Folk Tales Africa Novels & Stories

“My friends, our journey is long. Let’s save this for another day, would everyone agree?” After a pondering pause, all heads nodded in agreement. “Now, I have a story to tell.” He scooped a blue powder and tossed it into the bonfire. “Once upon a time….” The flame burst again, but this time, fiery images of animals, humans, and landscapes appeared. From the Greek heroes like Perseus and Jason, the adventures of Thor and Loki, and to the African spider god, Anansi, which was our first time hearing it, every story he told was brought to life by the flame.

Tara remembered that she was still hurting, the pain of her parent’s death was still very raw, but for a moment her arrival at Orun Isu, a world of its own with gits reat beatific sights had taken her mind away from the pain. “Your Grandmother is the Matron of the witches,” Alake had said, taking her on a tour through the halls. “What does that mean?” Tara asked absentmindedly, looking at the strange sights around with innocent eyes; the moving wallpapers, the changing sceneries, the greens, the strange horses with horns like unicorns, and more. “It means that she is the leader of the witches in Africa, and you are her only blood now, her heir.” “But I don’t want to be her heir. She hates me

’ He sniffled. ‘Maybe I can find a way to fix that, too,’ I muttered, scanning the pages of an ancient, dusty book I’d found buried in Moon Chasm’s library. I didn’t find anything. There were old fairy tales, so old they barely seemed recognisable anymore, that spoke of affronted gods casting down their children and making the first wolves. Some were classic tales, like the one about three pups going too near a river and being turned into toads to save them from drowning; others were cautionary tales, warning young wolves away from humans and forbidding any sort of romances between us and them – all in a fun, rhyming sort of way, of course.

Every story had a moral to teach people, such as goodwill prevails over evil. For entertainment, stories were set in fantastic worlds. Even though folktales were for entertainment, they brought a sense of belonging and pride to their communities. The Solar Tribe had an amazing culture that treated women equally to men, they showed everyone was equal and everyone deserved to be respected, Their women were also blessed with long and curly hairs that always touched their backs. Killian thought about the tribe and laughed. To him, all those things they prided themselves in was hopeless. He wondered why the so-called special person would be in a tribe as lowly as Solar.

One of them is my own. Lola reads through a book of fairy tales she shows me a story about a woman that’s impregnated by a wolf. The story is written in a language I don’t recognize. I can only try to guess through the illustrations in the book what the story is about. All I can put together is that a woman gives birth to a baby that could shift into a monstrous, bloodthirsty beast. It slaughters entire villages on its own, insatiable for blood and carnage. “What does this mean, Nellie?” I ask.

If it couldn't survive on its own, then she would raise it over its lifetime. Hilda went to see Koklo. She couldn't touch its head anymore and could only look through a layer of glass. Koklo looked at Hilda from the other side of the glass. It was as meek as ever as it tried to push at the glass with its big head, appearing to headbutt Hilda's hand, which made her very sad. "Don't be sad. To it, Africa is its home." Nathan comforted Hilda, who smiled reluctantly. Yes, here, Africa is its home...

It was said that the cries of Ekwensu could make a living things run mad. Mbakwe was convinced. If the village storytellers were right, then the trees in this area would be dead as well, or perhaps running mad. If a tree can run mad. Sometimes he wonders how much of those stories are true. Where were those men when it happened? How accurate were their tales? Or are they just made up, to scare children who wouldn’t obey their parents? Howbeit, the silence of animals in this area seemed to testify the truth in the stories of the village raconteurs, but he wouldn’t forfeit his destiny because of some fairy tales.

"Y-your blood!? Do you mean with your dragon's blood? U-using that fairy tale method!?" "It’s not that dramatic, but I had to admit that it was a lot more complicated." Daniel stroked the back of his neck, looking hesitant to say this. "All these fairy tales have something in common: one has to kill a dragon and bathe in dragon blood if they want immortality, wealth, and a long life—whatever they wish. All humans thought so, but that is not how it works. You know, how many humans died after bathing in dragon blood, just like the fairy tales they believe?"

Everyone was making preparations for the festival. I worked with the rest of the workers before heading back to my mum's den. And as I did, I thought about all the wonderful tales my mum had told me about the festival. She had said it was a time when boundaries between humans and wolves were blurred, and those who were meant to be wolves would finally embrace their true nature.

Rose nodded and kissed her daughter even though she was still wet. "Anna's clothes are wet. Momma bathes first, baby. After this, Momma reads a fairy tale." Anna nodded. She loves to hear fairy tales or classic stories in ancient times. Making her imagination run, even more, Anna loves to fantasize. She has her picture of the Arandele kingdom, as her mother told her.