Excellent 1970 words He Who Lives by the Sword... by Curly Girly Short story -- humorous contest entry

Willem (pronounced: Vil-em) de Villiers was born on a farm near the Elephant River almost eighty years ago. He was the eldest of six children who had all been raised barefoot, tough and rough. By the time he was sixteen, he was already an accomplished hunter. Rugby, beer and biltong were among his passions. He was a huge tall man, with a well-bronzed skin and muscles which rippled like that of an alpha animal. He had a large nose, dark shaggy brows and sported prolific hairy growth, right from his well-formed calves, up through the top of his open necked shirt and up to the dark, wiry beard on his handsome face. When he was thirty-one, he married a petite blonde named Irina, twelve years his junior. Several years later he was the proud father of four active children. Unfortunately for Irina, Willem considered child raising to be women's work. Willem needed space, so he began to hunt again. The call of the bush, the outdoors and the excitement of life on the fringes of danger were a part of his soul; it was a physical need. He was part wild man and part human. In the outdoors, he was his own boss; he was in charge and he made the decision over life and death, for he was the hunter. One day there was a loud rap on the de Villiers' front door. Irina went to open it and there stood two policemen. "Good day, madam. Are you Mrs Irina de Villiers?" "Yes, sir, I am. Is everything all right?" Terror clutched at her heart as she wondered if there had been an accident - a tragedy. Her hands were trembling in fear of the unknown as she gripped the door handle. "Ma'am, everything is all right. Please calm down. We have come to inform you that your husband has been arrested for poaching in the Kruger National Park," stated the policeman in a profound matter-of-fact way, which invited no argument. "Poaching?" She was aghast. Her eyebrows rose with sheer surprise, as her thoughts reeled from 'accident' to 'poaching.' That was the first big surprise in her married life, unfortunately more were to follow. Several weeks later Willem went to court and proudly told the judge that he considered his personal hunting grounds ran from the Limpopo River in northern South African right down to the Karoo in the south west. The judge was furious and almost suffered apoplexy at the arrogance of the man before him. The audience was stunned at the accused's response. An excited twitter rippled across the room. The judge rapped his hammer up and down several times and with an irate red face, he bellowed, "Quiet!" All in all it made for exciting headlines in the national newspaper the next day. The de Villiers were the gossip of the country. Irina was furious. The unrepentant Willem received many fines plus time in prison. The police led him away in handcuffs. They shoved him into the back of a prison ute. He scowled like a wild dog behind bars, glaring defiance as the vehicle trundled off in a cloud of its own dust. Back home, Irina had debts to contend with and an absentee husband. Life on the farm was difficult without him, but she did the best she could and seemed to get by. She made home-made preserves and sold them at the local farm stall and she took on baking orders for catering at the social club. She advertised for orders for sewing, which she did in the evenings. During the day, she did her best to run their cattle farm. She had to supervise the dipping once a week which was vital to keep the herd free from tick borne diseases. After his prison time, to get away from his irate wife, Willem started drinking at the local hotel on Friday nights. It was not long before he got into fights and was evicted from there. His life fell into a pattern of drinking and hunting, coupled with intermittent trouble from the police. He seemed to be in and out of court with assault charges. Anybody who picked a fight with him was guaranteed to come off second best. The bartender at the hotel was too afraid to deny him access, so he would have to wait for a brawl to break out before he could phone the police for help. Every week it was the same. It did not take long for the local hotel to get a bad reputation on Friday nights - all due to Willem. After fifteen years of strife and trouble, Irina knew exactly what to do. She was unhappy and she lived in fear of where it might lead. That night, with hands on hips, she told him straight out, "I want a divorce! I am sick of your trouble. I have had enough - I'm leaving." Willem went berserk. He punched a hole in the door and then with his bare hands, he pulled it off its hinges before he tossed it on the floor of the hallway. Irina's hands came off her hips as she backed away, with raised hands to cover her face, just in case anything came flying towards her. He pressed his face close to hers and told her to stay. She listened. She was a smart woman, so to pacify him, she said, "All right! I will stay - but you have to stop this nonsense. You need to calm down." Then she drew a big breath and emphasised, "I will stay!" There was a sudden calm after the storm. The next day, when Willem was out in the fields organising the cattle dipping, she packed her bags and told the kids to pack their bags too. They climbed into the car and drove to her parents' house. That same week, Irina started divorce proceedings. After several months of legal action and the lawyer's fees, the court awarded joint custody of the children and Willem was ordered to share