Prologue

It moved quickly in the dark, brushing aside the leaves as it danced past quickly. Its silhouette was imprinted in their eyes when the luminous light from the moon reflected against its sharp movements.

"Hey! He’s gone this way!"

 It was a he. A definite strong he.

"Let’s turn left and block him at the next curve bend."

 He sensed their lie. It was time to disappear. The five men chasing after the runner collided into one another and collapsed, sweaty and out of breath.

"I can’t believe he got away again!" the man swore under his breath.

"We have to let the others know. They should be warned."

                The bodies of the islanders glistened from the protruding heat of the sun. They did not seem to be bothered by this and continued about their way. The dust from the ground stuck like a pest to the islanders' skins. The only time the dust moved was when it was propelled forward by the mighty push of the wind. Today was not one of those days when the wind would visit.

                An average height man, with average body size, average eyes and average thoughts walked in between the hustle and bustle of the surrounding people. He climbed up onto one of the multicoloured stalls which lined the dusty streets. The islanders began to gather around the average man with wonder in their eyes.

What news did he have to tell this time?

                The average man cleared his throat with an urgency which seem to demand respect from the eager listeners below.

"We chased him again last night, and we were hot on the demon’s heel. But we missed him!"

 A fierceness began to show in the average man’s eyes as he recalled the efforts of the lazy chase the night before.

"We need stronger prayers to be ushered. "

"This is not the time for jokes."

"If you want to be jokers, go somewhere else!"

"We need power! "

"This prince of hell is no joke! We must break this curse! I’m ordering that we all meet here again tonight. We shall pray this darkness away from here! "

                An effervescent chatter began to erupt amongst the islanders. Their eyes showed excitement, but their bodies were invisibly trembling in terror.

                Night had fallen with rushed attendance by its expectant anticipators. The islanders had gathered hesitantly, as requested by the average man. You could smell it in the air. These people feared what they did not know. The moon stood still in the sky, like a lonely solider. Its light reflected dimly onto the receivers below. The air was humid, and the inescapable smell of the beautiful, putrid noni tree filled the air. The noni tree had been in existence before many of the islanders were even bought into existence themselves. The locals could not deny that the noni tree’s fruit was definitely worth the unbearable scent. It could heal. It had healed. But the healing fruit was being stolen, and the fruit stock was dwindling. Soon there would be none left and the healed would dissipate as well. They had gathered with the hopes of protecting the fruit. The sour stench of the noni continued to perfume the air.

                A little girl with a simple pinafore dress on presented the average man with a green, bumpy fruit. It was quite large and oozed the scent of a fruit rejected.

This was it.

This was the healer.

The average man took the fruit from the little girl with great care and lifted it up towards the sky like it was a prized sacrifice.

                “This fruit comes from the last noni tree which is still producing. If this tree is damaged, nothing is left."

The silence hung in the air like a still gliding bird. This silence was confirmation.

                "Let us begin."

 The average man stood in the centre with the noni raised upwards. The islanders had formed a protective circle around him to drive off the evil forces which had filled the air.

                "Our Father, God art in heaven we come today seeking Your great counsel and everlasting help. We are here because we are losing, and we cannot afford to lose. We claim victory in Your great name."

                The surrounding crowd joined in reverent prayer with momentary periods of intense shouting in a tongue which was not theirs. The air became deliciously cool. The average man’s eyes popped open in surprise, and he became lithe and stealth. The islanders had not felt the tense change in the atmosphere and continued in prayer. The average man moved quietly like a master prey in the hunt. He danced tauntingly amongst the islanders, tapping their heads as he passed by them. They fell onto the ground, convicted by spiritual power they thought they didn’t have. The average man stood tall and proud like a peacock, displaying his more than average powers.

The laden noni tree stood limp but high.

Its leaves shivered as a light breeze blew.

The average man reached the noni tree in three quick strides.

This was it!

This was the moment he would reclaim the noni has his own.

He stretched his long dark hand delicately towards the plump, putrid fruit and gripped it off the tree.

It was soft and bumpy against his rough palms. A wide grin spread across his face as he became enthralled with the fruit.

He squeezed the noni and warm, rank, thick drops of juice slipped slowly from it and travelled in curled patterns down the average man’s arm.

He tilted his head back and squeezed the remaining juice from the fruit into his mouth.

This would satisfy him until the next feeding.

He turned around swiftly when he felt a rush of warm air. He noticed the small girl in the red pinafore dress. Her eyes were wide with wonder, and the average man knew her question before she voiced it.

He liked to hear them say it aloud.

Once and only once did he want to hear it roll curiously off their fearful tongues.

It always ended this way.

                The little girl lifted her head has she played with the tail of her pinafore dress and asked, "Are you him?"

Are you the Noni King?"