“Who walk in the comfort of the night? Show yourself or I will strike you with my spear, the gods stake me if I miss the first blow,” The hardened voice of one of the night’s guard bellowed. There were five of them visible by the gloomy yellow torches, which lined the two hands of the narrow road, driving the shadows behind the palm trees which also stood as pavement. One would be a fool to think that the five guards were all there is. No one knows actually, but stories have it that the night’s guard are hundreds, most of whom were hiding in stations where the eyes cannot see. Other stories have it that some of the night guards are spirit born, who do not take titles or household names. That they are simply born out of the mercies of the night, to protect the Ofor, which was and still is the mantle of leadership in the kingdom. All these stories, told to children, most of them told by parent or village raconteur, who probably have never seen a night guard all
It was the dimples on those smooth cheeks and the way she speaks that he admired the most. Those whistling words that are always soothing to a grudging heart. No, that was not it; she had acted rudely last night when he presented his humble proposal. Okay, maybe it’s a far-cry from her smile, maybe it’s the mortar of kindness lurking in her actions, mixed with that fragile baby looks, which always flush with her eyelid. She had winked at him last night hadn’t she? Maybe or maybe not or maybe I am being a goat head for thinking she would want anything to do with me again. Not after all these passing moons and all that had happened.The Prince heaved and steered on his bed, the fur mattress from Umumba clan was the most expensive and finest in the whole Kingdom, but beneath that softness, he could feel some stinging hardness on his skin which had nothing to do with the wooden frame of the bed.Somewhere outside a cock crowed loudly, announcing the
Ada sat down on the cold morning shore of Ogba River, with her clay pot underneath her morning glowing skin. She wished she could be angry about how things had turned out, but she wasn’t; she had been angry long enough that being angry now was quite difficult. The sadness within her wasn’t even enough to pull tears from the well of the lachrymal, even if she wanted to, the pool of tears was suffering a heavy drought. This time she sat alone with her conscience dealing terribly with her thoughts. The ‘What ifs’ and the ‘What should have been’ kept floating everywhere in her head. She wished it was just a single thought; at least a solution might be lying in wait.Over the horizon of the east and piercing the leaves of the numerous trees; as if mocking her to smile with its ray, was the yellow glow of the sun. The birds still rested in their nest but their silent songs could still be heard, atoned with the cricket’s crisps which b
“Thank the gods you’re here. I have been searching the world for you.” The Prince panted haggardly like a swimmer who hadn’t seen the shoreline until now. Nothing about his posture was welcoming, the crease lining his young face, mirrored the worries that were obviously building inside of him. For the wealthiest and the most adorable young man in the entire kingdom, he was rather dressed like a commoner, with the girdle of his sword rounding the small pelt on his waist, and exposing strong muscular laps, almost like that of a yam tuber. The three birthmarks on both sides of his chest, were almost fading, a contrast to the identical ones on his left upper arm. His hair had grown long or maybe she hadn’t paid attention to notice them before. Their dark rich color, suggested that water might have imbued them one or two times, but they remained rough as if the only comb they knew were the grace of the five fingers.“What do you want?” Ada
The screeching of metals against the edges of the stone door echoed noisily. The slaves constrained in bars of speaking chains were the first to pass through the gate, and the others followed behind silently. They had been walking for hours in a tunnel of stones but the entry into the gate, introduced an open environment of sand. One of the hefty men—about seven to eight feet—who bore the keys to the chains, snorted angrily and lashed out with his whip, at the little boy who had fallen on the rocky ground.“Get up you lazy fool or I will lash you with my sword,” the man scorned as the boy cried out in pain and struggled up to his feet but failed. The wimp from the other slaves—about fifteen of them—was the only thing that tried to stand up against the huge man and the boy. Nobody moved a limb; they just stared helplessly as the man continued to flog the boy with the horse whip.The other hefty men laughed and spoke in ton
The pale moonlight contrasted the color of the dark forest. It was wintry, but not at its best as to wake the hair on the skin. What should have been a quiet lovely rest, a journey to the wonderland—sheltered with the clusters of stars and grace of the full moon—turned out to be perturbed by the buzzing of insects, whose hymn destroyed everything pleasant about quietude.Ada slapped her exposed laps, and let her nails run through the spot until the sweet sensational feeling started to burn. Her smooth skin had now turned into a gritty of swollen and pulsing lumps that won’t stop itching. How many times? She wonders. It was so difficult to keep track of the buzz. She could hardly sleep from the irritating chorus of the mosquitoes, singing a noise to her unruffled soul. A song she would never, in an awoken state listen to. If only the bug could let her rest and bother some other animals. Soon it would be dawn and her journey would continue, but this bloo
Ada was not so certain; the image had come like a flash. She had seen the head of a black mamba snake, the type that would send a man on his heels. But, like a puff of smoke, it had vanished with the fog—the darkness of the path serving as a good camouflage. Maybe she was being paranoid; maybe the sleepiness night was getting to her, making her mind play tricks. Either way, she decided to trace her steps carefully, that was the best thing to do, at least, until the grace of the sun was golden enough.The beat in her chest was racing. It was as if her heart was immersed into her stomach, and the resilience shooting up to her throat. She couldn’t continue, though she tried convincing herself that what she had seen was not real. Everything within her protested against it. In Alaocha, people avoided the black mamba, as best as they could, because, a single bite could kill instantly. Its appearance was mostly perceived by the elders, as a bad omen—mostly death. A
Leaves and twigs crushed under the weight of the men who traveled along what should have been a sandy path, only that it was covered now with folios of dead petals, whose depth almost drowned the joints of their ankle. The noise complimented the scary screams of the wild birds and buzz of the insects, which meander in the dry hot air."My bones are crying out, can we just rest for–""–Not again Okwunta," Mbakwe bellowed. He paused in his wake and averted his blazing gaze to the stout man who was sitting on the leaf bed, with legs spreading out. Despite the shade provided by the numerous trees, Okwunta was bathed with the salty liquid, which was oozing out from his skin. "I have had enough of this. What lazy fellow are you? We rested our limbs not long ago.""But I am exhausted. Please, who has water left in their water skin? A little drop is all I need, to quench my desert throat."The bile tha
Leaves and twigs crushed under the weight of the men who traveled along what should have been a sandy path, only that it was covered now with leaflets of dead petals, whose depth almost drowned the joints of their ankle. The noise complimented the scary screams of the wild birds and buzz of the insects, which meander in the dry hot air.“My bones are crying out, can we just rest for—”“Not again Okwunta,” Mbakwe interrupted. He paused in his wake and averted his blazing gaze to the stout man who was sitting on the leaf bed, with legs spreading out. Despite the shade provided by the numerous trees, Okwunta was bathed with the salty liquid, which was oozing out from his skin. “I have had enough