Knocked Out!

Nancy had just walked in through the door after a long day of work, extremely exhausted when she heard an unusual sound. She froze; then dismissed it. Her neigbour always watched unusual stuff really loud anyway. She plunked herself on the couch and zoned out for a few minutes. It had been a thoroughly long day.

Nancy had recently been promoted, and she never anticipated the work load. Her feet were sore. She put them up on the fluffy pooff near by and leaned back, exhaled and shut her eyes and she fell into a deep slumber. After what seemed like 15 minutes Nancy was startled awake by the weird deep reverberating grunts like a wild animal purring. She looked around and panicked.

Where was her couch? Why was she on grass? Was she dreaming? She slapped herself several times, the last being the hardest, she yelped, she wasn’t dreaming then how in the world did she get there? She heard the sound again. And she felt something hot stream down her leg, she lost control of her bowels. She looked around; it was a moonlit night everything seemed clear as day where she was. She turned around and saw thick foliage, a forest.  Nancy got goosebumps all over her body. Was she here to die, was she bait? She gasped in readiness to scream and just as she was about to let out a gut wrenching scream a huge rough palm smelling of dung covered her mouth. She screamed, and bit the hand.

A deep husky voice yelped. Nancy began to flail her hands around like turbines in full action directing the motion at her assailant. She had no idea what she was doing, but it worked, she was repelling the beast. Nancy started spitting, the smell of the dung from his hand began to nauseate her. It smelled dreadful.

“Stop it Nancy?”

Nancy screamed and shook her had like she was possessed, fighting what she had heard, how in the world would he know here name? Where was she? Why was this happening to her?

“Why? Leave me alone! I want to go home!!!”

Nancy stop flailing her hands and fell to ground rolling around kicking and screaming like a child throwing a tantrum, she felt like she was going insane. The smelly hands returned, she kicked hard, and by the groan from the unusual being, Nancy had struck the “family jewels”.

“What is wrong with you?” The voice demanded.

“What is wrong with you?” Nancy retorted.

“Nancy? Nancy?” The voice sounded hollow and distant. Nancy steadily opened her eyes again. It was her boyfriend Amos clasping his groin. “What is wrong with you? Why did you do that?”

Nancy jolted on the couch, looked around her and touched herself and her surrounding making sure she was in the living room.

“Where am I?” Nancy demanded.

“At our apartment?!” Amos retorted gritting his teeth and rolling his eyes; baffled and annoyed by Nancy’s over reaction.

“What time is it?” Nancy demanded

“It’s 7am, Nancy! You’re late for work.” Amos barked as he inched on to the couch to nurse his injury.



It was a beautiful night; the moon was bold and stunning. Its reflection shimmered over the calm river. The air was soft, slowly swaying leaves on trees, made a harmonious sound with the crickets in the marsh in the distance. The occasional moments of silence, not even a mosquito stirring could be heard. Bliss. Oh! Bliss.

Terry lay on his back looking at the skies with a grin on his face. At last he had what he had been seeking, peace. Terry sighed and closed his eyes. The swaying of his hammock let out a creaking sound on the tree branch. Terry wasn’t bothered. He was at peace after several months of non stop fights and failure. Tonight swaying in his hammock alive and undisturbed was all that mattered.

There was a crackle and snapping sound, Terry peered over the edge of his hammock and steadily slid down to add some more logs into the flames of his campfire. He took a few steps to the lake shore and with his toes gently kissed the surface of the water. He then saw some movement and quickly stepped back. He walked back to the fire and warmed his now cold toes. He steadily eased into his deck chair that was right by the fire. Terry let out a sigh of relief and placed his hand on his heart and muttered something and smiled.

There was a loud sound, a huge wash of displaced water from the river. Terry didn’t hear the sound, and went about enjoying the warmth of the flame as the temperature began to steadily drop. The waters stirred once again, this time Terry turned a bit startled, but he saw nothing. He walked to his tent for his blanket and some boiled maize he had in his bag. He sat by the camp fire wrapped in his blanket and leaned in toward the flame roasting his maize cob, occasionally turning it to even out the roast.

