By:  Anthony .O. Godwin  Completed
Language: English
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all started like a little spark in her chest, and then it grew and ignited her whole being with an outburst of emotion. Before she could recollect herself, she found out that she desired him more than anything in the world. She was madly in love. Ada was a palace maid, the most trusted servant in the palace. The king loves and cherish her very much that he told her secrets that even the Prince himself does not know about. This led to conspiracy, anger and jealously. The bitterness of betrayer ate Ada up when she found out that the man she loves most in the world, had tricked her into disclosing the location of the Ofor, the mantle of leadership in Alaocha, and had stolen it.

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a very well written novel. it just starting but could already say this is a hidden gem. keep it up author-san!
2020-08-19 03:20:02
54 Chapters
Black coal Black scarBlack scaleBlack and lovely melaninYou are as tough as a coalLike a scar you have marked me a spotamong the cloudYour hardness has taught me hardship andendurance under the scorching fire of the yellow glow Black and lovely melaninYou made me weakYou make me strongYou made me sad
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 Her heart skipped a beat.The softness of his lips brushed on her hungry cheek and sent a chill down her spine. It clouds her whole body with an intense feeling that almost overpowered her. Nothing in the world mattered for she was lost in his arms, hoping above all that this fleeting moment would last forever. The desire boiling inside her threw her into this misery that she held him tightly, afraid that letting go would mean losing him forever.The night was formless and empty, too quiet that it let the thumping sound of his chest to cover the silent peace. She could make out his muscular features, not with her eyes, but with the trace of her body on his.“You said you will tell me about the Igwe’s Ofor today.” He whispered in her ear and pulled away from her.They still held hands but the slide distance separating them, created an agony in her stomach and she found herself pulling hi
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The men watched as the Diviner circled another series of dance steps. The beads, and cowries that clothed her, oscillated, and swerved in rhythm to the wooden gong that vibrated the serenity of the cold night, whose handler was a ghost in the scene. Sulugede, the dance was so-called. It was, it is and will always be the dance of the spirit.Drunk and possessed by the spirit of the ancestors, the diviner paused and started making gestures with her two hands. The numerous beads lining her wrist jingled with the cowries and both followed their wearer without complaint.The musical beat of the wooden gong has ceased and the diviner had also paused, listening to the air, trying to pay heed to their advice. Nobody spoke, nobody dared to speak, for this was one of those moments when the diviner and the spirit of the dead interact.“Let the child that wrestle with the father be put to shame” she began the incantation, with a voice which cracked
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Ada couldn’t help but smile. Her grip was steady on the broom but she was lost in her little world, to notice the rising dust and the cold harmattan wind. The pattern of her heartbeat had changed long before now. It always does whenever the thought of him pops into her memory.It’s been two days now, yet she still felt his hands strong on her waist, almost as if they were still there. She could feel that glorious tinkling on the back of her head and his words—which carries her world, to that rosy bed where the problems of the outside world could never be remembered—still echoes in her ears. His arms, ironed with battle scars, were unimaginably soft. The strength in them brought home that longing comfort that Ada couldn’t resist, but cling on to. How long has it been since she felt something similar for someone else? Never.Ada giggled when she remembered the first time they first met. It was at Ogba River. He had
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The day’s chores had eaten deeply into the evening, and now what was left from the light of the sun, tubes in any directions through the trees’ leaf and grasses, into the river, reflecting bright warm lights and faint rainbow colors. The melodies of the arboreal initially clouding the air, were now retiring to their nests, but the cold harmattan wind seemed anew and prevalent.Ada sat on the cold sand and watched in wonder as her friend immersed herself into the water again. Her head which was the only thing afloat, suspended the dark hair, like fine trends of delicate motile tentacles. Until fifteen to sixteen feet above the surface, the river was bottomless, but Chinwe always maintains her upthrust, like the professional she is. Female swimmers are rare in Alaocha; most people believe that unless one was gifted by the goddess of the seas and rivers— Idemili—they could not go to places in the river where the depth was cupped.The s
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The sound of the ikoro (wooden gong), percolated the quiet, pale moon night, following the cheerful cries of the people and giving warmth to the cold harmattan air. The dancers filed themselves in a single column, dancing to the melody of the beat. The jidida on their frictionless waist were shaking vigorously with their body, creating a vibe in the air, and life on the face of the audience. Naked children were roaming playfully and joyfully amid the cold, with the full moon smiling at them; a day like this could not be spent on the lone arms of the bed.The monarchs sat at the far end, spreading their subject with happy smiles, especially those who rained longevity and presented gifts to them. A pat on the back from the King’s Ofor, left those of them who hadn’t come this close to the king, to shower endless praise and thanks to the gods of the land, as if they had just been granted access to see the maker. The King’s cabinet members sat on a b
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A huge torch of yellow fire, as large as five average men placed on top of each other, lay resting now, on the center of the circle, to commemorate the blazing kindness of the gods of the land. The jamboree and songs of the people blast the night with melody. The drums, the Ogene (metal gong), the xylophone and every sweet talking instruments, played so well, that the burning woods joined the harmony as they gave out fairies of floating sparks. The festival had taken another turn as those who were not gyrating, were drinking or making bolus from the pounded yam, and swallowing the round ball, after covering it with the sauce of the egwusi soup. No running children to disturb the dancers, every one of them were busy gulping any edible delicacy they could lay hands on.Ada was tilting her head over the crowd, trying to find the loose black hair of her friend. There were oceans of black hair here, but she knew how to pick out Chinwe’s, from the crowd anytime. Just find the
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“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
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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
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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
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