anger. He dived under the drawer near the big flat screen TV and pulled his revolver, pointed at the short, dark and ugly armed-robber who sandwiched his bare manhood in between Mama's legs. The bullet pierced the arm-robber's back and sent him crashing to the floor with a painful shout as he dropped dead. Another bullet went off from the revolver as it caught the other armed-robber who was busy emptying our liquor in his stomach since they entered the house. He was sitting on the big chair that faced the liquor bar. The bullet pierced his heart and came out through the other side of his body. I could see as the bullet bore hole in his heart and the smoke that followed. It ripped his shirt and tore through his skin and stopped right at his back. The big bottle of Heineken in his hand dropped with a loud boom. He fell to the ground writhing in pain before he gave up the ghost…

So they came four in number brandishing guns and threatening our lives. It was another Saturday night in our beautiful home. Mama and Papa had me as their only child. I was still in my late teens when the tale I am about to tell took place. This story took place many years ago but the memories still linger within me – sour memories with devastating outcome – for a lifetime.

“Shut up your dirty mouth” shouted the short man with a long gun. He pointed at my father’s head ready to pull the trigger. He was mean, ugly and hairy. His eyes were big and he had lips as big as an elephant’s ear.

“You ought to have kept enough money for us, N500, 000 is chicken change” he barked at Papa who lay face-down hugging the earth out of fear. Mama wore a red silk night-gown looking like a 20-year-old. She too was on the floor face-down near Papa trembling. Her hands spread and face kissing the bare floor.

As the General Manager of CCEFF group of Companies, Papa was without doubt a marked man. His fleet of cars and mansions made him an easy target for armed robbers He was a very rich man.

As they jerked Papa up hitting him with the base of their gun, tears ran down my cheeks.
I began to tremble not knowing that the unthinkable was about to happen.

Papa went into the room with two of the four armed robbers; I prayed in my heart that he should check inside the pillow in my room which had the N900, 000 I was supposed to have paid into his brother's account for her mother's sick bills. But, I dared not utter a word as I lay kissing the floor with my face tightly-hugging the rug and eyes wide shut.

Suddenly, I heard Mama shout and scream in pains as Papa rushed out of the room in anger. He dived under the drawer near the big flat screen TV and pulled his revolver, pointed at the short, dark and ugly looking armed-robber who sandwiched his bare manhood in between Mama's legs. The bullet pierced the arm-robber's back and sent him crashing to the floor with a painful shout as he dropped dead. Another bullet went off from the revolver as it caught the other armed-robber who was busy emptying our liquor in his stomach since they entered the house. He was sitting on the big chair that faced the liquor bar. The bullet caught his heart and came out through the other side of his body. I could see as the bullet bore hole in his heart and the smoke that followed. It ripped his shirt and tore through his skin and stopped right at his back. The bullet caught his heart and came out through the other side of his body. The big bottle of Heineken in his hand dropped with a loud boom. He fell to the ground writhing in pain before he gave up the ghost.

It was then that I saw Papa crashing to the floor as the revolver dropped from his hand. It was like time stopped and he looked at me in the eyes as if whistling a secret. His eyes were red and his mouth wide open yet no word came out. He looked at me intently before crashing to the floor. I was lost, trembling, confused and motionless. I closed my eyes and wished the ground should open and swallow me. Suddenly, the armed robbers rushed out of our house as if pursued by an unseen spirit. They were terrified too and never anticipated what just happened. Two of their men lay on the floor stone dead just like Papa. Even now as I write, my eyes are wet with tears. My thoughts are incoherent, a mind lost to pain and sorrow; Papa's bullet ridden body gave up the ghost in no time.

The scenario refused to fit into my mind. I was still mouth-agape thinking of what I had just witnessed when I fainted.

Four armed robbers came to our house, one of them forced his way into Mama, Papa out of anger shot two of them dead, Mama lay on the floor unconscious, and Papa shot dead by one of the armed robbers as they fled our home.

Many years have passed, but, I have vengeance written all over me. Mama died the next month. She never recovered from the trauma. Each time I remember all these events, I just feel like another walking corpse!

This life is wicked…

Disclaimer: this story is purely fictional and is the creative work of the author.

Any resemblance to reality is to be ignored.

A piece of creative writing by
Alexander Thandi Ubani
©®Copyright 2014
A Poet, Playwright, Writer and Thespian