The Diamond: Part Three

by | Mar 17, 2024 | Uncategorized | 1 comment

the banks of machinery were difficult to ignore.

This is a sequel to a two part story written four years ago, of which most of you are familiar. If not they’re here…

Bandile’s senses returned one by one, beginning with the aural faculty. It had to be so, as the concerto being played by the banks of machinery were difficult to ignore.

A note or two for the heart, a couple for the lungs and one more for something else, all performing in beautiful harmony. He  was alive. His constantly monitored heart sank. The bus had not done its job. What did one have to do to end it all these days? Surely walking into its path had a pretty good success rate?

Pretty good. What on earth did that mean? It wasn’t guaranteed? Your money back if not successful? Surely they realised the effort he’d put into those last steps?

Sense number two strolled in, and oh boy, what a sense. That which signals all of the physical sensations, was the family pooch turned Rottweiler. Its menace spread from head to toe, inundating Bandile’s brain with so much pain, it almost killed the latecomers. Nevertheless, it was kept on its leash by the PCA pump, which he squeezed to yank the chain of the giant hound.

Tagging along at the end of the guest list came the other three siblings. Those which craved attention.

Sight – a literal shadow of its former self. No definition, no colour.

Taste – smothered by the bitter coating on his thick, intrusive tongue.

Smell – a cocktail of disinfectant, human waste and boiled cabbage.

“Thanks bus. You couldn’t do one simple thing. Instead you turned my body into an exquisite jigsaw puzzle,” he mused.  

So, the family was reunited in consciousness. Perspective returned slowly to his vision, in the shape of Iminathi, his wife. She stood over the bed, tears making tracks on her ebony cheeks.

“Bandile, you’re alive! What happened? We thought we’d lost you,” she wailed, placing both hands on his arm. Fresh pain shot through the limb and he squeezed the trigger in his other hand. A warm glow replaced the agony enveloping it and all of his other senses. Iminathi faded with them.

The stricken pedestrian lay prone on the road. His shattered limbs arranged in a way that contradicted nature. One leg, bent forwards, lay across his lower body, the other, twisted underneath him. His huge arms drew strange shapes on the tarmac. The whole surreal image was set on a background of shiny red blood. The crowd grew by the second, all desperate to experience this macabre phenomenon in an orgy of rubber-necking.

The human screams and wails were slowly replaced by those of the ambulance. Reluctantly, the crowd parted to allow the paramedics access to the victim. They were joined by two policemen, who shoved the nosey onlookers away.

“What’s the matter? Haven’t you seen a dead body before?” One of the officers shouted.

“We can soon arrange a few more,” added the other, grabbing an old man by the throat and reaching for his baton.

“Unless you want the attention of these two kind gentlemen, we suggest you move on,” continued the first, nodding at the medics.

“I have a pulse, continue CPR and I’ll get a line in,” one of the paramedics barked at his companion. Just then, a young woman squeezed between the giant cops. She kneeled beside the shattered head of the prone man.

“Don’t worry, I have your package. They didn’t get it.” Her words sank into the quicksand of his trauma and were lost. The girl was grabbed by the collar and thrown into the dissipating crowd.

In Bandile’s next brief brush with consciousness, he was joined, not by his wife, but a familiar face. Some words resurfaced like long lost debris from a shipwreck.

“Package – don’t worry – didn’t get it.”

Through the melange of pain, analgesia and confusion, he made out something in her hands. The yellow rag, wrapped tightly around it. Terror tore through his other sensations as he recognised his Baby.

1 Comment

  1. Kenneth Childs

    Looking forward to Part Four.


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