Cadem Nation

16/08/2025

THE LETTER
CHAPTER 3

The woman grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the back door. “No matter what you hear, don’t stop running,” she whispered.

We slipped out into the backyard and through a narrow passage between two houses. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt.

We kept running until we reached a small shack at the edge of a dusty open field. The woman knocked three times in a strange pattern.

The door opened, and I froze. There she was. Lindiwe.

Her hair was longer, her face older, but those eyes, they were the same. She stared at me, disbelief written all over her face. “Thandeka?”

I couldn’t speak. I just ran into her arms, holding her so tight I thought I might break her ribs.

We both cried, years of pain pouring out in that moment.

But the woman pulled us apart. “We have to move now. They’re close.”

Lindiwe looked weak. She limped slightly as we hurried across the field. In the distance, I could see headlights sweeping across the open ground.

“They’ve found us,” the woman said.

We ducked behind an old bus wreck, trying to stay low. My hands were shaking as I held Lindiwe’s hand.

Then the woman turned to me. “I’ll distract them. You take your sister and follow the train tracks north. There’s a safe place two kilometers from here.”

Before I could protest, she ran out into the open. Shouts filled the night. Footsteps pounded after her.

I pulled Lindiwe along the tracks, my breath burning my lungs. Every few steps she stumbled, but I kept her moving.

We finally reached a small abandoned warehouse. Inside, an old man was waiting. “You must be Thandeka,” he said. “You’re safe here. For now.”

I laid Lindiwe on a blanket and looked at her properly for the first time. Her wrists had marks, like she’d been tied up. Her eyes looked haunted.

“Who did this to you?” I asked softly.

She swallowed hard. “Uncle Themba… and people worse than him.”

I felt rage boiling inside me, but I pushed it down. Right now, she needed safety, not my anger.

The old man locked the door and looked at me. “They will come for you both. You need to decide whether to run far… or fight.”

And in that cold, dim warehouse, with my sister finally back, I knew the choice I was going to make. I wasn’t running.

They took eleven years from us. I was going to make them pay for every single day.

For weeks, Lindiwe and I moved from one safe house to another. Every night, I slept with one ear open, waiting for footsteps outside. But each day she grew a little stronger, and that gave me strength too.

The old man and the woman who helped us didn’t disappear. They helped us to gather proof phone recordings, photographs, even names of people Uncle Themba had betrayed. Every piece of evidence felt like another brick in the wall we were building against him.

When I finally walked into the police station with everything in a small black bag, I was ready for them to laugh or tell me there was nothing they could do. But this time, they didn’t. They listened. They acted.

Two weeks later, I watched from a distance as police cars surrounded Uncle Themba’s house. He came out in handcuffs, still trying to talk his way out. For the first time in years, I felt a weight lift from my chest.

Lindiwe testified in court. Her voice trembled, but she spoke the truth. The judge looked him straight in the eye and sentenced him to life. I didn’t cheer. I didn’t cry. I just held my sister’s hand and squeezed it.

Months later, we stood at our mother’s grave in Soweto. The wind was soft that day. “We’re free now,” I whispered. I wish she could see the daughter she died for.

Lindiwe nodded, her eyes shining. “Free.”

We walked away without looking back. I didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in eleven years, I was ready to live it, with my sister beside me.

The End. Thank you for Reading ❤️

16/08/2025

THE LETTER
CHAPTER 2

I swallowed hard. My heart was pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears. “Where is she?” I asked.

The man’s voice was low. “Not here. Not safe to talk here.” He slipped a folded piece of paper into my hand. “This has an address. Come tomorrow night, alone. If anyone follows you, she’s gone forever.”

Before I could ask anything else, he walked away, disappearing into the shadows beyond the station.

I stood there for a while, staring at the paper. My hands were trembling. Part of me wanted to run after him, demand answers. But something in the way he spoke told me he meant every word.

I walked home quickly, my head spinning. That night I sat on my bed, staring at the paper under the dim light bulb. The address was in Orlando West, Soweto.