half of his worldly goods with his ex-wife Irina in full settlement. She had things she wanted to collect from the house, but she had been afraid to go back until the court had given her legal access to return. Wisely, she decided to go with her father and brother as escorts, to collect her half of their old marital possessions. Willem was on the veranda waiting for them. He sat there, looking quite jovial, with his shotgun propped up against the wall and a mug of beer in hand. Willem was unusually friendly and invited them all to come through and help themselves to whatever they wanted. Irina had a sense of foreboding, but somehow she knew that Willem would not shoot them. Any possible regrets of her decision were immediately wiped away as she surveyed the wanton devastation of her share of worldly goods. Willem laughed as they gaped in horror at the carnage. Willem had taken the judge's words literally and he had sawn everything that they had ever owned, each item, cut into two separate pieces. He had used an angle grinder and every single thing had been chopped in half! Laughingly, with his left hand on his hip and the right hand sweeping across the debris, he said, "Take whatever half you want. It doesn't matter to me!" He had cut the sofa in half. He had cut each chair in half, the dining room table; each dining room chair was in two pieces, the curtains, the floor mat, the kitchen implements, the stove, the fridge, the television, her clothes, her jewellery, their pictures... Simply everything was in two separate pieces; all cut cleanly straight down the middle. Left and right. Irina walked away, close to empty-handed. She and her family never returned to that house. She had a strong character and was a resilient person. Two years later she found a widower with three children of his own and they got married. Willem never remarried, but he did get women. He might have been hairy and intimidating but he was so masculine, many women just couldn't help themselves - they found him overwhelmingly attractive. He was the eternal alpha male, the strong one, the wicked brute, the ultimate caveman who always made the kill and won the fight. Willem carried on with his hunting, drinking, brawling and bonking until he found the wrong girl. That skinny, ugly girl, Audrey, twenty-five years his junior, was almost too much to handle. She had small, dark, beady eyes which seemed to slide sideways. The deep furrows which creased her brow whenever she spoke were the only warning of a deeply troubled mind. She loved him fiercely, with the wild jealous passion of a headstrong pubescent nymphomaniac: so typical of one emotionally fragile, she was a time bomb just waiting to explode. And Willem liked her feisty character. He had killed elephants and lions - so why should he worry about a mere slip of a young woman? Audrey had driven into town for the day. Willem sat on his veranda waiting for the estate agent to arrive. He had not told Audrey that he was considering selling the farm. It was none of her business. Willem was pleased when the estate agent arrived almost on time. She arrived in a white Mercedes Benz, which she parked at the front. Introductions were made and Willem invited the attractive middle-aged women into his house. They sat together at the dining room table and discussed the various options available to him. Ten minutes later, Audrey arrived back sooner than expected. As she drove down the driveway, she wondered who the Mercedes could belong to. Willem was not expecting any visitors as far as she knew. Suspicions loomed. She was determined to spy on him, so she parked her car out of sight behind a large shrub at the side of the house. Stealthily she crept closer to the house. She could see an attractive woman sitting next to Willem. Instant jealousy ignited within her. Ah, she thought, that cheating bastard! She had been hurt before by men and she was not going to be hurt again. Her pulse throbbed wildly and her hands began to tremble with rage. Impulsively she sneaked into the house and went straight to Willem's gun safe. She took the hunting rifle out, loaded it smartly and walked straight into the dining room to confront him face to face. "You are a lying, cheating, bloody bastard! I've only been gone a few hours. How dare you cheat on me?" She seethed from between gritted teeth, as she aimed the rifle squarely at his chest. "I told you I would shoot you - dead!" Spittle sprayed from her mouth. Willem turned to look at her. He, the hunted, was now face to face with the hunter. One look at her eyes revealed her turbulent emotional state - he knew disaster was at hand. He stood up quickly, put his hand forward and said, "Stop! I can explain..." The warm South African sun was sinking in an orange blaze of glory, accompanied by the frenzied twittering of birds in pandemonium as they squabbled over their evening roosts, the twigs of a nearby acacia thorn tree in the hospital grounds. Dr Merensky was preparing to leave the small country hospital for the evening. A cloud of red dust in the distance grew larger, a ute with headlights on full beam careered into the grounds. It skidded to a halt and a pile of African farm labourers jumped off the back speaking excitedly and together they dragged out a body covered in blood. Emergency! Fifteen minutes later a team of medical staff stood, immobile, around the body. Dr Merensky pronounced the victim, Willem de Villiers, dead on arrival. Recognized

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