Through Rose Coloured Glasses

By Russel Ngobeni

The thriller short stories are not only captivating, but addictive. If you are travelling, take Through Rose Coloured Glasses with to refresh your mind. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Russel Ngobeni
• Release date: Dec 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215964354

Book preview

Dedication

My grandmother Tsatsawani Ngobeni for teaching me how to tell stories.

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Foreword

Thank you for picking this title. This is my baptism in storytelling through the English language

Jason Fisher, thank you for proofing my book free of charge. Angels are not only in heaven.

Mzwakhe Mbuli, we never met but all the fan letters you sent me nurtured the seed of creativity in me. You are my hero People’s poet.

My grandmother, nighttime was education time through stories. Your flawless art of dramatizing stories left an indelible mark in my heart. I am continuing with your legacy grandma and this time; I tell stories to the whole world. Thank you Ntombi ya mugwena!!

Russel Ngobeni  (2009)

Contents

1. Law in my hands        

2. Through rose-coloured glasses. Part 1     

3. Through rose-coloured glasses. Part 2     

4. Diamonds in the ceiling      

5. The letter     

6. The soldier style        

7. Should have ...        

8. Not again         

9. It was meant to be        

10. Another sad story        

1.  Law in my hands

It did not dawn on me when I heard the knock on the door. At that time, I was sipping my favourite soup and watching a comedy on TV. I cursed under my breath. It was already late. Twenty hundred hours is really a wrong time to visit, let alone knocking on someone ‘s door to have a chat or whatever. I took my time to get to the door. But the more time I wasted, the more agitated the knocker sounded – through his or her knock. I didn’t care – if the knocker had a stroke or heart attack I wouldn’t mind if it killed him or her. That was my place, and I had a right to do as I pleased. Even opening the door for whoever was knocking at that time of the night was a favour.

I opened the door slowly and peeped through the little space. It was dark outside. The only thing I could see was a white thing on the floor. At around the same time, I heard footfalls moving away. I quickly opened the door to see who it was that had left a white paper or whatever on my doorstep. I did not look at it, because I wanted to catch up with the messenger of darkness. Who are you? I shouted. But the shadow just walked away. I ran after it, and it also ran. Damn it. I turned my heels and walked slowly back to my flat, reading every step I took. Fear embraced me. I picked the white thing up. It was an envelope.

For some time, I stood in the darkness wondering what the envelope might have brought – I mean whatever was in the envelope, would not be good for me. I am a man that has always lived according to the best principles of life, so I thought. I walked back inside. Taking my time to close the door. The adrenalin levels had increased, and I loved it, for the sake of my body. I opened the envelope. Ripping it off like I did not care. Then four photographs and a CD fell. I was flabbergasted and yet it still did not make any sense to me. I am not a photographer and I do not deal with CDs. Inside the envelope was also a note: WATCH THE CD AND LOOK AT THE PHOTOS. I WILL CALL YOU IN 24 HOURS. LOVE. For some time I thought I was dreaming. I looked at the note for a long time. The sound of the TV was now at a distance. All I could hear was the dud-dub of my heart.

I bent down to pick up the photos and the CD. Honey are you sleeping? my wife shouted from the bathroom. I quickly put the CD and the photos under the couch without looking at them. I cleared my throat. No, I am not baby doll. I miss you, I said. My voice was husky. I also noticed that I was trembling. I could not keep my hand steady. Come back to papa, I chuckled – but it did not need a rocket scientist to hear that it was not from the heart. Are you okay? she asked. And I heard her footfalls coming to the sitting room. Oh no, that woman was beautiful. I mean to me.

She had a towel around which only covered her essential assets, but the ones that she knew I like feasting my eyes on were laid bare. Wow! So, you want to give me ideas, I chuckled.

Oh yes. Are you getting them now? she asked and giggled.

Why not? I stood up and held her in my arms. The smell on her skin was good.

What is wrong honey dove? she asked and pulled away from me.

Nothing, I said looking away.

Who was knocking? she asked.

The caretaker, I responded.

No, there is something you are not telling me. I felt your embrace. It had pain, she said.

"There’s nothing really. You know what; I would never hide anything from you.

You and I are one now," I said, but guilt was already eating me. I could never get to a point of telling her about the envelope and the contents; I had to know about that myself first. We frolicked like we always did. For some time, I forgot the troubles and tribulations of this world.

Okay, Okay. I know I was supposed to have introduced myself. My name is Hosi Nkobane. I am thirty-six years old. I was married to a wonderful lady that we have a baby son together. Her name was Hlamalane. We were not living with our child because of the hectic schedules in our jobs. My wife and I were partners in a printing business which was in the heart of Johannesburg. We did not have a house of our own. That is why we were renting a flat at the corner of Rissik and Jeppe Streets, Johannesburg. We were both from Ka-Mankena, Limpopo Province but we met here in Johannesburg when we were doing a course on Customer service. We got married a year after our first meeting.

We were happy to be married. It is also interesting to note that, we never talked about our past. You know, like how long I had been in Johannesburg, when did I leave home and other stuff that two strangers ask each other to get acquainted. Of course, I had been in Johannesburg much longer than her. I left home in 1998. She must have been fourteen years old, because now she was twenty-four years old. But fate had a way to bring us together even though we were from the same village with no knowledge of each other. Hlamalane was a blessing.

Before I settled down and concentrated on business, first selling office stationery, I was just a man who lived every day as it came. I have also done some bad things in my life, but they were now in the past. I was married, blessed with a handsome little boy and our business was beginning to take off. I was a happy man. Was there anything to worry about? I guess not!

Back to the present. Hlamalane made us supper and we ate quietly. She did not ask questions, and then we went to bed. My heart was racing fast. Curiosity was really killing me. I wanted to know what was in the CD and look at the photos. I tossed and turned. Hosi are you o’ right? she asked.

Oh, yes I am okay baby, I said and kissed her on the forehead. In the darkness of the room, I saw her white teeth when she grinned.

Mhm ... she said.

You are beautiful, and I love you Hlamalane. Do you know that? You are the most important person in my life, I said.

Then I fell asleep, but not before I bluezed, about this and that.

It must have been around twelve midnight when I heard my cell phone ringing in the sitting room where I left it. I jumped out of bed and ran to grab it. Hello, I said. Really, the person calling was going to get a piece