Terry’s mouth watered he couldn’t wait to finally stuff his face. He turned once again to look into the beautiful glistening waters behind him. Just as he pulled out his hot cob, the gushing sound of water returned this time more forceful than before and without any warning Terry was tossed to the ground. He didn’t know what hit him, but it was like a bullet, it pierced his torso and thrust him to the ground. Terry groaned in pain feeling his torso. He raised his wet palm bloddied from the wound he had sustained. His breathing increased rapidly and he began to sweat. He was scared, was it going to come back. He turned to the direction of his tent. He saw something slither in. He felt heat on his thighs. He peed on himself. Terry was alone, it was dark and there was no civilization for kilometers. He wasn’t sure how long he would last. His eyes were fixed on the burning logs of wood.



Mogaka the plumber knocked on the door waiting as he looked around. Fancy neighbourhood this time; he was accustomed to unblocking overflown communal toilets in his neighbourhood. A place where people would still try to negotiate on price despite the shitty work, quite literally, that he was left to do and clean up afterward. The hot poo occasionally scalded Mogaka, leaving the skin on the back of his hands scaly and burned.

Ding! Dong! Mogaka rung the bell again, someone pulled the curtain and peeped out with one eye. “Muuuuuuum! He’s here!” a little voice yelled. Mogaka looked around him again, as if he was running away from something. He was just finding it unusual to get a phone call for his services in Suburbia. Mogaka’s funky ‘fro and side burns made him even more conspicuous in that neighbourhood. His blue over sized bell bottom overall made him look like he was stuck in a time warp, all he needed were platforms. He wore boots instead; “you never know what flows out of the abundance of drainage”, was the slogan written on his overall.

The door lock turned and as the door opened a flowery scent escaped and gushed into his face. Mogaka smiled sheepishly. “Mogaka thank you for coming,” a stunning Amazonic woman uttered. She stood at about 6’5” towering over Mogaka. Mogaka’s smile was shattered with shock written all over his face when he laid eyes on the woman. “What is this?” He said.

Her hair was cropped and neat, natural in fine curls, her square face was made up, she looked like she was pulled out of a photo shoot. Her blouse was buttoned up but sleeveless showing off her ‘canons’ for arms. Her pencil skirt cupped her curves just right. Her calves, stunning firm, toned and her toes manicured yet eerily hideous. They looked like a witches; bony and crooked.

“Did you say something Mogaka?” Mogaka sheepishly shook his head to deny any utterances. “No wonder she called me,” Mogaka thought to himself. He couldn’t believe this woman. “Does a woman like that even have a husband?” Mogaka’s mind wondered with a lot of questions not paying attention at all to the brief that he was receiving from the woman who had just let him into her home.

“Mum!” That familiar voice from the front door emerged from a little girl about 5 years old. Her hair was as long as Rapunzel’s; jet black and kinky and held in two puffy pig tails shoulder length. Her inquisitive eyes fixated on Mogaka’s fancy tool belt. She cracked a smile to reveal missing teeth. She reached out for a pair of pliers, “Mum can I use this to remove my other tooth?” Mogaka quickly pressed his pliers closer to himself. He wasn’t sure slapping a Suburban child’s hand would be ideal; especially if Mum was King Kong.

“Akinyi! No leave that kind man’s belt alone! Come here, have your breakfast.” The lady uttered. “I am so sorry Mogaka I haven’t even introduced myself, my name is Angel. This is my daughter Akinyi, welcome to our home. Can I offer you some breakfast before you start work?”

Mogaka was dumbfounded he was just staring at Angel. “Mogaka?”

“Yes, yes, madam! Yes.” He had no idea what he was saying yes to. “Please have a seat at the counter.” Akinyi was staring at him as she shoveled cereal into her mouth. Mogaka was stunned by the kind of paintings he saw on the wall. Images of death, and more curiously men being put to death by women; one was crucified upside down, one was decapitated by guillotine, another was castrated. The images were gory. And neither mother nor daughter saw anything wrong with that.

“Here we are…enjoy!” Mogaka was nervous and wasn’t quite sure whether that was art or an omen. He chugged down his tea, in the process burning his throat, causing him to tear. “Nianze wapi madam?” That was the first thing he had said aloud.

“Down the hall way to the left,” Angel directed.

Mogaka’s stomach was turning, he wasn’t sure if he had been poisoned or he was just being paranoid. He wasn’t going to take his chances. His 5’6” frame needed to be protected. He grabbed hard on to his tool belt, anything could happen, he needed to be ready.

