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The Wrath of Death – story loosely based on the life of the late Ginimbi

By Rudo Muzondo

Clearing his throat, Ginimbi snuggled the cozy white pure Cashmere bed throw up to his chin. It graced his body contrasting perfectly with his dark matt skin. Afternoon naps were his routine from Friday to Sunday. He was a party animal, he loved being out there in clubs and public places sipping expensive champagnes showing off his flamboyant lifestyle. He loathed being alone, something inside his mind wouldn’t let him have the luxury of human necessary solitude. He owned a nightclub as one of his businesses to make money while catering for his nightlife.

Rudo Muzondo and the late Ginimbi
Rudo Muzondo and the late Ginimbi

An hour into his nap, a persistent buzz under his pillow, he furtively moved his hand upwards and reached for his cell phone. He didn’t want to completely shut the world out as he couldn’t live without it. He decided to put his cell phone on low buzzing mode instead of switching it off during his scheduled four-hour nap.

Four was his favourite number, most of the things he did or owned, he did in fours. He owned four mega businesses, he had four mansions in four counties, he owned four sports cars, four close friends, four girlfriends and four personalities though only one was distinct.

Many people didn’t understand how he managed to achieve all of that, they called it different names. Most believe he was a high-level Satanist who sold his soul for wealth. Some believe he was a streetwise white collar thief who benefited from corrupt government associates. A few believe he was a hard-working gifted hustler who was destined to succeed.

In business Ginimbi was savvy, he handled business just like how a double-jointed stripper handles a pole. He could sell water to a well and ice to an Eskimo. When others went for pieces of pies he went for the recipes, he didn’t want just a piece.

He was a natural genius! A serial hustler! He made his own pies and sold the recipes too! He had no academic background, the only certificate he owned was his misspelt birth certificate. He surmounted all odds and raised to the top where even the most educated looked up to him for business advice and bought his recipes. Ginimbi sold quacks to ducks!

When it comes to flamboyance, he was an unapologetic trailblazer with zero humility. Ginimbi was one of the most outlandish animated attention seekers in Africa, he was very peppy and full of life. He did it so well and that’s what made him known, attractive and admired by most.

In the middle of his nap, Gini woke up hysterically panting in cold sweat gulping hard for air. He sat on the edge of the bed wiping the remainders of his sleep off his eyes trying to decipher the meaning of the horrid vivid dream.

In the dream, he was surrounded by fire, horrifying screams, coffins and he saw himself in one of the coffins. A sudden pensive air of melancholy filled his bedroom and gripped his consciousness. His heart pounded faster, his insides cuddled, “damn it”, he whispered.

He locked eyes with the pure cashmere bed throw and it pitifully whispered, “don’t go Gini, stay with me tonight”.

His sixth sense somehow alerted him to say a little prayer but he purposely dismissed the dream as if it was nothing. No one and nothing could ever stop or convince Gini from skipping a party.

Dressed up for the people, he captured a few pictures and posted them on Instagram. His friends ready and waiting, he had a hard time deciding which car to drive and finally put his trust on the Rolls Royce Wraith. He loved the sense of security it gave him because of its world class safety features.

The crowd arrived in dozens and a sweet melody was drifting through the busy atmosphere creating an unforgettable ambience.

Ginimbi was always the last to arrive for attention, he craved attention like a stubborn diminutive demon. People cheered for him and took videos as he parked his Rolls Royce Wraith. His entourage that had been on standby waiting for his arrival escorted him in style and weaved him through the crowds bumping into champagne baring waiters.

The crowd roared at his presence as the music thrummed through their souls possessing every inch of their beings. He felt like he was some sort of ‘god’ as he waved majestically at the crowds. Bottom shelf low brand women positioned themselves like low hanging fruits and made sure to be noticed by ‘the god’ of ‘den of iniquity’.

The club was alive, breathing like a thirsty ancient dragon. Just like its name ‘Dreams’ it captured every dream and destiny in its proximity. The air was so thick with lights and smoke obliterating every sense of reason and discernment.

