The Silence of the Wilting Skin by Tlotlo Tsamaase

Author:Tlotlo Tsamaase
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Pink Narcissus Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Cold, Uncaring Beast

“Is that a huge knife to the sky?” My Girlfriend asks, standing on a rock near the market place, craning her neck. “What is that?”

We’re myriads of streets away from my home, but apart from the low-lying residences and estates, and adobe structures packed neat into the sky kingdom, from the huddled communion of our architecture, the triangular form pierces through the air, the clouds; bloodshed gleams across its steely skin, the sunset wails. The Triad, so says the sign blanketed across its façade, a chilling smile.

“Underground workers are fast,” says Passer-by 1.

“Is that the resort?” Passer-by 5 motions.

“Ja, it will house residential units, recreational facilities, offices,” says Stranger 1, shiny and raw like teeth. “Nothing like you’ve seen before.”

“What about the neighborhoods that were in its place before?” I ask.

“Every tenant in that land sold their property. Relocated. We offered them more than the market value,” says Stranger 2. He points at the new structure.

Ward 12 has just been taken down, quickly replaced by a foreign surgical tool. How did we not know this?

“The civilians of Ward 12 signed a confidential agreement before relocating from the premises,” Stranger 3 says as if reading my thoughts. “Our firm uses a newly advanced technology that allows for quick deletions of structures and building constructions. It cuts down a lot of labor costs.” The agreement was to create employment for our wards, so if they fell back on their word, what more will they refuse? A whistle parts Stranger 3’s lips. “Now that is a quality standard of living. Which ward do you live in?”

I step back. His breath, his words are invading my personal space. “Why?”

“You might like it up there. There are units on offer. Here.” Stranger 3 offers me a pamphlet advertising a residential unit.

“We can’t afford this,” I shout. “And they’re so small—no garden space. We are comfortable where we’re staying.”

“They have a high market value. You’ll love the view,” adds Stranger 2.

“It’d be so much easier if we understood their language, quite irritating actually,” says Stranger 3. “Well, it’s something that can be easily remedied. Modified.”

The ground beneath him is starved of shadow. I look up and back away. My Girlfriend notices it too, and beneath our feet our shadows war and flicker with something. I gasp. The District on the Other Side of the City! They are the Strangers, the Others; to not see their hand, we must not see their shadows’ tracks. The Strangers with the Invisible Shadows.

“Hold on, how did you get in here?” asks My Girlfriend. “You’re from the District on the Other Side of the City.” Their skin looks like us, pale, ours mutated to theirs; there’s a difference that discerns our side from theirs, a need be it seems.

“We’re the architects, the proud brain power behind this design.” The three Strangers stretch smiles across their faces.

“But each side is not allowed to cross over to the other side,” My Girlfriend says.

“Permission was granted given the new changes. Change is good.

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