Chapter 35: Valhalla Is Not Heaven

FIRST TIME HERE? NO PROBLEM – START AT THE BEGINNING – WARNING YOU WILL BECOME ADDICTED TO THE STORY.

…continued from 13 June 2026...

REMINDER: THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. ALL IMAGES ARE AI GENERATED AND HAVE NO BEARING ON ANY ACTUAL PERSONS, LIVING OR DECEASED.

Whitney van Jaarsveld was a happy little girl. Just four years old, she enjoyed spending time at home alone with her grandmother, during the day while her mother was at work at her job as a cashier at the local hardware store. Whitney, loved to laugh and run and she was excited to be going to big school soon. She had no idea how long it was going to take before she went to big school, but she was excited.

She lived in a suburb on the Cape Flats called Valhalla. The irony of the name of the suburb was lost on the inhabitants who lived there. Their daily existence depended on their ability to stay alive by not antagonising the entrenched gangs and a perpetual cycle of drug-fueled violence and fear. Many of them had no idea that Valhalla was the name for heaven in Viking lore, because their suburb of Valhalla was closer to hell on earth.

But when you’re born into a situation, you don’t know what you’re missing. And so it was that her mother, Jenny, was born into it, survived her teens, and became part of the ongoing statistic of unwanted teenage pregnancies. Like many before or after her, she too was abandoned by the father of the child. She continued to live with her parents in one of the rooms in the house, and to complete the stereotype, got her grandmother to essentially raise her child.

But Whitney did not mind. She was such a delight. Her grandmother was kind and gentle and would give her treats all the time which made her very happy.

But all of that was about to change in the most horrific way.

About two months ago, Jenny’s older brother, Justin came home after living away from home for a few years. He was sullen, depressive and miserable all the time. He mumbled something to his grandmother about losing his job and breaking up with his girlfriend. He was 32.

Justin, took occupation of  what the locals called a Wendy House, situated in the back-yard of the premises. A Wendy House is a small wooden construction akin to a big doll house, usually having several partitions depending the size of the structure.

He spent his days in the Wendy House, in the dark, sulking and brooding over his fate. He only ventured out to go to the main house to eat something, and he barely did that, which his thin and wasting body could attest to.

At night he came alive and would walk the streets, often meeting up with old school friends who were in the same plight as he was, or worse. Somehow, despite the abject poverty they were all in, someone always had money for drugs or alcohol.

 Justin was a crystal meth addict, or as the drug was known locally, a Tik addict.

Continued tomorrow 15 June 2026, before 12pm

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