Apostle Royd The Kingdom Writer

Title: The Blank Bullet: A Cold Dish of Revenge

I danced at my husband’s side chick’s naming ceremony. I sprayed them with money. I ate the Nshima and village chicken. But inside my bag, I had a gift that would end the party.

They say "Fear Women," but honestly? You should fear a calm woman.

My name is Yapoka. I have been married to Royd for six years.
Six years of "God will do it." Six years of his mother calling me Ng’umba a barren woman because I couldn't give them a child. I took all the insults.

I drank the bitter roots from the village. I went for every deliverance service in Chilenje.

So, when Royd walked into our house in Avondale three months ago with a young, pregnant girl named Khumbuso, I didn't scream.

"Yapoka," he said, puffing his chest like a peacock. "This is Khumbuso. She is carrying my son. Since you have failed to give me an heir, Khumbuso will live here. She will give me what you could not."

I looked at Khumbuso. She was young, maybe 22. She was rubbing her stomach and chewing gum, looking at me like I was a maid.

"You will cook for her," Royd commanded. "You will clean for her. She is carrying the King of this house."

My friends in Rhodes Park told me to leave. They told me to sue him. They told me to burn his clothes. I told them, "Calm down. Let us watch the movie."

I became the perfect fool. I cooked Khumbuso’s favourite meals. I washed her maternity dresses. When her feet swelled, I massaged them with warm water.

Royd was laughing at me. "You see?" he told his friends over Mosi at a bar in Kabulonga. "A woman who knows her place is a blessing. Yapoka knows she has expired."

Khumbuso gave birth last week. A bouncing baby boy.

Royd almost ran mad with joy. He bought a whole cow. He bought matching Chitenge for the whole family. He named the boy "Mubanga," after his late father.

The Naming Ceremony was yesterday. The yard in Avondale was full. Royd’s mother was dancing, casting bad eyes at me.

"The dry tree has been put to shame!" she sang in Bemba.

When it was time for the gifts, I stood up. I was wearing my best Swiss Lace and expensive gold. I looked like money. I walked to the high table where Royd and Khumbuso were sitting with the baby.

I picked up the microphone. The DJ stopped the music.

"My husband," I said, smiling. "Congratulations on your heir."
Royd grinned.

"Thank you, Yapoka. I hope you learn from Khumbuso."

"I have a special gift for the baby," I said.

I pulled out a large, brown envelope from my bag.

"Six years ago," I started, my voice clear, "Before we got married, we did some tests at UTH. You didn't go to collect your results because you were 'busy' at the office. You asked me to collect them."
Royd frowned.

"What are you talking about?"
"I collected them, Royd. But I hid them because I loved you. I didn't want to crush your manhood."

I opened the envelope and pulled out a medical report.

"This is a diagnosis of Azoos***mia," I announced.
The crowd went silent. You could hear the wind blowing through the trees.

"It means 'Zero S***m Count,' Royd. You had Mumps when you were 12 years old. It destroyed your factory. You have been shooting blank bullets since 2018."

I turned to Khumbuso. Her face had turned ashy. She looked like she wanted the earth to swallow her.

"So, my darling husband," I continued, "If you have zero s***m? And Khumbuso has a baby?"

I looked at Royd’s best friend, Jide, who was sitting in the front row. Jide was sweating like someone who had just run from Lusaka to Kabwe. He was shaking.

"Maybe Uncle Jide can explain why the baby has his exact nose and forehead?"

The silence was heavy.

Then Royd let out a sound—a scream of a wounded animal. He grabbed the paper. He read it. He looked at Khumbuso. He looked at Jide.

I dropped the microphone. Boom.

"I have packed my bags," I said off-mic. "The house title is in my father’s name, so you, your mother, and your 'heir' have 2 hours to vacate my property."
I walked out of the gate while Royd was lunging at Jide’s throat.

I am currently in a hotel in Livingstone, watching the Victoria Falls, eating grilled bream and drinking a cold "Fearless."

My phone hasn't stopped buzzing. His family is pleading. They say I shouldn't have embarrassed a "big man" in public.

But tell me the truth. Did I go too far? Or did I just serve him the breakfast he ordered from the menu of betrayal?

By Apostle Royd The Kingdom Writer
The Kingdom 👑 Writer ✍🏿
Spouse Of The Holy Ghost
I'm a Force To My Generation

The Secret to accessing God is Brokenness

A broken man is a man who doesn't believe and trust in his wisdom, capacity, strength and ability

A broken man is a man who is poor in spirit

A broken man is a man who understands that he needs the assistance of a spirit to live

A broken man is a man who doesn't have confidence in his flesh

A broken man is a man who doesn't live for himself but lives to please a Spirit and fulfil the great purpose that is in the heart of a Spirit

A broken man is a dead man

A broken man is a man who doesn't have a will or a choice anymore

If you aren't broken God can entrust you with the Secret

You know how far a man will travel in the spirit with Elohim by the state and level of Brokenness he has

If you want the kingdom to be yours ask a Spirit to break

By: Royd Mitch Phiri Apostle Royd The Kingdom Writer

Coming up this week!
By the grace of God, I’ll be joining Evangelist Emmanuel and his wife Mrs Gyamfi on the mission field as we send the Gospel to the people of Akim Ofoase in the Eastern Region, Ghana 🇬🇭.

If you’re in Akim Ofoase or anywhere around the area, don’t miss this life-transforming crusade. You will never leave the same.

Support us in prayers so that many will come to Jesus Christ. Check the flyer for full details.

Akim Ofoase will see Jesus!


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