Blood Bonds

Blood Bonds

A Story by Fatsani Chione

measures we take for the sake of family


Henry try to take it easy, ok?’

How do you expect me to take it easy? Explain that to her!’ I retorted

I’m sorry man’ he continued

You’re sorry uh?’ with that I slapped him with all the strength left in my bones. Anger was burning all over my body. I felt rather what was running in my veins was not blood but lava. I was very mad, how could he do such a thing? The slap was too much for him; he staggered and touched one hand on the floor with the other on his cheek. He looked at me with unbelieving eye. I bet he could see the fire burning in my eyes. I could feel the impulse of my blood running at the speed of a rushing train. I rushed at him and kicked him on the side of his head. I watched him helpless as he fell down to the ground. You could say I am ruthless since you have no hint of what grief he had caused me. I was only giving him what he deserved for the precious thing he had forever taken from me. Something that even a billionaire’s lifetime riches would never give back.


At eleven o’clock pm, she left her home. She was very certain of what she had to do. She had been very careful in her dealings. After a long and careful look into the cases of theft that had polluted her city she was finally holding both sides of the rope. She had all the proofs pointing out to those who masterminded the whole robberies and atrocities in her hometown. She was ready to blow the racket. She could already imagine the whole gang being canned by the police as soon as the news was out. She was working with one of the country’s best media houses ‘The Focus Times Newspaper’

Though it was late she was certain that she would find others working late as was the case in most days. Some people could work on their articles until early hours of the day. In a professional like her’s one had to be careful with what he or she put in the papers, because one single mistake could cause a lot of damage to one’s career.

She saw her office flashing in a distance as she took a turn at a round about taking a route leading to her office. She was doing good judging by what she had acquired in only two years she had spent in her career. She was driving a black X-Trail, which she had bought only a month before. She was enjoying her profession, since childhood, it was her dream to become a journalist.

She stepped on the brakes quickly. The car suddenly came to a halt. She found herself sweating. She was very close to run over a person. There was a person standing in the middle of the road a few meters before the entry gate to her office. She wanted to shout at him but her humanity could not let her.‘Maybe he is deaf.’ She thought

Sir, are you ok?’ she asked as she walked out of the car. Her lucky stars did not whisper to her of what fate had in store for her, otherwise she would not dare to walk out. Her legs froze, she stood transfixed as if she had grown roots. The man was pointing a pistol at her. She recognise the face, it was Mabvuto, a friend to Henry, her brother. Her mouth opened but before she could utter a word she felt hollow inside her. She grew numb and her eyes turned but saw nothing but dark growing around her. She felt blood oozing out down her left breast. She fell to the ground as her eyes closed for the very last time.


Mabvuto rose from the ground. Whatever had crossed his mind was evil and I could sense it. If he thought I was afraid with the way he looked at me then he was very wrong. The left side of his head was covered in blood from the kick I gave him. When he spoke his voice somehow betrayed his newly built confidence. I could detect some terror from his voice.

What other choice was there?’ he asked looking straight in my eyes.

The question was a slap to my both cheeks. It sounded so brutal, so inhuman. There were thousands of choices I guess; only a fool like him could not see. His own stupidity had led him to the present state. He must have thought he had me corned for I was quite for some seconds.

Sylvia was my sister’ I carelessly stated and let the words hang in the air. I could clearly register the surprise on his face.

She was my own blood!’ I shouted as tears started rolling down my cheeks.

My heart was beating faster. See, Sylvia was my sister, born of my stepmother. When I was four years, my mother suffered from lung cancer, which claimed her life. My father remarried after two years from my mother’s death. The new woman he married bore give a daughter. My father liked Sylvia a lot than me. Maybe that’s the way I saw it or that’s really how things were. Between her and I all was well. It was as if we were born of the very same mother. She was sharp in the head. I still remember how brilliant my sister was. The case was likewise with her mother. She treated me as her own, never was there a day as long as I can remember that she made me feel alone and motherless.

My father was a taxi driver. We may have had our differences but overall I know he was a good man. The day he died he called for me to be present at the hospital where he was admitted, after the car he was driving had run into a stationary track. His whole body was dressed with bandages. My mother was beside him. When I stepped into the room she smiled at me and held my hand. He motioned that I go near. I held his hand in mine, Sylvia’s in the other. My mother was holding his other hand. So we held hands in a circle. It was then than he said his final words.

