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And just like that, she was left with a cold heart on the shiny-spotless red concrete floor to which her in-laws were meant to see their pessimistic reflections on. Her enduring fight for the privilege of being a Mrs, was deemed a futile act.
They rushed to the sight of her frigid body and attempted to resurrect her as though they really wanted her to wake up...heaven knows that their little atrocious hearts chanted DEATH upon her, even when she was already gone.
Hell opened it’s fiery jaws, ready to devour the piece of her soul deserving of condemnation. Little did the living pit know that this mystic woman was indestructible even with her soul crushed, befouled and banned from the well of happiness.
They wailed and shouted forbiddings as her body entered the doors to her second last ride. Her white carriage also wailed and illuminated the cloudy skies with red and blue lights, taking her to her metallic silver bed.
She peacefully rested on her silver bed without a single blanket covering her expired body, despite having the room temperature at a chilling minus ten degrees Celsius.
She patiently waited for her host to undress and prepare her for the bitter-sweet meeting with her family members, whom she last saw four days ago. She wanted to feel pretty so that her almost husband fell in-love with her all over again, and shame the devils in his family.
Indeed the private stylist-slash-makeup artist she had hired long ago, did justice to her unapologetically divinely feminine aura to match her reprobated physique. The blush on her dry but perfectly fair cheeks was alluring to the Necrophiliac maniacs.
Her big day had come.
Who knew that she’d go to her big event in a white two piece suit instead of a pearled and laced long cathedral silky number to force tears onto her darling Mpendulo?
Who knew that she’d go to her big event in a white two piece suit instead of a pearled and laced long cathedral silky number to force tears onto her darling Mpendulo?
Who knew that she’d be carried by her hypocritical uncles instead of being walked down the flowered isle by her tender father? That her eyes would be without tears, and her face without emotions?
She just lied there, and without her own approval, was lowered into the dark hole, then had her entire outfit concealed by wood, a heavy blanket and pile of ants and soil. She was convinced it was all over for her...but no! Her savior came back for her when everyone had left her.
His voice was loud and clear even though he was actually whispering. He showed his affection by purchasing her soul with an exceptionally bright R2 coin and had her dug up back to life.
How romantic of him..
How romantic of him..
With a special branch of a tree, he led her to the house that was about to become her tower. At first she hesitated to follow him but, the song on his lips was the most convincing form of art she has ever heard.
“Zithwashambane zoba zincwamba.
Zimlandele zisebenzele iziko lomnikazi.
Azibuzi mbuzo, zilalela Izwi lakhe.
Zithwashambane zoba zincwamba.” Was the song that led her to his home.
Zimlandele zisebenzele iziko lomnikazi.
Azibuzi mbuzo, zilalela Izwi lakhe.
Zithwashambane zoba zincwamba.” Was the song that led her to his home.
How sweet of him to introduce her to his entire family. They were all so welcoming. She somehow immediately felt like a member of their family.
His mother threw compliments at her saying, “You are the most beautiful young lady we have ever seen! Call me mother.”
His mother threw compliments at her saying, “You are the most beautiful young lady we have ever seen! Call me mother.”
He blushed every time she looked at him, and she liked it. He understood her, and she felt attached to him in ways no one can explain.
She also felt guilty for giving in to his magnetic stare because a piece of her soul still belonged to Mpendulo, her almost husband.
She also felt guilty for giving in to his magnetic stare because a piece of her soul still belonged to Mpendulo, her almost husband.
Perhaps her new lover would allow her to pay a visit to Mpendulo. He must still be devastated by her sudden death. She knew she could never be with him ever again but it wouldn’t hurt to watch him mourn for her. She needed that closure.
“Only after you’ve done your job...” her new mother said to her, when she asked to check up on Mpendulo. This was 6 months after her half resurrection and training onto becoming a *Ncwamba as they call her.
“Yebo mama.” She responded and travelled to Johannesburg to complete her task of making dinner for a lady that had disquieted a famous member of a notorious political party by her plans to expose him to the entire world.
She had been given an address and all she had to do was to prepare a surprise dinner for her. A dinner that would be a slow time-ticking bomb inside of her. The bomb would explode when the powerful politician ordered for it to blow.
Her life was now in his hands.
Her life was now in his hands.
She found her fast asleep on a beige fancy couch, with a lot of papers spread out on the grey carpet and on top of the oval glass coffee table. She must’ve been working on something very important. Perhaps an exposé on the overlord that had ordered her pre-assassination.
Without wasting time, she fed her the special clay and world hunted herbs that were to get the job done. The overlord had paid a lot of money to have her deliver this feast to this brave woman who had no idea what was coming her way.
This is how the family business is run.Her lover- Velehlathini offered a different kind of service to people. He organized spiritual snipers to take care of issues and/or people that stood in the way of his affluent clients.
He did this by the sending of his izincwamba- a special type of ghosts that are used similarly to Izilwane and amabutho. He had personally chosen and resurrected them for the important work to the circle of life.
Phindile was one of his many resources used to achieve this.
Phindile was one of his many resources used to achieve this.
The poor sleeping beauty ate her momentous dinner, wiping the plate clean and enabling the bomb to anchor onto her exhausted body. Her waitress soon departed and went back KZN to report progress to her mother.
A job well done!
A job well done!