Finally got to the door and he could hear a swarm of flies feasting. He flung the door open, it was baffling. It was pristine. He flushed the toilet and it was fine. He pulled the shower curtain and run the shower, the drainage seemed fine. Where was the sound of flies coming from? And what was going on here?

Mogaka turned and looked behind him, he jumped and screamed, out of nowhere, there hung a half dead man with maggots oozing out of his eyes and mouth, his clothes unusually clean, like they had been changed. Mogaka ran to the door to get out, he shoved the lifeless hand to the side and attempted to open the door, it was locked. Mogaka screamed.


Unnecessary Sympathy

Makena’s head was craned back, eyes closed as she soaked in the day’s sunlight, her feet submerged under the steady stream of water flowing through her little garden. She was in paradise. Her nose pointed straight up to the sky; palms pressed behind her on the deck chair, she sat on, made her look graceful and ready to lift off and disappear from the world around her.

Makena’s moment of Zen was disrupted when she was tapped by an elderly lady, called Susana. Susana walked from village to village with a basket full of ripe and juicy mangoes. Makena didn’t feel like buying any, she politely declined and continued basking.

As Makena closed her eyes once again and pointed her head to the sky she felt a slight prick followed by drowsiness that she couldn’t fight, she was out.When she awoke, she was in motion on her back. The noon day sun was now scorching her face. She was on a stretcher of some sort on something, it wasn’t a car or a van, its movement was unusual. She used her hands to feel around, her hands were bound to the stretcher but she felt tough animal fur. And the stretcher became very wobbly when she struggled to break free.

“It must be an animal”, Makena thought to herself.

After an hour or so, it came to a stand still and she felt herself being unfastened, she closed her eyes and mouth tight to prevent herself from screaming. She was whisked down and thrust on to a shoulder. She didn’t want whoever these people were, to know that she was awake. Makena wanted to see where they were going to take her and listen in on what plans they had for her.

A scrawny man pointed north of where they were, there was nothing but shrub land. And the muscular bulwark who carried Makena began to jog steadily toward an unknown destination. Makena’s tummy began to churn. It started off with a bit of flatulence that had the man cough, and soon she began to throw up. Thud! The man dropped her to the ground after a few kilometres.

“Lady, I don’t know what ails you, but I can’t believe that a woman as beautiful as you could be so rotten on the inside. We’ll have to wait here for a while. I need to recover from the stench.” The man bent over, hands on knees and himself began to throw up.

This was Makena’s chance to escape, but instead she stared at the man in agony. She felt sorry for her captor. What was it about him that kept her there?


Scarlet Baptism

He heaved one last time, and moaned in pleasure, sweat drenched torso, and he slapped my breasts one last time. He pulled up his trousers and I heard him zip up. I held my mouth shut with my hand, grabbed what was left of my torn clothes and covered myself. I cowered into a feotal position. Tears streamed down my face.

I felt a sharp pain on my head and a loud snap, I screamed in agony, I felt where the pain had emerged from, my braids were gone, it was a bloody open wound, he laughed. He laughed uncontrollably. What was the joke? He had got what he wanted, why cause me more pain. I squirmed to the edge of the bed and fell to the ground. I moaned in pain.

“You liked that too?” he laughed, I heard a belt buckle. I froze, was he going to do it again? I was so tired, I was sore, I hated him, I hated myself, I needed a shower, a cleanse, bleach or even burn my entire body to rid myself of the shame, disgust.

I felt footsteps move from his side of the bed to mine, I couldn’t look up, I didn’t want to see it coming, couldn’t. The sharp pain on my head returned, I was moving? I felt cold move up and down my body, cold sweats dropping from my brow leaving a trail on the floor behind me. Where was I going now? Why? What did I do to deserve this?

I strong waft of liquor engulfed my face, stinging, burning, screaming at the top of my lungs. He was singeing my scalp with the liquor, the wounds, the pain, escalating, I felt dizzy, and then everything went dark. I felt some relief, I didn’t fight it. In the darkness I screamed, I clawed my way around. A scream, the darkness fades in to light, I look up, I see scarlet red, streaming down a bumpy chocolate countenance. The eyes bulged out of their sockets, mouth foaming, the nails, the hands familiar. I cringed, I felt pain, I felt wet, I could smell blood.

