Craft & Wine Fair

Craft & Wine Fair
Craft & Wine Fair


By Tafadzwa Chiwanza
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"Letter number 52"

By Tafadzwa Chiwanza

"Young one hurry with the needle and the thread. I wish to stitch these words lingering on the tip of my tongue. Bring pen and paper too, I need them printed on into a letter."

Young Paris dashed into the room with a dish of warm water. He looked at him as he was lying on the bed, his face pale and sickly. He took his usual place at the head of the bed and began rubbing a warm  ragged towel on his forehead.

"Brother its best if you forget about her. I am sorry, but it is evident that she will never want you." said Paris, his eyes watery with tears.

"Hand me the things I called you for." insisted Michael. Paris stopped rubbing his brother's head and stared at him,

"Brother, you have penned more than fifty  letters to this woman. Can you not see, she will never write back to you?" cried Paris, his voice rising to a shrill with frustration.

"I care not, I will spend the remainder of my life writing to her, I can not stop, until, this wretched illness kills me!" declared Michael "Young one do not tarry, these words need not escape my memory."

"Brother I can not stand and set sight upon your misery. For how long will you whip yourself like this for her. Look at how your health has devolved!" he hesitated, and shook his head at him in a peculiar fashion. " For how long will I come in here to sooth you, give ear to your heartrending efforts to compose letters to her and set eyes on your lachrymose weeping everytime she replies you not?" Paris cried and his cry was  like that of a person in actual anguish.

"As long as it takes to make my love known to her." vowed the man in love.

"Oh brother please!" Paris sighed and a blank silence followed.

Michael made an effort to get up and started scribbling the words again. This was now letter number fifty two. It was not very much different from the other fifty one letters that had been written to the lady Livia. After a few minutes of pouring his emotions on the paper and many more minutes of  proofreading it, he handed it to his younger brother.
With a smile of satisfaction, he neatly folded the letter. "see to the delivery of the letter, young brother." he handed the letter to Paris.
"As you wish, beloved brother!"
"My gratitude!"

Paris took the letter and  immediately bolted out of the room. When he had gone a mile or so, he threw away the letter just like how he had thrown away the other fifty one letters.

He watched the paper being swept away by the churning dark brown waters of the river in which he had drowned fifty two pages of his brothers undying love. As he did this, he felt the presence of another human being. Abruptly, he turned and was petrified by the face he saw staring at him.
"why brother, why?" Michael cried as he looked at the letter being swept away by the river and at his young brother. "Paris, why would you do this?"

Paris began walking around nervously, laughing quietly and murmuring softly to himself. When he turned around, he stared at his brother.
"I love her too brother! I love her, more than you do!" he declared with a plump of his chest with his fist like a guerilla.
"O my dear Paris, how could you!" he cried chapfallen, his words striking at Paris' ears forcibly. At that instant Michael's knees began crackling like thorns on fire. All of a sudden, his legs lost power and he managed to lower himself to the ground and set there.

Paris noticing this, he slouched to his brother. A storm of guilty rushed upon him and began bawing, "Michael, Michael please!" Michaels' breathing was weak and interrupted with soft sobs. From time to time he would shake his had melancholy and utter a "why Paris?" to this,  the young brother would reply with a shake of his head.
"Brother I am so sorry!" Paris cried, as he was at the verge of  tears.

"you did well, Paris." Michael said while turning his calm face to his young brother to assure him with a smile. "love her." He whispered and he got up and started walking away from his young brother. In his mind, he was walking away from Paris, forever. "au revoir." he whispered below his breath and his whisper was broken into inaudible fragments.


Tafadzwa Chiwanza is a young writer who resides in the heart of the city of Chitungwiza. He has written dozens short stories, as many poems and a novelette. On all these writings, he has drawn inspiration from the day to day lives of his friends and family.

Those interested in reading more of his works can get in touch with him on facebook or alternatively like his Facebook page "The Passion Of A Writer's Pen."
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