Sliced and Diced by Joan De La Haye

Author:Joan De La Haye
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror, Supernatural Horror, Short Stories, Dark, Scary, Ghost, Paranormal, Serial Killer
Publisher: Joan De La Haye
Published: 2017-06-22T04:00:00+00:00

The Forest

One of the things I love about living in Johannesburg, or Jo’burg or Jozi or whatever name you want to call this city, is the trees. I love that it feels like living in a forest. A huge sprawling forest. It doesn’t matter where I drive, there are trees everywhere I look. Whether I’m driving along the M1 or in suburbia. There the trees are, lining the road. Sometimes I forget that I live in such a large and dangerous city, but I guess that comes with the territory. Every forest has its predators and Jo’burg isn’t any different.

I drive along Jan Smuts, heading into town. I just drove through a suburb called Forest Town. I’m not exactly sure why it’s called that. It doesn’t have more trees than any other area, but it’s still a pretty cool name for a suburb.

I remember the first time I noticed that I was living in a veritable forest. I was in my very early twenties and had just started work at the Grace Hotel in Rosebank. It rose out of the trees, all red brick and colonial. I took my breaks from the front desk, on the veranda, outside the restaurant where guests chatted about their tours to Soweto. Only this city could turn its biggest Township into a tourist attraction.

Sunday brunch was in full swing. The Grace is known for having one of the best Sunday brunches in the city. I tuned the sound of cutlery out as I made my way over to my usual spot next to the lap pool. I rested my arms on the wall and looked out over the city. Jozi city skyline rose up ahead of me.

It took me some time to realise what I was seeing. The expression ‘couldn’t see the wood for the trees’ came to mind. I don’t know why I’d never noticed them before and I guess most people don’t really see them either. A green carpet spread out in front of me. Red rooftops jutted out of the green adding to the beauty of the tapestry.

The memory makes me smile.

My smile is quickly wiped out by some dickhead in a 4x4 that thinks keeping his hand on the hooter will somehow magically make me drive faster. But he has a point. I’m late. If I’m not at the ad shoot in a few minutes I’ll be in trouble. Traffic in town moves quickly. The dickhead drives past me and crosses the Nelson Mandela Bridge, thankfully leaving me alone.

Buildings stretch up to meet the sky on either side of me. Somehow trees manage to grow in the shadows of these urban giants.

I turn into Market Street and start looking for the yellow and black sign that the production company has set up to mark the building that we’re shooting in. Security guards with yellow bibs stand on the street corners giving citizens a false sense of security. I can’t help but wonder what some of them would do if there was a robbery.

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