{"id":18985,"date":"2026-01-23T13:52:53","date_gmt":"2026-01-23T13:52:53","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/?p=18985"},"modified":"2026-01-23T13:52:53","modified_gmt":"2026-01-23T13:52:53","slug":"void-novel-chapter-11","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/void-novel-chapter-11\/","title":{"rendered":"VOID Novel Chapter 11"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
VOID (short insert)<\/div>\n
\u00a92026 Sanelisiwe Ndlovu Hoko<\/div>\n
CHAPTER ELEVEN<\/div>\n
LIHLE<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
The conversation with my mother a week ago left me split in two. I understand her determination for those girls to come home. But the path she\u2019s chosen now? It\u2019s not longing. It\u2019s war.If we didn\u2019t know where they were, I\u2019d stand beside her. But we do. I have Sinenhlanhla\u2019s number. She could call them. Or I could drive her there myself, sit with the Msebeles, talk like adults and reach common ground.<\/div>\n
Instead, my mother chants in the dark while Sinenhlanhla pays the price. I still hear her cries. That girl wasn\u2019t just sad, she was shattered. When she hung up, I collapsed onto my chair and sobbed until my ribs ached. All day, I waited for her to call again. Hoping she\u2019d trust me enough to open up a lot more.<\/div>\n
Now I know. She\u2019s suffering because of my mother\u2019s pride. Her grief turned weapon. Yes, there\u2019s bad blood between Linda and the Msebeles. Old wounds, old lies. But this isn\u2019t about them anymore. It\u2019s about two girls who never chose this war. Innocent. Unarmed. Yet being used as battlegrounds.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
The shrill of the alarm jolts me back to reality. It\u2019s in the morning. I haven\u2019t been sleeping properly these days. Thank God it\u2019s Sunday; I\u2019m not going to work. I reach under the pillow for my phone. No messages. No missed calls from Sinenhlanhla.<\/div>\n
My stomach knots. What if something happened? What if my mother\u2019s rituals went too far? A week is a long time for someone to be unreachable. I dial her number and it takes me straight to voicemail like the other days.<\/div>\n
That\u2019s it. I throw off the sheets, head to the shower, and let the cold-water slap sense into me. I\u2019m defying Linda. I\u2019m driving to Kezi. Linda will forgive me later.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
The road from Bulawayo to Kezi is the hardest drive of my life. I keep trying Sinenhlanhla\u2019s phone. At this point, I\u2019d welcome her screaming at me, calling me names, accusing me of lies, just to hear her voice. Just to know she\u2019s alive.<\/div>\n
I ask around at the business centre and they direct me to their homestead. Relief washes over me as I see no crowd or tent in the yard. At least no one is dead. My breath returns.<\/div>\n
I park at the gate and step out. I spot a woman sitting in the shade of a grass thatched hut. As I get closer, I realise it\u2019s Sibongile. She\u2019s having juice, and biscuits from a huge bowl.<\/div>\n
I came empty-handed. What kind of aunt shows up with nothing but questions?<\/div>\n
We exchange greetings. She doesn\u2019t look up. She just crunches her biscuits, one after the other.<\/div>\n
\u201cI\u2019m looking for Sinenhlanhla. Is she around?\u201d I ask.<\/div>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s sleeping.\u201d Flat. Dismissive.<\/div>\n
\u201cIs she\u2026 okay?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cOkay where?\u201d She scoffs. \u201cShe\u2019s getting worse by the day. Whatever sin that child committed must be huge. If she slept with someone\u2019s husband, the wife must be furious, killing her bit by bit like this. Two days ago, she woke up blind.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cBlind?\u201d<\/div>\n
She pops another biscuit into her mouth. \u201cI told her this morning to better pray for death. What\u2019s the use of living like this? At least we joined a funeral cover for them. Feels like we knew she\u2019d die soon.\u201d<\/div>\n
My chest caves in. Tears burn, but I swallow them. I\u2019ve never heard of such cruelty. If she can openly say this to me, I wonder how she treats Sinenhlanhla. Did she even eat today or she is starved so that she dies faster? Where\u2019s Kayise?<\/div>\n
\u201cDid your mother go to the village meeting?\u201d she asks suddenly, swirling her tongue in her cheek. She thinks I\u2019m someone else. \u201cI had stomach-ache. I couldn\u2019t go.\u201d<\/div>\n
How can she not have a stomach-ache while shovelling biscuits like this?<\/div>\n
\u201cMy name is Lihle Ndlovu,\u201d I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking. \u201cFrom Plumtree. I\u2019m Sinenhlanhla\u2019s aunt.\u201d<\/div>\n
She spits the biscuit onto the ground and stares at me like I\u2019ve risen from a grave.<\/div>\n