I panicked arose and inspected myself, my tattered frock was now soaked in crimson; it smelt of defecation, sewerage and raw eggs. I squirmed on the floor and rolled myself to the bathroom. I tugged at the door, it was locked, no answer, I went further squirming as I made my way to the hallway, a swarm of flies buzzed by. A woman was in a heap in the corridor. Was she asleep? She smelt of flatulence. She was cold, she was deaf, and she was stiff. There was blood oozing out of this woman’s ears and mouth.

I held my mouth with my bloody hand, where was I to go next? I got to the kitchen and there in his own blood my son sat upright against the cabinets nursing a knife in his chest, he was shivering and whispered. “Mum”, “Mum”, “Mum” The voice got fainter and fainter and in 5 minutes the boy was no more.

I wailed and fell face first it to his mighty arms. Where was everyone, would help never come?


Karma the Hulk

Naliaka fanned herself violently, her face cringed and she pursed her lips ready to spit, her eyes were red with rage.

“Come on! AMUNGAAAA!!”

Amunga looked up and giggled as he used his hand to fan air from his behind to Naliaka’s direction. It was the same routine every morning; Naliaka would be awoken by the stench of her brothers flatulence. Amunga burst out laughing and left his sister’s room.

“MuUUUUUUUUM!” She yelled out as the door slammed shut. Amunga ran down the stairs with a huge smile on his face, mission accomplished. The daily morning quota to annoy his kid sister was achieved.

Dad was on the couch reading the day’s newspaper; mum was laying the breakfast table.

“Why do you do that to your sister Amunga?” Mum asked. He shrugged his shoulders, and winked at his mother as he reached for some freshly made mahamri. “Have you washed your hands?” Mum inquired as she smacked his hands from taking a helping.

Amunga glanced at his mother cheekily; he had managed to sneak two mahamri away and was wolfing them down as he walked to his father.

“Morning dad!” The two fist bumped, mum rolled her eyes.

“Can the two of you wash your hands please, breakfast is ready.” Mum said as she walked toward the staircase, “Naliaka, hurry up.” Then she heard a thud. “Naliaka?” Then another thud and a violent tear.

“John?” Mum called out to dad, “I think there’s something going on upstairs could you check on Naliaka please?” He turned nodded his head and then nudged Amunga, “let’s go check on your sister.”

Mum stopped them, “Uh! No, Amunga stays here; you have already done enough damage to your sister. STAY. HERE!”

Amunga shrugged his shoulders and dived to the kitchen table.

“HANDS!” Mum called out to Amunga.

Amunga headed straight for the kitchen sink as he scratched himself. Mum just rolled her eyes knowingly, it was like seeing her husband 40 years younger, her son was annoyingly charming like John.

The thuds got really frequent as dad walked up the stairs. Much louder with each hit and they could feel a cool morning draught in the corridor. What was going on? Dad knocked on the door.

“Naliaka? It’s dad and mum can we come in?” Silence.

“Honey, Amunga is downstairs…”

Then a violent thud and Naliaka emerged through the wall. Mum screamed and clenched on to one of the banisters. Dad fell to the ground in a shocked mound next to mum.

“I WANT AMUNGA!’ The hideous voiced bellowed in the house. It, she, whatever Naliaka had become looked like a fusion between a wet gremlin and that homicidal plant in Little Shop of Horrors, the movie.Needless to say, Amunga pissed his pants and screamed like a wounded animal.

The real terror had just began and Amunga was about to get a taste of his own medicine.


The Feast

It was electric at the stadium, crowds swelled and oozed over the walls. “You only live once; no one’s got the right to make me choose what I don’t want to do. IT’S. MY. LIIIIFE!” The crowd roared and went wild. Thousands upon thousands from across the city had gone in to see Rabid. The band wasn’t one to disappoint. They had just launched a new album, Venom and that was the talk of the city. It was estimated that the 6 million youth would be swarming in to see their favourite band. Tickets were sold out 3 months prior.

