adminShort story by Philip Murodzwa
Our target stood behind two steel gates creeping with epiphytes, against a full moon which silhouetted its ‘‘spooky’’ view. I could have sworn a witch zoomed across the moon on a tattered broomstick but knew my eyes were playing tricks. Within several minutes we had climbed over the mansion gate and our feet had let us down a winding tunnel through a faulty trap door.
We suddenly shouted as we split ways, cascading in branching directions.
A heap of skeletons in a room lit by a green lantern! Who knew what more ‘‘booby’’ traps awaited this latest investigation? Would we die before revealing Kenny’s murderer?
I was on a quest and would not be sent scurrying by some horror-movie special effects. I walked towards a narrow passage with a jet-pack strapped on my back.
Feeling like Sherlock Holmes, as ‘‘butterflies’’ patrolled the depths of my stomach, it seemed as if the portraits in this old passage were eyeing me. One more step and an axe came slashing down onto the floor just ahead of my toes.
A volley of arrows whooshed past. If this was someone’s idea of a scare trick, they were doing very well considering somersaults in my belly. I was astonished by the rattle of metal driving the breath out of my lungs.
A suit of armour was launching an attack with a huge spear in its palms.
Grabbing a laser shotgun; l blazed the empty armour shell into molten residue.
I found myself in what I guessed to be a library, considering the shelves and lamps. I touched the mantle over the fireplace and it swung 180 degrees. I had just triggered some pulley system catapulting myself into a secret chamber.
The fresh smell of blood choked me as my eyes took in the ancient torture equipment covering every inch of the room. lf one had not known better one could have thought it a hallucination of a Transylvanian classic. Machetes and swords were in every corner. l realised a nest of tarantulas was creeping upon me and threw the devils off my trousers.
l raced out of the chamber to discover a series of incomplete staircases. A melody from some unknown opera invited my descent into the hall below. I found myself in a corridor unable to locate were it was coming from.
Then I heard sounds from the one room and peeped inside to see a very bloody Rashid. Large men were bashing his jaws. It looked like they were try to torture him into revealing who else had broken into the compound with him. A click petrified me at that spot as a gun barrel piercing my ribs forced me into the room.
“You mongrels aren’t getting away,” said Rashid. I was now tied up in a similar wooden chair next to his
“And what’s going to stop us Pinocchio?” the masked villain laughed out. The rest of his clan joined chattering like a group of monkeys.
“In fifteen minutes, l will be off to Switzerland to reunite with the mafia. Someone will want to buy this,” he said pulling out the diamond.
“In minutes you will die horribly.”
One of the muscled buffoons had been busy setting up a bomb. The party retreated with several briefcases of cocaine. They had killed Kenny and were about to murder Rashid and me.
Rashid pulled out a blade cut himself loose and in a jiffy set us free .We raced across a ballroom towards the mansion’s wide window as flames of fire danced after us .
The bang set us crashing against the glass and into an uncalculated dive. I was sure that I would soon be dead when my body hit the hard ground so many meters below. I closed my eyes and tensed instinctively holding my breath.
When the impact came, l realized was not getting smashed up, but drowning. l could feel the cold sensation of freezing water all over my body. We had fortunately dived into a swimming pool.
This is an excerpt of a novel entitled Murodza Detective Mystery Journals by Philip Murodzwa. TEENS ONLY wishing to have their creative fiction and non-fiction- including poetry, published, please send your submissions to [email protected] or bring the hard copy to Herald House
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