Mubita J Mubita | Updates

Death Day

Mubita J Mubita — Sun, 27 Sep 2026 14:53:31 -0400

It was a dark and stormy night as I made my way through the old abandoned mansion nestled near a river. The wind howled outside, rattling the windows and doors, making the entire house shake and feel as though it was alive. I shivered as I stepped into the mansion and was welcomed by fair darkness, immediately I felt a sense of unease wash over me.

I have never been in such a spacious mansion with squeaky floorboards and flickering lights. You could see the cobwebs in the corner and the spiders crawling on the ceiling. The chandelier above me was cracked, and literally hanging on a thin fibre line. You could hear the buzzing of the electricity as it transiently tried to light up the chandelier.

"Hello!" I called out aloud hoping to be heard. My voice bounced on the walls triggering distant chatters that sent shivers down my spine. "Is anyone there?"

Earlier that morning I received an invitation in the mail from my long-time friends to attend a Halloween costumed birthday party at BlueBirds mansion; and this was far from perfect.

For a moment I thought my tattered costume was somewhat too much coupled with a full life-like skull mask. My hands were covered with turmeric paste; that made me resemble a dead man walking. The turmeric sent a horrible stench wafting in the air.

"Alex!" I called out to the birthday planner, but there was no response. "Kimberly! Lucy!" I called out again.

The hallway was pitch black, I couldn't see a thing. Apparently, my costume was equipped with a lighter. I didn't think it would come in handy that day. I used it and managed to locate a peculiar lamp. It took me a while to breathe life into the lamp.

As I wandered through the dusty hallway looking for the party, my hand stretched out holding the lamp. I could hear distant whispers in the shadows and footsteps that lurked behind me. Ghostly chatters and synchronized hushed laughter echoed in the air. I tried to shake off the feeling of being watched, but it clung to me like a second skin.

Suddenly, a cold gust of wind blew out the lamp I was holding, plunging me into darkness.

"Who's there? I have a weapon and I’m not afraid to use it." I said in a tremulous tone, my voice echoing through the empty hallway. I clenched a fist with my one hand and stood in stance preparing myself for combat.

My palms were sweating, I couldn't firmly hold on to the lamp with my other hand anymore. My heart pounded against my chest, you could almost hear it-like drums playing in a concert.

I reached out my hand to steady myself against the wall when I felt something cold and clammy brush against my fingers. I recoiled in horror, only to see a ghostly figure standing in front of me. It was about the same height as mine. Apparently, it was clothed like me. Its glowing red eyes crept me to the bone.

"Welcome," it whispered, its voice echoing in the darkness. "We have been waiting for you..."

I stumbled back, tripping over my own feet as I attempted to escape. I felt my soul leaving my body. I was drained and unable to scream. It was as though my voice was sealed shut in my throat. My mind broadcasted blurry images that prevented me from any logical thinking.

"Hurry up, we'll be late," it said to me- extending its hand to help up to my knees. I collapsed...

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My Lost Diary

Mubita J Mubita — Sun, 27 Sep 2026 14:13:46 -0400

I sat at my usual table in a coffee shop, my fingers dancing nimbly over the keyboard of my laptop. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet scent of freshly baked pastries, and the buzz of conversation from other customers provided a soothing background noise.

As I typed away, I took a sip of my latte and, refocused on my writing. I had been working on a novel for months, and I was determined to finish it soon, I glanced in my diary and used some ideas and lines from it to spice up my characters and scenes.

But as I continued, I couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability. What if someone stumbled upon my manuscript before it was ready to be shared with the world?

I shook my head, dismissing the thought as paranoia. No one would bother with my writing, especially in a busy coffee shop like this. Besides, I haven't yet come up with a great title for my novel.

I took another sip of my latte and continued scrolling through the pages of the manuscript on my laptop.

Just then, Mardy walked in with her 3 obnoxious disciples. She is my high school nemesis. I'm still annoyed at the time when Mardy had spread rumours about me and caused a great deal of embarrassment.

Mardy and I had a complicated relationship, to say the least. We had been friends in middle school, but since high school started, we grew apart, and now, we were just frenemies.

I tried to conceal myself in the buzz of the customers but she spotted me and walked up to me.

"Hey, Kimberly. How are you?" she asked, trying to be friendly.

