Hello Reader, Please use the "Book Chapters" directory to read the Chapters in order. As the story unfolds each new Chapter will be posted... This story weaves a magical tapestry between culture groups and generational groups during tumultuous times. An African Sky tells the story of ordinary people having an incredibly extraordinary experience. Set in turn of the Century Southern Africa.
Don't forget to use the Book Chapter Directory on the right to read the Chapters in sequence. The following events are all true. Names and location have been changed.
Part One: Love in a Harsh Landscape
1910 South Africa – The Feeding and The Dream
was so angry.
a gushing sound in his ears and his vision was rushed and red tinted. His
mother had her hand firmly clamped around his wrist, walking at a pace. Getting
him away from there.
pulling me!” he snarled, ripping his arm from her grasp. He stopped short.
Absolutely horrified that he had behaved that way and spoken in that way to his
observed him coolly. In reality, she was barely keeping her cool. It wasn’t
time for him to know anything yet. He had a few months of innocence left and
she sure as hell wasn’t going to take that from him.
happening to me? Why did I behave in that way?” his eyes searched hers for an
answer, and found none.
“I will tell you all in good time
Jean-Michel. I need you to trust me and be patient. You are not to see that
girl. Not in the meantime. When you know the truth, you will know then that I
am right in what I am requiring of you.” She had already distanced herself
from him emotionally. He could see it in her eyes and in the way that she was
speaking to him.
find no answers here.
with his Father he might.
his father’s car waiting just ahead of them, and they approached the vehicle
together, to all the world appearing as if nothing were wrong. His mother linked
arms with him, placing hers gently through the crook of his elbow. He felt the
strength there, she tightened her fingers on his arm and he winced.
“You will not speak of this to your Father,
nor to any person here, do you understand?” She nodded at a couple walking
passed, “You cannot understand the
significance of what is happening to you, and until you do, you will be safer
saying nothing. Talk to me if you must, but say nothing to anyone.”
was setting and Jean-Michel had retired to his room. The full moon was set to
be a beauty that night. In the lounge room, Marcelle felt that old familiar stirring. She was
restless, knew she would not rest at all. Henri made sure that the house was
closed up for the night. Made sure that Jean-Michel was safe in his room, and
made his way downstairs. Marcelle was standing near the window, her hands claw
like, her body tense and rigid.
be alright my love” he said, walking towards the passageway that led to her art
you know it will? You always say it will. But it sometimes isn’t. What about
last month?” Marcelle swallowed hard, her eyes closing as the scent of her
husbands’ cologne reached her nose. Her heightened sense of smell made it
harder to be near him at this time.
Let us go my love.” Henri walked down the passage way and unlocked the door.
was having a dream. In it, he walked down a rocky outcrop under the moonlit
sky. He saw the ghostly shapes of the rocks, and hay bales. The eerie pale blue
shapes that were sheep, dotted around the veld. His shoes slipped and he
stumbled forward as small stones rolled and skittered across the ground below
him. In the distance, he saw the shape of Winkelmaan Farm. A lighted window let
him know that someone was awake. The window belonged to Elmarie Venter.
stumbled towards the house, a dry longing in his throat and mind. He made it to
the window and reached up to tap the glass panel. Elmarie’s sweet face appeared
in the window, a look of concern followed by a look of joy. She pointed away,
she would meet him at the back of the property, he knew where.
changed, it took on a slanted, nightmare quality. The sounds of the bush were
magnified, his breathing was louder than he had ever heard. His heartbeat was
faltering, stopping altogether. Fighting panic he looked up as Elmarie
approached. Instead of pulling her into his arms, he grabbed at her and pulled
her roughly to him. Feeling a thirst and hunger so great that he could do
nothing different: he broke her. ~
locked the door behind them, and made his way deeper into the art room. He
stood by the window and looked up at the moon. It was almost time.
him in the shadows, Marcelle had taken on an almost predatory gait. She circled
him slowly, watching his breath rise and fall, listening to the rush of blood
in his veins. Feeling the heat of his skin from across the room. She felt the
familiar pain in her jaw, the movement of her teeth, her vision became sharper,
like an owl, or an eagle. Seeing everything. Hearing everything.
went silent. Henri shut his eyes and fought the small snakes of fear that
threatened to slither from his belly to his mind. If he became afraid, things
would end badly. He needed to remain in control, calm, assured of her. Of them.
The silence was the worst part. Being hunted by the one that you loved.
always shook him to the core. The speed of it, the strength of her. The
ferocity of it all. So basic. So primal. The sadness afterwards, the regret and
remorse. The healing.
a sudden rush. Searing pain in his arm, her mouth over his wrist. Feeling her
fighting the urge to kill. He knew not to look into her eyes. If he did so, she
would move to his throat and that would not be good at all. He did his best to
remain aloof. To look ahead as if the pain was not so great, as if his heart
was not breaking. The light headedness was hard to bear. But bear it he must.
Any sign of weakness and her humanity would be lost in the moment. He swallowed
as he forced himself to remain calm. He would not die this night.
woke with a start. His body wet with perspiration, his chest heaving with sobs
and gulps of air. What was happening? He could not get the image of Elmarie
broken in his arms out of his mind… What was going on. He rose to have some water at his night
stand and stood a while looking up at the moon. The light was off in his mother’s
art room, the comforting yellow glow from her windows wasn’t washing the garden
in it’s warm light. He frowned but climbed back into bed. Tomorrow would be
gentle tickle of her softly licking his wrists brought Henri back around. The
sun was rising and he was tired and weak. Marcelle worked over his torn skin,
each lick bringing about new skin regeneration, healing. Her tears and words of
remorse broke his heart every time.
rose and went to his wash stand, splashing cold water over his face, he looked
into the mirror. His eyes were bleak, serious. He had so many questions
his fingers through his hair and tried to smile. The smile vanished as soon as
it appeared. Leaving only a shocked and horrified face staring back. His teeth
were different. But how? He opened his mouth to look but as he did so, the
teeth moved and returned to normal. Try as he may, that morning while he had
his breakfast and planned his day: he couldn’t shake the image of Elmarie’s lifeless
body, and the hint of the sharpened eyetooth that he had seen in the mirror.