August 19, 2018 by petrujviljoen
The below is written for an online fiction writing course. Constructive criticism invited.
‘Hallo julle! Hier is ek!’ Hallo everyone! Here I am! Typical Afrikaner. He worked his way through the small town, a road show of friendliness, dishing out hugs and invitations and introductions.
A vacuum. Sucking up. Yes, the layered meaning. Both phrases. All of the bulk of a six feet six plus collecting, inviting, otherwise pumping in the many dimes in the dozen. A rent-a-crowd. Audience as witness to. Him. One as alibi? The rest discarded but for some fodder.
Happens upon the least of the lesser who is in his way. Alone. The least of the lesser has got to go. Who’ve seen him admiring his own bodily tan, ensured, assured. Confidently entitled. Everything is his. Everything. Having it for free.
Who felt himself deprived of dead old wood the depraved took it back from a living tree. A terrible, pitiful need, embarrassing: ‘It’s mine!’ While warm, housed, fed and plenty where it’s at.
Thumbing his nose at the least of the lesser who assisted and abetted the poorest of the poor in fetching dead old wood to warm up a dismal day. Carrying it on their heads, all the way. Swaying in rhythm to the cycles of nature. True; stepping lightly. Women working in all kinds of weather. If they didn’t they, the children, wouldn’t eat.
While eating an unpronounceable breakfast:
‘Will you have Tabasco with that my dear?’
‘Gossip is so common, don’t you think?’
‘I sit on all the committees, don’t you know!’
Pushing out the least of the lesser. Gossip as violence, spreading lies, the damned lies.
Trying to make the least of the lesser hang her head in shame.
Keeping the least of the lesser captive (he shall not be ignored!): the threats, the gossip, the lies, the violence – a trauma bond.
The latest, all that’s left: a threat to the least of the lesser’s cat. Making the least of the lesser wait. When, where the next harm? How shall he have the cat? Too?