This is..’ he stated with difficulties ‘..your family…’ he tried to continue but that is all death could let his say ,for it took him few minutes after that.


The company we keep truly determines and shapes our destiny. Secondary school saw me becoming ‘Henzo’, a name that people trembled upon hearing it. It was then that I started smoking and drinking. I knew there was no going back. There was only one way to go and that was forward. ‘The Movement’ as we called it comprised five founding members, four boys and a girl. I was the king of the empire. I was the man behind ‘The Movement’ and it was my duty to plan all undertakings of the group. School desks, mattresses and luggage of our fellow students were the things we dealt with. Little did we know how deep rooted we were into that business when we left school. Some opted for an outing while the few who stayed refused to see ‘The Movement’ die a natural death.

I left home six years ago and did not meet mother or Sylvia in those six years. Two weeks ago, Sylvia showed up on my door. I never expected to see her again in this lifetime. She was looking beautiful as ever. I was glad to see her but at the same time scared of her finding out what I was involved in. I heard that she had graduated from a college of journalism and was working with a big media house in the land. I still failed to understand how she found my address.

How did you find me?’ I inquired

Instead of answering, she looked around my mansion and then she sat down as if she did not hear me.

I see you are doing good brother’ she said ‘no wonder it never bothered you to come home’

I saw that she was avoiding my gaze. I did not visit them all the years not necessarily out of unwillingness but fear. Fear of endangering them. In the business I was in one had many enemies. Therefore, I had to keep away from my family in order to keep them safe. She explained all about her school and work, which I knew already of course.

Henry, I know what kind of business you do’ she said, this time looking straight in my eyes.

I said nothing, I just stood where I was. She stood up and stepped close to where I was standing.

It’s never too late brother, you can quite now. There is still a chance I may be able to protect you, that is if you quite all this now.’

Enough Sylvia!’ I shouted

I felt sorry for her, she had no idea of what she was asking of me. She did not know how hard it was to climb to where I was. She knew nothing about the struggles and efforts that I underwent to make it to the top. I did not expect her to understand what manner of a man I had become. I was no longer that Henry she used to know.

I will hear no more word from you, I know what I am doing and you little sister will tell me nothing, you hear me?’ I could see terror in her eyes.

I wanted to tell her I was sorry but my pride could not let me. Normally Henry would say sorry but ‘Henzo’ would not.

I watched her as she picked her bag and made it for the door. She turned and wanted to say something but could not say it. I saw tears in her eyes. She walked out. I followed her and stood on the veranda as she started the engine.

Goodbye Henry’ she said as she drove away. I raised my hand to wave but could not really do it. I rushed back inside as tears rolled down my cheeks. In more than eight years that was the first time I shed tears. I wish I could do as Sylvia had said but I knew it was too impossible.


I should admit my sister was a good journalist. In her findings never was there a detail missing about ‘The Movement’s’ undertakings. She had details of all the outlets and inlets of all our proceedings. Still I failed to understand how she could compile all the findings and managed to skip my name. All the details were accurate but none of them ever pointed to me. She was protecting me. Despite knowing how evil I was she still chose to keep me out of the file. That’s what family is all about. Maybe if I was in her position I would have done the same thing. My respect for her grew more upon realising the contents of the file. How I wish she was alive so that I could express my gratitude. She was never going to come back all because of this fool in front of me.


I calculated his thoughts and figured out what his next move would be. I had to be quick to outsmart his, in such a situation a little delay then meant it was my funeral. The guns sounded at the same time. I saw him falling to the ground. I never missed. I fired two bullets on his chest. No sooner had his body fallen to the ground than I felt the pain. The pain grew stronger with each passing second. I felt darkness clipping over my eyes. I knew then that I was shot. I could sense death ,it was near and there was nothing I could do about it.


The next day’s newspapers, radio coverage and television news carried the same major headline “TWO GANG MEMBERS SHOT EACH OTHER TO DEATH.”

© 2019 Fatsani Chione

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Added on August 8, 2019
Last Updated on August 8, 2019


Fatsani Chione
Fatsani Chione

Lilongwe, Malawi

I am a writer from Malawi, male , aged 23. I write poetry , short stories and articles. more..