The next day was the longest of my life. Every sound made me jump. I kept replaying his words in my head: She’s alive.

When darkness came, I put on a hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. I took a taxi towards Orlando West, but got off two stops early. I didn’t want anyone tracing where I was going.

The street on the paper was quiet, lined with old houses. Some had lights on, others were dark. The number on the gate matched the address. My hands were sweating as I pushed the gate open.

A woman opened the door before I knocked. She was tall, with sharp eyes. “You’re late,” she said.

I stepped inside. The living room was dim, smelling of paraffin and old wood. On the table, I saw another letter — this time with my name typed neatly.

The woman sat me down. “Listen carefully. Your sister was taken by people your family knows. People you trust.”

I felt my stomach twist. “Who?” I asked.

She leaned closer. “Your uncle, Themba.”

I almost laughed, not because it was funny, but because it was impossible. My uncle raised me after my parents died. He paid my school fees. He was the one who cried the loudest at Lindiwe’s funeral prayer.

“You’re lying,” I said.

She shook her head. “He owes money to dangerous people. Lindiwe was taken as payment. But she wasn’t killed. She’s been kept alive… for something worse.”

The room suddenly felt too small. “Where is she now?” I demanded.

The woman looked at the door. “You’ll see her tonight. But you must be ready. Once you take her, those men will come for you too.”

Her words chilled me. Before I could reply, there was a knock on the door, slow, heavy, like the footsteps I’d heard at the station. The woman’s eyes widened. “They’re here.”

To Be Continued...

16/08/2025

THE LETTER
CHAPTER 1

I was washing clothes behind the small RDP house when I saw the postman passing. He greeted me, then placed a brown envelope in my hand. The paper felt rough, like it had been kept somewhere for a long time.

My first thought was that it was from the clinic. Maybe my blood test results. But when I turned it over, I saw the name written on the front: To: Thandeka Mokoena. The handwriting looked like someone who was in a hurry, or someone whose hands were shaking.

I opened it slowly. The smell of old paper and something faintly burnt hit my nose. The first line made my legs weak: “I know what happened to your sister, Lindiwe.”

I sat down on the cement floor. For a moment, the sound of kids playing in the street disappeared. My sister had been missing for eleven years. The police closed the case after two years. Everyone told me to move on.

My mother cried herself into sickness and passed away. My father stopped talking about it completely. But here was a letter, out of nowhere, saying they knew.

I read the next line: “If you want the truth, come alone to the old train station in Kliptown at 10pm on Friday. Don’t tell anyone.”

I looked around, as if the sender might be standing nearby watching me. My heart was beating too fast.

By the time I finished washing the clothes, my hands were numb, and not from the cold water. I kept thinking about the letter. Was it real? Was it a cruel prank?

I tried to call my cousin Zanele, but stopped halfway. The letter said I shouldn’t tell anyone. And if this was my only chance to know what happened to Lindiwe, could I risk losing it?

That night I barely slept. I kept seeing Lindiwe’s face in my dreams. She was smiling like she always did before she left for school that morning. She never came back.

Friday came too fast. The whole day, my stomach felt tight. I told my neighbour I was going to visit a friend in Soweto and might come home late.

By 9pm I was already walking towards Kliptown. The streets were quiet. A few streetlights flickered. My breath made small clouds in the cold air.

When I got to the station, it looked abandoned. Rusted metal. Broken glass. The old tracks disappearing into the darkness.

I stood there, holding the letter in my pocket. Then I heard footsteps. Slow. Heavy.

A man stepped into the dim light. He wore a dark hoodie. His face was hidden. “Are you Thandeka?” he asked.

I nodded, my mouth too dry to speak.

He looked around, then pulled something from his pocket. It was a small silver locket. I recognised it immediately. It was Lindiwe’s.

My knees almost gave in. “Where did you get that?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “Your sister is alive.”

The sound of those words hit me harder than anything in my life. I took a step forward, but he raised his hand to stop me. “If you want to see her, you need to listen to me carefully.”

Then he looked over his shoulder, as if someone was watching us. “We don’t have much time.”

