March Contest

An African Story

By March 14, 2019 No Comments

An abomination she kept telling herself.
A marital decadence.
He was asleep on the raffia mat. A bastard child of a dying man.
She took hold of the pestle and clobbered him.
She laid the child in a sack and hoisted it unto her head.
In the darkness, she made her way up the hill with a hoe.
A small grave she made and placed him there.
She cleaned the house by the flickering light of the lamp.
And in the light of dawn, neighbours followed the thin red trail of blood up the hill.
The blood told its tale.

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