\u201cMay I please see Sinenhlanhla.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cMntanomthakathi!\u201d she hisses. \u201cWhat brings you here? Your mother sent you, right?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cNo one sent me. I\u2019ve been trying to get hold of Nhlanhla, her phone won\u2019t go through and I as worried about her.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWorried about her after all these years?\u201d Without warning, she grabs her glass and hurls the juice straight into my face. \u201cYou\u2019re not welcome here. Get out before I do something I\u2019ll regret.\u201d<\/div>\n
I close my eyes, and draw in a steeling breath. When I open them, I lick my lips. This juice is too sweet. I wonder if it\u2019s even diluted.<\/div>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not leaving without seeing Nhlanhla,\u201d I say with determination.<\/div>\n
\u201cShe doesn\u2019t want to see you. She doesn\u2019t even know you.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cThen let her tell me herself. If she doesn\u2019t know me, I\u2019ll introduce myself to her.\u201d<\/div>\n
I stand up and stride toward the main house. If she hadn\u2019t poured me with juice, perhaps I would still be respecting her and begging her to allow me to talk to Nhlanhla, but now, I\u2019m not going anywhere without seeing my niece. As I walk past the blackened skeleton of the burnt house, anger simmers. I wonder if mom really knows the damage caused by her rituals.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\u201cNhlanhla!\u201d I call.<\/div>\n
\u201cHey, wena!\u201d Sibongile shrieks from behind. \u201cI\u2019ll set the dogs on you!\u201d<\/div>\n
She won\u2019t move for at least five minutes, with that body,<\/div>\n
\u201cNhlanhla! Kayise!\u201d I yell.<\/div>\n
A whisper cuts through the heat:<\/div>\n
\u201cHello.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWhere are you?\u201d I stop, scanning the doorway.<\/div>\n
\u201cIn here.\u201d There\u2019s a sound of something tapping the door.<\/div>\n
Come out, baby girl.\u201d<\/div>\n
I impatiently wait outside, my eyes darting from the door, to where Lind is still struggling to sit up.<\/div>\n
The door creaks open, and Sinenhlanhla steps out. She\u2019s frail, her skin stretched thin over bone. One crutch under her arms, the other sweeping the ground like a blind man\u2019s cane. Her face is twisted, and her eyes vacant.<\/div>\n
She really is blind. Two weeks ago, she stood tall, angry, fierce and beautiful, threatening to strangle me. Now she\u2019s a shadow wearing her skin. And it\u2019s my mother who did this.<\/div>\n
\u201cWhere are you?\u201d she asks, voice trembling.<\/div>\n
\u201cI\u2019m here, my girl.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cLihle? Is that you?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cYes. It\u2019s me.\u201d She recognised my voice. I cross the space in three strides and wrap my arms around her. The moment I touch her, she breaks down, sobs tearing from her throat like roots ripped from earth. I hold her tighter, tears streaming down my own face.<\/div>\n
Had my brother lived, she wouldn\u2019t be here. Had he lived, no one would use his daughter as a weapon. She\u2019s not a person to them. She\u2019s a pawn.<\/div>\n
\u201cHelp me, Lihle,\u201d she whispers against my shoulder.<\/div>\n
Her words break me. This is the girl who wanted to strangle me. Now she clings to me like I\u2019m the last thread holding her to life. I have no words to describe how I feel. I\u2019m hurt. I want to absorb her pain and take it away from her.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
Before I can answer, Ice-cold water soaks my back, my hair, my clothes. I turn around. Sibongile stands there, bucket dangling from her hand, face twisted in triumph.<\/div>\n
\u201cGo back to whatever hole you\u2019re coming from!\u201d she sneers.<\/div>\n
.<\/div>\n
.<\/div>\n
.<\/div>\n
.<\/div>\n
I’m plugging you to one of our authors. Congratulations Cleo Patra<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

VOID (short insert) \u00a92026 Sanelisiwe Ndlovu Hoko CHAPTER ELEVEN LIHLE The conversation with my mother a week ago left me […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"default","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"footnotes":""},"categories":[23],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-18985","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-void-novel"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18985","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=18985"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18985\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18996,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18985\/revisions\/18996"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18985"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18985"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18985"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}