By Ottih Onyedikachi
In the room, the two lovers lay down facing off each other. The girl, Iruoma is angry. Her heart is beating wildly and she can feel the stillness in the air. The trees are not blowing. She cannot hear their whistling. It is not unusual. The boy, Kingsley, eyes closed, rummages in his mind for an answer to give her. The dispute is still hanging in the air. He turns to face her back and feels her skin. She is a slim, soft skinned girl.
He runs his hands up to her tender face. Her face is oily and breathing slowly. He continues to her nose, then to her perfectly shaped mouth. He is longing for her.
Their relationship is barely four months old. They met in service. She is the girl who sitss down with an earpiece in her ears even when prayers are going on. She never stands up to sing or clap.
She must be an artist, he thought then to himself. She is slim, ebony, and she has a noticeable ass that jiggles as she walks.
When he talked to her and they became friends, he invited her over to his place. In the first few months, he was the one going over to see her where she lives in the town part of the local government. He had been asking her to come over to his Place of Primary Assignment and get to see where he is, too. Now, she is there, to find out something that broke her heart.
“Iruoma, please. Believe me. Nothing is happening between I and Eucaria anymore. I swear, Iruoma. I have cut off from her. Please. Say something to me please. I am yours. I promised you, and I kept to it. We were just having a conversation. There is nothing more to it.”
In a now teary voice, Kingsley continues, “I was just angry with you. That was why I chatted her up. Please believe me. I love you, Iruoma. I love you and not any other girl. I don’t want any other person. Please.”
Unbelieving, the girl turns now, looks at him incredulously and laughs wryly. “You love me. You love me Kingsley? Do I look stupid to you? Am I a joke to you? You love me and over a little quarrel, you go to text your ex? Jesus Christ! Are…”
“Keep quiet please.” She raises her eyes and faces him squarely, looking into his eyes. He notices a fiery glow in her eyes. It must be the illumination from the phone’s torchlight. There is a sudden rush of leaves flapping the wind. “Block her. Text her that you are with me now, and then block her. Now.”
He sighs, picks up his phone, sends a message, waits for the blue lines to tick, and proceeds to block the contact, Eucharia.
Iruoma relaxes, and then breaks down and cries loudly. The sound outside becomes calm. She is dragging him with another girl. She thinks in her heart to leave him, but she know she can not. Her heart will not take it. She wants him. She will keep him. And no girl would take this one she wants for herself. No girl.
Kingsley stays, not knowing if to hold her and console her. He also wonders in his heart if this is the girl for him or he is infatuated. He knows she feels genuinely for him. If not, why will she be this helpless?
He cradles her and rocks her slowly, still apologizing and asking her to calm down. He leans to clean her face and the passion set in. Their lips touch. The wind rushes outside. Her lips are soft and smooth. They lock instantly, breathing erratically, like balloons with too much air about to burst. He is hard under. He kisses her harder, craving to devour her. His big hands roam to the other parts of her body amidst gasps and moans and grabs. The lovers soon lock in a sublime embrace; at a time when eyes have retired for the night, creating magic. In the rush of the wind, the night owls hum a song for them, so neighbors do not hear the sounds from the passionate consummation.
The serpent makes his way to the center of the field, observing what is going on and making mental notes of the issues he would report back to his queen. The trees turn their heads and look at him as he makes his way through. Their eyes follow him. The serpent does not look at them. He is there to deliver a message across. Some of the trees feel angry, some disgust, and some contempt for him. To them, the water beings are greedy and selfish, wanting to have all the powers.
Some of the trees make up their minds quickly about what they are going to say to their king when the serpent leaves their midst. There had been little distractions moments ago. Something or someone had spurred them to reactions.
The serpent gets to the center of the field, heads straight to the king’s direction, strikes a pose, bows slightly and greets.
“Greetings, Abir. Greetings from my queen.” Ishtar says, head still bowed.
“Greetings Ishtar. Greetings to your queen. What brings you here?”
“I come to deliver a message, Abir. My queen wishes you to stay away from the being here in the village. We, too, felt her presence. She promises that if you allow her to take charge without any sort of interference, that when the being comes to us, she shall allow the energy from her to manifest to you, also. That she will, also, allow the energy being take your petitions, grant them, and more people will come to you. That is the message I come bearing, great one.”
The king tree replies in an equally calm tone, “tell your queen I got her message. Have a safe passage home Ishtar.”
“Thank you, Abir. Live longer.”
Ishtar turns and makes his way back to the river from whence he came. He has news for his queen.
To be continued…