Please enjoy a sneak peek at a sneaky peak: the first chapter from my latest novella, Mount Zambaynia, still a work in progress. It is an intriguing tale of magical realism set in the heart of Africa.
The story follows three teenage siblings who are fending for themselves and tending to the family farm in the foothills of Mount Zambaynia, while their parents are away.
After a month of torrential rain, the mountain reveals a secret hidden within: mystical creatures who claim to have been on earth long before man was created.
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MOUNT ZAMBAYNIA
By Stella Perrott
CHAPTER 1 : The Storm
It was the early morning hours when a guttural moaning woke us. As if the devil himself was writhing in agony. The earth trembled and groaned. It was terrifying.
‘Did you hear that?’ Issi gripped my hand tightly as we ran into Tendai’s bedroom.
‘I think the whole world heard it.’ Tendai’s usually calm demeanour sounded troubled. ‘It sounds like Mount Zubaynia is going to explode.’
I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. ‘Surely it can’t do that?’ A silly rhetorical question. But I said it anyway.
After a month of torrential rain, the mountain towering above our humble home was saturated. The three of us dived under Tendai’s bed and clung to each other. At least we would be together when it ended.
The silence that followed was eerie. Whatever it was seemed to have settled.
‘It’s stopped; we’re going to be okay.’ My words were meant to calm, but we weren’t convinced. No one moved.
A moment later, a mighty belch was followed by a thunderous roar. We covered our ears, hearts pounding in our chests as we trembled with fear. A feeling of helplessness overwhelmed us as we waited for certain death.
Mount Zubaynia erupted, triggering an avalanche. Mud, boulders, and fully grown trees tumbled downwards. The air was suffocating. Contaminated with crumbling rocks and debris.
‘Save us, Lord. God help us,’ Issi repeated over and over.
Our humble home of pole and dagga1 was no protection from a landslide. I’m not sure how long the rumbling lasted as I lost consciousness. When I came around, silence was the first thing that registered. It was daylight, and the sun’s rays were pouring in through the window, highlighting fragments floating in the air.
- Wooden poles and dagga mud – a blend of soil, clay, and animal dung ↩︎
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To be continued …
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
