The moment she took her first breath, the world changed. The wind was high, the thunder stroke with anger and the heavens poured down like it was its last

the red moon was shining and the whole place echoed with strange voices mumbling inaudible words like a history was about to repeat itself

A tiny cry pierced. Her mother, exhausted gazed at her daughter with a face filled with mixed feelings and emotions with eyes that said nothing more than sorrow and pain and also a bit of joy.

As the old lady placed the baby in her mother's arms, a sense of pity washed over her. The baby's tiny hands curled around her mother's hands, her face white as snow like there was no blood in her, her hair shone like the red moon whose light shone through the window of the hut, her eyes like the morning dew faint, but sharp with lips shaped like an apple

The old lady went out to tell the husband of the woman that just gave birth about the arrival of their daughter, she called out to him in the cold and raining weather but no one responded she reached out for a light nearby and proceeded deep into the hut, her steps slow but steady the light on her hands shone brightly and the hut more colder as she went further inside.

A few seconds later a scream not so loud, but cranky was heard, the old lady screamed like she saw a ghost

Mandela tried to stand to but the pain of pushing her child was unbearable she held the walls and tried standing she failed on her second attempt but the screams of the old lady was so loud she managed and stood with her last strength.

She took the only light that was in the room and rushed to the inner hut to know what was happening, her heart pounding as she approached the old lady, and it was her husband cold and laying unconsciously on his chair still dangling front and back

She couldn't believe her eyes, her jaw dropped, and her teeth clenched tightly her husband healthy and full of life and hope was laying lifeless with a knife to his stomach.

Mandela's eyes widened in horror as she stared at her husband's lifeless body. The light in her hand trembled, casting eerie shadows on the walls. She felt like she was in a nightmare, unable to wake up. The old lady's screams had stopped, replaced by a stunned silence.

Mandela's gaze fell on the knife lodged in her husband's stomach, and a wave of nausea washed over her. She stumbled backward, her eyes fixed on the gruesome scene. The baby in her arms stirred, sensing her distress, and let out a faint cry.

The storm outside seemed to intensify, with thunder booming like a drumbeat in Mandela's ears. She felt like she was losing her grip on reality. The old lady, still frozen in shock, finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What...what happened?"

Mandela's eyes scanned the room, searching for answers, but there were none. She gently placed the baby on the bed, her hands shaking as she approached her husband. She touched his face, feeling the coldness spreading through his skin.

"No, no, no...this can't be happening," Mandela whispered, her voice cracking with grief.

The old lady slowly came to life, her eyes welling up with tears. Together, they stared at the lifeless body, unsure of what to do next. The baby's cries grew louder, piercing the darkness that had descended upon them.

As the storm raged on outside, Mandela's world crumbled inside. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of sorrow, with no lifeline in sight.

As Mandela touched her husband's cold face, her world went dark. She stumbled backward, her eyes wide with shock, and collapsed to the ground. The old lady screamed, rushing to Mandela's side, but it was too late. Mandela's body lay still, her eyes frozen in horror.

The baby, now unattended, wailed louder, filling the hut with a heartbreaking cry. The old lady, grief-stricken and shocked, held Mandela's lifeless body, tears streaming down her face.

The storm outside seemed to rage on, mirroring the turmoil inside the hut. The red moon cast an eerie glow, illuminating the tragic scene. The old lady rocked Mandela's body, whispering prayers, while the baby continued to cry, unaware of the devastating loss.

As the night wore on, the old lady's grief deepened. She gently laid Mandela's body next to her husband's, holding the baby close. The storm finally began to subside, leaving an unsettling silence.

The old lady's eyes, red from crying, looked at the baby, and she knew she had to be strong for the little one's sake. She whispered a promise to care for the baby, to keep Mandela's memory alive.