People could have been underwater without noticing it. The vibe was ecstatically mystical and rendered the crowd in a self-transcendence state. Bumping, grinding, twerking, fondling, sipping and puffing was the order of the night till the birth of dawn.

Inflicted by the spirit of immorality, men and women, married and unmarried who came alone left the ‘den of iniquity’ in pairs to satisfy their desires birthed by you all know who.
Jezebel.

For an after-party, Ginimbi left with three people, his friend, a video vixen whom he had been frivolously acquainting and her friend to square up the ledger. He had promised the video vixen flamboyant gifts and money for her birthday and for the love of material things, love of money, clout chasing and association she didn’t think twice.

Intoxicated by champagne, he went behind the wheel and they didn’t question. Perhaps they were equally intoxicated to reason. Without a seat belt on, he drove his Rolls Royce Wraith at high speed wraith-fully like an immortal savage beast who had many lives and didn’t care about losing one. They didn’t stop him, instead they cheered him up, praised him and giggled all the way euphorically. Trying to overtake two cars in front of him, it was too late and in a split second, he found himself head-on with another car and as he tried to swerve, he lost grip and hit a tree.

Everything happened in slow motion and immediately the alcohol vanished from his system. That moment was the most conscious, the most fearful, the most regretful and most alive he had ever been his whole life. The car interior suddenly changed into an archaic ghostly antique look and it was as airless as a tomb. For a split second, everything was so illusory and ethereal.

Screams behind him in the back seat, he couldn’t move either talk. The atmosphere was charged with a peculiar melancholy that he had never experienced before. Terrified, sombre, lethargic and confused he gulped hard for air. One tear broke free from the prison of his eye, lost its way into his mouth and he tasted the saltiness of his own fate. Suddenly a loud thought blazed his mind and he remembered his bed throw whispers, “don’t go Gini, stay with me tonight”.

Regretfully another tear escaped from the inner carvens of his other eye and solemnly paraded down his cheeks concealing his loudest screams. Immediately he remembered the horrid dream he had when he took his afternoon nap.

“It wasn’t just a dream, it was a warning and a vision, we are leaving in a moment”, his weeping soul whispered.

He couldn’t feel his body, death was inevitable. He knew it was the end of one world and the beginning of the other. What terrified him beyond comprehension was the unknown ahead of him. In that state, he heard voices of strangers and within seconds they were trying to rescue his friends who were still alive stuck in the car, but they failed at many attempts.

They only managed to pull Ginimbi out of the car and immediately as they put him on the ground, his distraught best friend who was driving behind arrived and kneeled next to Gini calling his name in confusion, shock, disbelief and deep hurt.
Upon hearing his voice, Ginimbi turned his head, locked eyes with his best friend and they were both confronted with great fear. Gini had so much to say to his best friend, so many questions, messages and instructions to give but his voice was trapped inside of his body, he couldn’t say a thing.

In that same instant, he realized that his car was in flames. The horrific screams of his friends who were still stuck in the car ripped his heart, rendered his body cold and paralyzed his soul. Overwhelmed by great anguish and helplessness his soul screamed in dire need of a magical heroine to rescue his friends. There was a deep gut wrenching cry in his heart and a deep-rooted yearning for another chance in his spirit.

The realms of the spirit beckoned at him, “fate sealed!”.
His soul wept.
It couldn’t be quelled.

At that moment he heard an eerie voice, “It is time to go”.

He managed to twitch his eyelids a little and right next to his best friend, was a skinny pale-looking figure dressed in a black-robed psychopomp, only he could see it.

In a haunting voice, “my name is Death Angel”, the pale gaunt cadaverous figure introduced itself proudly. In attempt to grasp at straws, Ginimbi desperately looked at his best friend for some saving but it was too late. He breathed his last.

Part 2

In that instance, Gini saw himself out of his body and he momentarily looked at it in awe. He made frantic attempts to go back but the death angel beckoned, “your soul can never go back to your body anymore, but you shall not wholly die, the greater part of you, your spirit man will continue the journey”.

Panic-stricken, Gini managed to utter a few words negotiating with the death angel trying to strike a business deal to go back to his body.