This morning the stadium was so packed the air above it was thick, stinking of heavy perspiration with gratitude to the December heat. Brows polka dotted with sweat, eyes squinting to see from the distance, saliva playing target practice as people spat out the lyrics of each song. Others tried to gyrate in the small foot space they had. The security team had ferried 1,000 fainters and counting within the first two hours of the event. When it came to Venom, no curtain raisers were allowed. It was 5 hours straight of hits back to back.

In the distance a scuffle had began, and died, initially it was caused by the fainters. One man who was seated on his friend’s shoulders waving frantically had seen the slight mêlée. It looked like someone had knocked over the first domino to set off a chain reaction. But a pre-emptive move by those closer to the wave’s centre killed the potential mess.

“Kevo! Kevo! Ebu cheki! Cheki!” Maish called out excited and impatiently.

“Ni cheki nini – we ndo uko place poa kuona, nita wika na huku down.” Kevo bobbed his head as he spoke. “Down! Kwish.. Kwish-A!” Kevo sang along out loud in sync with the band.

The two continued to scream, make whooping sounds and yell in jubilation. That was the best 500 bob the two of them had spent. Swaleh who wasn’t as short as Maish had ‘offered’ to stand by Kevo’s side and let Maish experience, “life ya wasee soo!” Swaleh always rubbed it in Maish’s face that he was pretty short. Maish was 5’ 4” Swaleh and Kevo were 6 ft. But despite being high above most of the crowd, the heat and stuffiness was beginning to get to affect him. Swaleh had ignored Kevo’s offer of water earlier giving a stupid supposed macho remark. “Maji? Niya wadhi kama wewe. Water for the weak; I am VENOM!” He yelled Venom repeatedly. Now the only venom that was apparent to him was the acidity building in his own tummy that needed a cooler.

The water was over and done with and with the swarming crowds there wasn’t anywhere to buy some. He was stuck. Swaleh tried singing along some more with his boys. But 15 minutes in again he couldn’t do it. There was an attempt at the Mexican wave in the stadium. It made things worse for Swaleh. The person next to him seemed to have missed his shower hour for a month because whatever emerged from his raised arms was about to clear the stadium. Swaleh coughed so hard, he fell on other fans who shoved him away.

Swaleh was getting worse; more flushed. About three and a half hours in Swaleh wasn’t going to make it any longer, but just before he passed out. He felt something wet sprinkle on him. It was cooling and relieving but it was unusually sticky. He flipped his head backward, he thought it was a little drizzle. The sprinkle felt more consistent with a paint splatter on the wall. He opened his eyes and looked at his hand, it was red. He rubbed his index finger and thumb together to feel the texture; sticky. He smelt it, and shook his head. He looked around, crowds were still cheering.

Venom was playing electrically, locks flung in the air like Juliani’s. But as he turned to look, there was a steady pile up of seizing bodies. Blood was spraying from severed arteries. Swaleh, tapped Kevo’s shoulders. Kevo shrugged him off and shook his shoulders in dance to the music.

“Maish! Maish! Pinduka! Cheki!” Swale yelled, Maish showed him the one finger salute and began to yell along to the lyrics. Swaleh was now sweating profusely and shaking. Whatever was killing people was moving fast. There was no sound or sight of anything. Any direction Swaleh looked, once he looked at it twice to verify that everything was normal, a third turn the group was dead. He couldn’t afford to look at his friends.

Then all of a sudden there was a crash and the band began to bleed through their eyes. The crowd went wild, “Manze special effects za Venom ni noma jo!” Maish cheered, amazing props and make up is what they thought. Then the band fell one by one like a domino game and began to seize on stage. Their eyes then popped out of their sockets violently looking like golf balls in the air.

Then screaming and a stampede ensued; every man for himself. Swaleh grabbed Kevo by the t-shirt, and yanked him backward. The jolt and the stampeding crowd caused Kevo and Maish to topple over. There was a woman on the ground screaming and pummeling in the air. Then out of nowhere they saw her neck being sliced open and blood gushing out. The woman drenched everyone around her.

The trio was now on the ground, people began to climb over them, blood curdling screams filled the stadium. People flew in mid air and landed on each other. Those Swaleh had seen seizing earlier vanished. There was no sign of where they went or what was killing people. Kevo suddenly began to scream hysterically, kick violently and repeatedly and inch away from something. Swaleh yelled out at him, he was sandwiched between people and couldn’t escape. Kevo reached a hand out, but it was too late; blood splattered.