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zim short stories

I decided to compile my short stories into a portable eBook, available in three formats—pdf, mobi (for kindle) and epub (for most eBook readers). And best of all, it’s free!

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Happy reading.

Ambition Prevails – a Zim short story inspired by “true” events (Part 2)

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I know the general direction to Chiripi’s house. I just run. I pray nothing is following, though I dare not look back. When I see the gate up ahead, a little relief washes over me. But my chest will surely explode before I get there. What if some vile creature catches me before then? What if it’s waiting for the exact moment the gate slows me down? My world becomes that much smaller, and the air is sucked out of it.

I fumble through the gate, panting like a dog, and with my heart at my throat. When I reach Chiripi’s door, I knock frantically. I won’t be taken at salvation’s gate. I knock again. Only now do I look back. Did anything follow me?

When the door is abruptly open, my heart does somersaults, almost jumping out through my teeth. Continue reading “Ambition Prevails – a Zim short story inspired by “true” events (Part 2)”

Silhouette – A Consuming Darkness excerpt

A CONSUMING DARKNESS excerpt 7

She descends into one of the virgin forests on the farm. When her feet touch the ground, she hears the crunch of leaves. Her heart leaps to her throat, at the thought of something hearing her. A darkness falls over the forest like the sun has just been swallowed by a dark nebula. She shivers in the cold, yet she knows that she must continue.

As she moves deeper into the woods, she hears something – a female voice, chanting. In the dark, she can only make out a silhouette of a woman on her knees, rhythmically clapping her hands. The sound of her claps drowns out her chants.

Tari moves closer, but cautiously. She only senses malevolence from the kneeling woman. But she was brought here for a reason. Now only a few feet away, she wonders what the woman is communing with. She moves around her.

The outline of a clay pot emerges into view. It is filled with …..blood, or what looks like blood. The woman falls silent and allows her arms to rest. The blood begins to rise. It clings to the sides of the pot like it doesn’t wish to fill it, like an organism desperate not to leak out of its home.

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Ambition Prevails – a Zim short story inspired by “true” events (Part 1)

fantasy-2935093_1920Image: pixabay.com

The hut smells of smoke and long dead things. I look in the shaman’s eyes and I only see darkness and danger. I look over to Charles, who sits beside me on the goat hide mat. His face is scrunched like a toddler observing one of life’s many intricacies for the first time. How determined he was, and still is. Why did I allow him to rope me into this?

“We’ll be rich,” he told me.

“An overnight success.”

The best kind isn’t it? You sacrifice nothing except your soul. Continue reading “Ambition Prevails – a Zim short story inspired by “true” events (Part 1)”

Shaman – A Consuming Darkness excerpt

A CONSUMING DARKNESS excerpt 6

Tari didn’t know the ground could be so brutal. With her sandals off, she can feel the tiniest stones in the dirt. It’s as if someone took time to sharpen them, and for her inconvenience. Will she see blood if she looks under her feet?

She resists the urge to scratch her soles with every step. The hut they go to is a few meters away, but she dreads the pain in store for her. She feels every step like she walks through a field of thorns. Maybe if she had unshakable faith, she could walk the path as effortlessly as a religious zealot walks over a bed of smouldering coals.

They were told to remove their shoes by an elderly woman. She is dressed in what passes as traditional garb – a blue and green printed head scarf and a wraparound garment with green and beige prints. She wears seed and wooden bead jewellery around her ankles, wrists and neck. Although she too is barefoot, she doesn’t seem to suffer for it.

Tari wishes she could fare as well.

When she looks to Mr and Mrs Naka, she doesn’t find kindred spirits. They too just proceed like it’s a stroll in the park on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Mrs Naka’s face appears frozen in a frown, with the corners of her lips drooping slightly. Tari wishes not to look like that when she is her age, or any age for that matter.

When Mr Naka suggested they see a Shaman, the voice of reason only nudged her. When she was driving them to see Chiroveso, it nagged her. But now, barefoot and gullible like a toddler, it screams at her.

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