The Fifth Floor Conspiracy
By Dorrothy Moyo | ZimEye ~ The Fifth Floor Conspiracy In the heart of the capital, where power was never given but seized, the shadow of betrayal loomed over the 5th Floor Flats.
This was no ordinary building; it was a silent witness to whispered conspiracies, a place where ambitions were either realized or buried. At its entrance, Shumba, a frail old man draped in a Zimbabwean-colored scarf, trembled. His grip on the golden key labeled “State House” was weak, his authority slipping away like grains of sand. Before him stood Soko, a towering soldier with a cruel glint in his eye.
One hand clutched an AK rifle, while the other was outstretched, demanding the key. Behind them, a woman lay lifeless on the cold pavement. Her body, battered and broken, told the story of a war fought in silence. She had been more than collateral—she had been a message.
Soko’s voice rang out, sharp and unforgiving. “Shumba! The time for mercy is over. Give me the key!” Shumba’s fingers trembled. He had ruled for decades, outplaying rivals, silencing enemies, bending the will of the nation to his own.
But now, he faced the monster he had created. “Soko… but you have already taken everything… even her life.”
His voice was barely above a whisper as his gaze flickered toward the fallen woman. A sinister smirk spread across Soko’s face. “Ndogezwa naGeza! The sins of the fifth floor have been washed away. But do you think your crimes have been erased?” Shumba shuddered.
The fifth floor—a place where secrets were buried, where those who stood in the way of power met their end. He had ruled from the top for years, and now, he was being dragged down by the same ruthless hand he had once used to crush others. “Your time is over,” Soko growled, yanking the key from Shumba’s grasp. The golden metal glinted under the fading sun—a symbol of power stolen, an empire overthrown.
As the city of Harare bustled on, oblivious to the silent coup unfolding in the shadows, Soko turned toward State House, his grip on the golden key tightening. Shumba stood frozen, watching his legacy crumble before him. And the 5th Floor Flats?
They stood tall, retaining the blood stains from the brutality of yesteryear.