The gaunt woman leaps into the coffin without a hint of hesitation, a sick and intense determination brightening her eyes. She steps on her dead sister’s chest with bone-crunching force and lifts her lifeless arm by the wrist. She rips the arm off the corpse like she tears a page from a book.
As she dangles the arm in front of her, she looks at it with a gleeful sparkle in her eyes. To my horror, she bites a chunk out of the arm and throws it to the obese woman. As she chews the rotting flesh, the previously clotted blood is reanimated and slides down the corners of her lips. She doesn’t allow the blood to drip to the ground. She brushes it with a graceful finger; a finger she delicately kisses like a missed lover.
I had always wanted to tell a story using my dad’s weird and scary witchcraft tales as inspiration. But when I was a child, they were not just stories—I believed them. And I wouldn’t have been called crazy for believing them. A lot of Zimbabweans believe in some form of witchcraft. It’s not just superstition, it’s fact.
True or not, I always thought the stories were authentic, truly Zimbabwean, and powerful in how they effortlessly awakened terror. Since the beliefs had survived the generations, they were colourful, full of detail, and crammed with conventional wisdom. If anything else, I loved their originality. The stories were something uniquely ours, untouched by Hollywood, and waiting to be told.
But I was a child and I knew nothing about writing. I more imagined the stories being brought to life through film than in a book.
So what changed?
For starters, I had been working on my first novel for almost a year. It wasn’t a daunting challenge anymore to write a book. But even that wasn’t what prompted me to write A Consuming Darkness. It’s funny how an old passion can be reawakened by an instance of inspiration.
My inspiration came in the form of a movie — The Witch: A New-England Folktale. I loved the film. It was understated, disturbing, and it felt authentic. The movie showed an old version of witches, highlighting more the anxieties felt by a family of individuals who really believed in their existence. The story was really creepy because it wasn’t inflated and therefore felt more real.
When I found out that the film was based on 17th century New England folklore, I was intrigued. Hadn’t I wanted to tell a story using our own unique Zimbabwean folklore?
That’s when I started writing notes. I even wrote the first chapter, when the protagonist is in the thick of things with the witches. But these were not broom riding, black pointy hat wearing, and cackling hags. They were based on what really frightens my family, friends, and colleagues—based on what really frightened me as a child, to the point of terror-induced insomnia.
Be sure to check out our FREE eBook of short stories, What Preys in the Night.
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