/0/45241/coverbig.jpg?v=90113a6db213707202994b91c035de57&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Rivalry from the Womb: Stumbling on a Monarchy for grabs
Author: Humphrey Chilingulo Genre: FantasyA Rivalry from the Womb: Stumbling on a Monarchy for grabs
cabulary that would provide appropriate description of how deeply his lack of affection for the daring rodents, ran. Even without seeing a single member of their kind
ged packets of food stuffs and his treasured possessions such as pieces of clothes among others, guaranteed an immediate declaration of war, with every killing eliciting a celebratory dance of
him perhaps thinking he was some kind of tree or such other moving object in which they could hide, hence, doing everything possible to decimate their population once he moved into a new house. Of course, running a little scared once in a while once they came too close for comfort
ng up with the stinking dead and not knowing the exact spot of the little carcass thus embarking on a full hunting exercise, turning the whole kitchen upside down- they usually liked his fully
ew bottles they had downed that far, and true to his word, Tito, having gone on to do exactly the same, never regretted one bit, well until he met his match. There was this one particularly stubborn "biggie" remaining, whom at fir
yes pooping out as they clearly breathed their last. But now, despite the traps snapping off all the same, he could only find the food gone but no rat, let alone a dead one, in sight. On few occasions, he managed to see the thieving culprit showing him his clean fours into the unreachable spots, leaving him, at first infuriated, then later frustrated and much later dumbfounded, until eve
e would easily scrape off the hardened crumbs later, but come the following morning, they were gone! He set up traps around, the now deliberately crushed crumbs of Mchimwene's favorite but to no avail. More other methods yielded similar embarrassing results for him. Then he decided to fill up a pot with water and put a thin black plastic sheet on top before sprinkling some food crumbs there, t
r. Incredibly, as if he had heard him and was testing his integrity in keeping his word, Mchimwene started to roam almost freely in the kitchen. When Tito entered the kitchen quietly, he could
enough for his daring feats. "Feel at home, my home mate." And to show him he meant his
ounds stopped, and despite staying there waiting for the sound to start again so he would identify the source, nothing happened until he doubted himself if he was not imagining things, only for the sound to start again the moment he left until it stopped on its own. On this one he was very sure it was not his food-loving buddy because the room never hosted anything pertaining to his beloved tidbits, with the door always remaining tightly shut, and he was doubly sure nobody else went there anytime even in his absence. He lived alone and kept th
much more. Dead in the silent night, a much more loud sound of not only glasses but of whipping, splashing and hissing, as if there were other inhabitants in the house who were wrestling or fighting, reached him from the room's direction, sending an electric surge cruising through his veins making the fine hair on the nape of his
until it became an eerie symphony of metallic echo
he safe-box but a new round of bashing, slapping and whipping noise against all manner of objects thus producing a cacophony of a confused sounds was accompanied by falling things which instantly jerked him
s in every way imaginable having grown so big in size including the head and mouth that the whole snake's neck which instantly reminded him of the one from the car incident, was firmly sunk in his sharp teeth and jaw, threatening to separate the head from the rest of the writhing body. Tito couldn't think of his next move immediately. Instinct refused to play ball. Dumb-founded, while at the same time feeling too bad for what he had tried to do to Mchimwene during those numerous failed
s disappeared to, Tito burnt the snake to ashes on the red-hot cooker coil before sprinkling them into the sink then washing them thoroughly down the drain with a whole river of water. Since that day, the strange sounds disappeared for good. But so did his beloved Mchimwene, sadly. Tito had tried to entice him from his hi
and might have during the fight, sunk its cursed fangs into him at some point thus injecting him with its deadly ve