Mrs. Malhultze arrived just in time for Warda's pickup. At 13:15, she'd have to wait another ten minutes before Warda finally got to the car.
"Ugh, where is Warda? She knows to be here early." Mrs. Malhultze said to herself, sounding almost impatient and irritable.
Warda finally came rushing to the vehicle. She had been playing a game called Fair Lady. The chubby thirteen-year-old opened the door and got in.
"Hi Mom, sorry I'm late." She said this while gasping for breath. She went on and on, telling her mother stories about what had conspired during break time; her mother, on the other hand, was deep in thought. Somewhere between what the ménage would have for dinner that evening and funds to buy bread for school tomorrow Now that she was a single parent, she would have to worry more about daily necessities.
Finally, they got the big, rickety gate.
"We're home, Warda, Don't forget to wash your uniform and school socks. Polish your shoes, then do your homework."
"Okay, Mom! When does Warda come back home?"
"I'll pick her up this afternoon or early tomorrow morning. I've got to go zula (hustle for money or needs) or else you'll have no food for school tomorrow. There are mince and potato wedges in the pot. Have some. See you later."
"Eish! Momma was always on the move, I barely understood my English homework, and Deborah isn't here to help. what now? Hmm, I have an idea. I will just do it for the sake of doing it. When I show Mom tonight, she won't have enough time to see I haven't done it right or notice my spelling mistakes." Warda was convinced she'd come up with a plan, not knowing that, at the end of the day, it was only going to affect her grade.
Soon, it had become night. Mrs. Malhultze had still not returned home. The streets were quiet, then somewhere a dog barked. Warda moved closer to the window and slightly pulled the curtain to peep outside. She heard the voices of four men's rising and falling conversations near the corner where Tate sat during the day. (Tate- a local man or young man who acts as a vendor selling sweets, fruits, biscuits, chips, vegetables, and airtime)
They drank and laughed as they schemed which houses they'd break into at midnight. They targeted the house based on which house reflected a laptop or flat screen monitor playing sitcoms through the windows. Conversations got louder here, laughter there. A woman came walking in the opposite direction; the four men heard the 'click and clack' from her high heels along the way."Shhhh," They said to one another. Seeming smooth and purposeful, poor and god-forsaken yet daring and bold. When the woman reached the corner, they jumped her. He pressed his palms against her throat. The unfamiliar voice screamed silently as she gulped and gasped for breath. The other two proceeded to take off her Ports 1961 heels, and another slid a knife open near her throat.
"Shhhh shh shh. Beautiful relaxation, Wena! If you scream, we will hurt you. Take it easy, baby. He sounded so infamous yet so competent; he had to be the group's leader. Warda drew the curtain closed after having seen enough. How would she defend herself if they came after her after spotting her? They all ran into the riverbed as the fourth man grabbed her handbag.
The woman was defenseless as she sat there. Mrs. Malhultze abruptly showed up again with lentil soup, braai meat, and roaster bread for the family. She saw the strange woman as she entered and approached her.
YOU ARE READING
Mangled Shoes
General FictionMangled shoes is a mainstream fictional book. Choices, Chances, Changes. ✨😊