By Jessica-Ken:
The Princess left the palace and went to her friend’s place. Frightened by what she saw, she told her everything; how her mother had appeared to the King…
“You don’t say?”
“Ugomma, do you think I am joking?
“I am sorry, my Princess. I did not mean to offend you.”
The Princess smiled. “It’s okay.”
Ugomma asked, “But why did the King want to hurt you?”
The Princess replied. “I made him angry. Very very angry.” She twisted her lips. She looked away, placing a finger on her lips. Thinking about the White man she had fallen in love with, she blushed, and hoped for his safety, looking at her friend.
“Igwedimma?” Ugomma called. “Igwedimma, what are you thinking about?”
Igwedimma smiled. Her friend observed her for a minute before asking her if she was okay.
“I am in love, my friend. With a White man,” she remembered his name. Pronouncing it gave her butterflies, she rather had it in than let it out, making her friend wonder.
“Who is this man?”
“Williams.” She gasped as she said. “Oh, I should not have said. My Prince… hope he’s safe?” she acted as if she had gone insane.
“My Princess, are you okay?” Ugomma wanted to be sure.
“I am okay, my friend. Yes, very okay.” Igwedimma twisted her lips. She got up from the bed, and twirled, partly blushing. She jabbered and laid back down on the bed. “Oh, my Williams. I hope you’re okay?”
The White men weren’t okay. They had the weirdest feeling, and they decided to go back. “Maybe the Kingdom is not safe,”
“We’ll tell when we get there.” One of them said. They walked until they got to a crossroad, where an old man appeared.
“Stop! Where… are… you… going?”
The White men shook. “Who are you?”
The old man chuckled. “A question for a question, I see.”
The White men gulped. Harry, the youngest, drew closer—clasping The Word, he looked the old man in the eye and saw something his brothers couldn’t see. “This man is not from here!”
The old man chuckled, extending his arm. He beckoned to them to come, but they withdrew except one.
“Harry, come back!”
Harry moved closer. “He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High, shall abide under the shadow of The Almighty.”
The old man laughed.
“I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress; My God in Him I will trust.” Surely he shall deliver you from the snare of the fowler and the perilous pestilence.”
The old man grunted.
“He shall cover you with his feathers, and under his wings, you shall take refuge…” he turned to his brothers.
“Harry…?”
Harry remained. The old man transformed into a giant bird, and Harry raised his bible in the air, and said, “Oh, you demon from the pit of hell… you agent of Satan!”
The bird squawked.
“I command you to come down now. Down!”
The evil bird transformed into a vulture and fell back to the ground. “Who are you, people? What magic is this?” the old man was back to himself.
“It is no magic, old man. If God be with you, who can be against you?”
“No! I will not let you save the people. They belong to me!”
“No! They belong to the Most High God. The One who dwells on high. The One who is seated in the throne!”
“No! No! I will not let you defeat me.”
“Oh, be gone, old man. Begone!”
The old man screamed. He disappeared, and the path was made clear again; the White men continued their journey, and they asked the King to guide their way.
___
The Princess stayed in her friend’s hut until she decided to go home. She bid her dear friend goodbye and set off on her journey, back to the palace. She got there just before evening came, and found her sisters already there. “Sisters!” she saluted. “You have arrived.”
Her sisters hugged her and asked her if she was doing well. “Yes, I am fine.” Princess Igwdimma replied. “How is Nne?” Nne was their grandmother—a woman in her sixties.
“Nne is fine. Where is father?” asked Nkewa.
Their father was rolling on the ground when they entered. The Princesses greeted him and sat beside him.
“Are you well, father?” Ijemma the youngest asked.
Their father looked at them. He wasn’t seeing them but could tell they were the ones. “Where is your mother?”
The Princesses looked at each other. “Our mother?”
“Where is she?”