I reluctantly glanced up at her, and I could tell she was not in the mood for a friendly chat. "What do you want, Mardy?" I asked, my tone sharp.

"I love your new hair style," she said. But her face revealed that it was a tease. I concealed my anger and replied politely. "Thank you."

Mardy's eyes fixed on my laptop on the table. "What are you writing?" she said, snatching the laptop from my hands before I could react. "A little story? How cute." She teased.

"Give it back, Mardy," I said through gritted teeth.

"Why should I?" Mardy said. "It's not like there's anything interesting in here. Just your stupid little thoughts and feelings."

"That's none of your business," I replied, standing up from my chair. "Give it back, now!"

Mardy just laughed, and tossed the laptop on the floor. "Make me," she said, her eyes narrowing.

The other customers in the coffee shop watched us in shock. I could see others covering their mouths.

I felt a surge of rage welling up inside me as I gazed at my laptop on the floor in broken pieces. How I desired to punch her in the face, but I restrained myself from doing such a thing in front of the customers.

"What is your problem?!" I barked.

"My problem is that you always act like you're better than everyone else. You think you're so perfect, but let me tell you, you're not," she retorted.

I was getting frustrated with Mardy's accusations. "I don't act like I'm better than everyone else. You're just jealous because I work hard to achieve my goals, and you don't," I replied.

"You don't know anything about me, Kimberly," Mardy shot back. "And I'm not jealous of you. I have better things to do with my life than obsess over your achievements."

The argument escalated from there, and before I knew it, we were shouting at each other. I don't even remember what we were arguing about; it was all a blur. I do remember packing up my laptop pieces and storming out of the coffee shop leaving Mardy standing there with a stunned look on her face. I was feeling angry and hurt.

As I walked away, I could feel my heart racing and my hands shaking from the earlier experience. I knew that the argument with Mardy wasn't over, and that things were only going to get worse from here. But for now, I just needed to find a quiet place where I could calm down and collect my thoughts.

It wasn't until I got home that I realized I had left my diary on the table. I had been chronicling my thoughts and feelings for the past year, and the idea that someone might find it and read it sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn't believe I had been so careless.

The argument with Mardy had completely consumed me, and I hadn't even realized I had left my diary behind. It was the worst feeling, knowing that my deepest, most private thoughts were out there, for anyone to find....

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Falling

Mubita J Mubita — Sun, 27 Sep 2026 13:51:42 -0400

I stopped talking about it since the day I fell off the chair while trying to impress my mother. It was a regular thing that I did. I would look for a wooden chair and call out to my mother. Thereafter, I'd stand on it to show her how tall I'd grown.

My siblings thought it was silly. Sometimes, I too thought it was silly. Who would want to see something like that? But my mother didn't care, she never questioned it.

Every time I stood on that chair, she'd stop what she was doing and just watch me do all the silly things you could think about: standing on one leg like a flamingo or leaping like a frog.

I never really understood why she gave me that kind of attention. But her smile was charming, and warm, it calmed me down and gave me wings. I would gaze into her eyes, but I was too young to understand that I was looking into the window of a soul.

My habit grew stronger each time my mother praised me with her beautiful words. It made me do it on the seat of the bus while traveling long distances, at any restaurant while waiting for our food.

But time slipped through my hands like an hour glass. Each year, I stopped doing it, it pleased my siblings and encouraged them to stop teasing me.

On the other hand, it made my mother feel different. I saw it on her face when she would look at me, but she would try to hide it from me.

The last time I saw that face was when we went camping outdoors and I got lost for hours. She was relieved after she found me hiding under a log. I didn’t like the spiders or the thought of wild animals. But there weren't such things at those camps, it was just my siblings trying to scare me.

Another time was when I fell over the table. It was the last time I did it, because mother was the one who rushed me to a clinic. Luckily, I didn't break anything… at least, that's what I thought.

She never told me why she used to cheer for me, while my siblings rained on my celebrations.

Now, every time before I go to work, I stare at her portrait that I hung in the living room. It pumps adrenaline in my body. It gives me strength to start the week.

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2026 AARA Shortlist

Mubita J Mubita — Tue, 1 Sep 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Mubita recently got shortlisted for the 2026 African Authors Recognition Awards. The voting is currently ongoing, but the final judgment will be in October.

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