“My -ma my guy”, he stammered a little out of fear and desperation. “I can give you whatever amount of money you want, let’s negotiate, how much do you want in exchange for life so I can go back?”

The death angel laughed spitefully, “I know you were a savvy business man on earth but in this spirit world there are no deals, the currency is life and blood not money. I got you, I have what I want already”.

“Listen my guy”, Gini glanced across the death angel, he couldn’t stand looking at its abominable creepy figure. It had the blackest eyes he had ever seen, blank pale emotionless face.

“My guy, let’s make a deal, I will ….”

Before Gini could finish the sentence, he was rudely and cunningly interrupted by the death angel.

With a smirk on its face, “Oh little one, come with me, your earthly life is done. Forget the money, forget the lifestyle you had, forget everything. Your earthly life is done.”

Profound sadness crept in Gini’s soul. Somewhere in-between a sob and a scream, an avalanche of spiritual tears fell uncontrollably and unstoppably. He felt so incapable, he was pushed past endurance, his soul was immobilized with sadness and terror.

Dominated by profound fear, chaotic spilling hot tears flooded his face without pause, his soul was in anguish, and it couldn’t be comforted. He was desperate for someone to wake him up, to tell him it was a nightmare, to tell him it wasn’t real. He put his hands on his chest expecting his heart to be thumping but there was nothing there, not even a bit. Souls don’t carry hearts.

The death angel moved closer to him as if it wanted to comfort him and sardonically whispered into Gini’s ear, “Save your tears you poor soul, I will reap your sorrow slowly. I have enough time with you to discover the things that make you whimper”.

It raised its hand in a magical gesture and a huge ghastly gleam ancient Raven appeared and the death angel rode on its back and coldly muttered, “I will allow you to roam around till the day your earthly body gets buried. You will be amongst your people but no one will see you or hear you but you will see and hear everything. I will come to collect you to the new realm awaiting you”.

Satirically the death angel burped out a haunting laugh and shouted, “Adios my guy, your life my TV”.

Echoes of deafening cunning chuckles followed as it winked at him and venomously shouted, “I will be watching you!”

Adjusting its black psychopomp robe, it sardonically grinned and signaled the raven and they flew into the mystical mystics.

Distraught, weary and deflated, Gini’ looked at his lifeless body pityingly as it lay on the grass. He watched his best friend grieve in terror and deep hurt. He watched people coming in numbers taking pictures and videos of his lifeless body that was covered in blood, grass and soil.

He made many attempts to go back to his body but his soul whispered to the lifeless body, “ I can’t help you my former companion, I am a collateral damage to your earthly choices, we are separated now by the realms of the the spirit and it is impossible to go back to your body for we are in two different worlds now”.

Bewildered and terror stricken trying to figure out how to function with just his soul and his spirit without his physical body he went into a flow of coded and symbolic dialogue with his spirit.

His spirit bravely whispered to his soul, “don’t be afraid of your fears, have courage, my companion”.

His soul gently whispered back, “I wish to break free from that which prisons me, guide me, my spirit, help me focus on what I am supposed to do now not what I fear, lead me”.

The soul needed the wisdom of the spirit. It needed guidance in knowing that obeying the spirit brings liberation.

The dialogue was abruptly interrupted by sorrowful weeping and wailing a few meters away from him. It was the souls of his friends who also had gone through a similar experience with the death angel. They were all given time to roam around till their bodies were buried.

Traumatized, they wept together in terror and disbelief. They couldn’t believe that they were all dead just like that. They wept bitterly over what could have been if they hadn’t died. They spoke of their families, friends and the plans they had for the future.

With their emotions bare, naked and unshielded, their souls yearned for an intensified dire need for comfort, peace and rest. Embittered by death, their souls wept, wailed and grieved in unification unstoppably.

Their earthly memories were forever cursed with what could have and what would have if they hadn’t died.

Written by Rudo Muzondo (Author of ‘Storms of Vicissitudes’ available on Amazon)
Facebook: Rudo Muzondo
Instagram @rudomuzondo
http://rudomzostories.wordpress.com/

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