To Be Continued...

20/07/2025

My Mother-In-Law Called Me a Witch and Chased Me Out — But the Day I Left, Her Own Daughter Started Barking Like a Dog at Midnight
EPISODE 3
Written By Jerry Smith.

The once vibrant compound was now a place of silence, sorrow, and whispered fear. Mama Ifeanyi lay stiff on her bamboo bed, her tongue swollen and cracked, her eyes bloodshot. She hadn’t walked in days. Every word that left her mouth came out like riddles spoken from another realm.

“The red moon eats the goat… the bell tolls backward… seven… seven… seven…” she mumbled repeatedly, her head jerking side to side.

The neighbors avoided the house. Children no longer played outside. Even the birds refused to perch on the trees.

Ruth was worse.

She no longer responded to her name. She hissed at anyone who came close. She crawled around on all fours, lapping water from a stainless bowl like a wild dog. Her clothes were in tatters. She slept under the table, refusing the bed.

“Aunty Ruth, please eat something,” her little cousin begged one afternoon, holding a piece of bread.

Ruth snatched it, sniffed it—and tossed it into the corner, growling.

Ifeanyi, now visibly thinner, walked around like a ghost. Guilt clung to his shadow like wet cloth.

One morning, the compound gate creaked open, and the seer returned.

“I heard the cries,” he said simply, stepping in.

The moment he entered, Mama Ifeanyi began to weep softly. Ruth crawled to a corner and stared blankly.

The seer placed a black stone on the floor and lit three white candles around it.

Then he spoke.

“When you chased away the girl carrying a divine child… you invited the wrath of the ancient mother spirit.”

“What… what do you mean?” Ifeanyi asked.

“She was a gift,” the seer continued. “The child in her womb was sent to cleanse your bloodline. But your mother’s pride… rejected salvation.”

The air thickened.

“The bark was just the beginning,” the seer added. “On the seventh midnight, if she is not restored, Ruth will no longer be your sister.

19/05/2025

SEE WHAT A SLAY QUEEN NEIGHBOR DOES WITH HER NEIGHBORS’ SON

She began doing things that Kobe didn't understand. This new game was totally unlike the ones he played with his friends at school. Kobe was only 10 years old and in primary school.

He loved playing soccer and reading story books. However, most days he returned to an empty house because his parents were always working. Mr. and Mrs. Omari ran a large shop in the local market. They worked hard daily to earn money and give Kobe a good life.

The school bus dropped Kobe off at home around 3:00 in the afternoon every day, and he would be alone at home until 6:00 in the evening when his mother got back from the market.

"I'm so bored staying here by myself," he complained one evening.

"We're sorry, Kobe. It's just for 3 hours," his mother said. "We have to work hard to pay for your school fees and other needs."

Kobe understood, but he still wished sometimes that they had more time for him.

One day, Mrs. Omari had an idea. "Kobe," she said, "why don't we ask Auntie Merera, our neighbor who lives next door, to look after you until we come home?"

Auntie Merera was their neighbor, a woman in her late 20s who lived alone. She was a spinster, meaning she was single. She was always cheerful and kind, so Kobe's parents trusted her.

"Okay, Mom," Kobe agreed. He knew Auntie Merera well. She was very nice and often gave him small treats.

And with his approval, Kobe started staying at Auntie Merera's house whenever he came back from school. Auntie Merera's home was small but neat. She always greeted Kobe with a plate of food and a warm smile.

"Kobe, come and eat! How was school today?" she would often ask.

At first, Kobe felt a bit shy. But as time went on, thanks to her jovial personality and sweet stories, he became comfortable. Auntie Merera was exceptionally kind.

She would buy cartoons and other fun children's movies for Kobe to watch on her small television. Eventually, she bought for Kobe a Game Boy vide

15/12/2024

27/11/2024

Gold digger episode 2

26/11/2024

Storytime
Gold digger episode 1.
Watch and and learn.❤️❤️❤️

22/11/2024

Morning frndz
Happy Friday.

25/09/2024

Only God