The Call

I kept on looking at the clock that was on the wall. Tik tok was the sound made by the hands. Would l

survive this? I had braced myself as l kept on recalling how the life everyone envied suddenly took a

drastic turn. I turned back to the clock as 15 minutes were left for it to strike 4pm which seemed like l

still had a chance.

Being born in a family of 6, l was the only one who survived while all the others were consumed by

death, including my mother. Hence my name Mpiloyezizwe Khumalo. I grew up the apple of my father's

eye and l always told myself l would excel, get married and live a happy life. I vividly recall the day l

graduated from UCT at only 18. I was the talk of our small village, Bayeza. Everyone would compare

their child to me and l stood the shining star.

I look at the clock once again and l feel like turning back the hands of time. Sweat dripped from my

forehead as if l had run a marathon, mind you, it was a cold and windy day. I got lost in my thoughts

until l heard a car being parked outside. Would l be able to do it? Fear gripped me so hard, l looked up

and spoke more to myself than these dull things called my ancestors, "Next time."

As the footsteps approached the door, l looked at the clock and it was exactly 4 pm. I heard the door

opening and my famous "Life" smile appeared.

"Welcome home Mdlongwa."

"Ngiyabonga ."

I took his bag and put it upstairs. Luckily, l had finished cooking about 30 minutes before and it was still

hot. I dished up for him and placed it on the dining table and summoned him.

I went back to the kitchen and as soon as l entered, l was met by the sight of a very good looking knife. I

took it from the sink and smiled at myself as l made my way to the living room.

"Next time," l had said