A little honesty

A piece of fiction, set at Chobe Marina Lodge, Kasane-Botswana. Well, I'm taking baby steps but this is one of my favourite pieces.

After taking another sip, he held his almost-empty glass up, half-closed eyes still fixed on the thick murky contents. He swung his head sideways sluggishly and continued, “A strong roast like this here gives you the courage to put on a little honesty, something that a sober mind just can’t do.” I looked at my wristwatch, and then summoned the bartender �"who also couldn’t stop looking at an old clock to the right of the counter; the bar could close any minute. Dave couldn’t wait to drive his point home, and the way he kept on digging my ribs to grab attention was annoying every bit of me. I turned around and signalled, “Yes, I’m with you Dave, you were saying...”                                     

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Chobe Safari Lodge is not just one of the many lodges sitting on the bank of the Chobe River in the tourist town of Kasane, it stands supreme. Among its array of dazzling anecdotes one has to mention the view from across its wooden deck into Namibia’s Caprivi Strip. This is where the sun’s journey across our country’s skies ends in an alluring work of art, a marvel. After watching sunset, the damp breeze from athwart the waters can be haughty �"especially in winter. We had to stir from the banks into the restaurant, where a tempting display of evening buffet waited. This is where I met Dave Matheson, a Canadian photo-journalist, at which instant we became friends.  

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I could see the weight of the alcohol on his eyelids, shutting his eyes completely with every blink; I had no doubt that the man had had plenty. Every word he asserted was not with ease, the brew holding his tongue prisoner. Besides the tiny spits and a bothersome tut, the strong smell of malt from his every breath was also what I had to endure. “As I was saying, mom and dad hated my wife,” Dave maintained. A drunken man is always very hard to comprehend; one has to piece together a dress of statements in order to come up with an apt account. For the next minutes of his telling of the tale, I couldn’t pick much besides a lot of hatred and rage. Then he took a hold of my attention as he brought an end to it, “...that’s when I killed both my parents that Christmas day.” I could barely hear his chuckle as he produced a worn out piece of newspaper from the camera pouch hanging from his neck. It had two faces on it and a WANTED notice at the bottom corner with his photograph on it. “And I’ve gotten away with it,” he said.

Author's Note

This is my first post and I'm looking forward to your contributions in form of reviews. I'm willing to improve my writing and your help will be much appreciated. Thanks in advance

Reviews

[Lydia Shutter]

"the brew holding his tongue prisoner" Brilliant personification of alcohol here. You touch on all the senses with the imagery you employ. The character you constructed seemed so harmless....till the twist ending...one EAP would be proud of! WOW, he got away with killing his parents and then was bragging about it! This is a man to be afraid of! Perhaps honesty you were not ready for! You have a lot of talent. I think i would like another story about this same character. Welcome to WC. Lydi**

[Amantle Moeng]

Thank you so much Lydia, i appreciate your review. Haha, I'll drop another piece about the same character. W.C's awesome, i'm learning a lot about writing and especially poetry, something i also want to try.

[Nazifa Noor]

Not bad you know, I like your writing! I published by first writing too! Hope you'd be kind enough to stop by! :)

[Amantle Moeng]

Thank you so much Nazifa, I'll "stop by and leave comments on your writing.

[Nazifa Noor]

thank you soooooooooooo much for ur comment!! You just made my frickin' day!!! :D