There was so much noise in the outer court. The palace was never quiet but this commotion was unusual. Curiosity demanded that I left my throne-room to see for myself. Cold sweats ran down my spine as I hastened towards the noise with my guards in tow. My eyes were shielded from the burning sun but since I needed them to see, I parted the beads that dangled from my adorned head. I had always despised the excessive embellishments of the Adenla and how they always got in the way. But my frustration was nothing compared to the horror of what I think I saw! So in my distress, I ripped the crown off my head.
As the bejeweled king maker fell to the floor, the guards shrieked; Eewo Orisa! Abomination!
Was it for the crown’s desecration or from the scene playing out in the outer court? My senses became numb and my lips sealed shut; else the world would have heard my spirit shatter. Only my soul could feel and it was bleeding; it bled salty tears through my eyes. My mind was overwhelmed with questions.
Where had I gone wrong? How was I to care for the people if the charity didn’t begin with my children? All I did was love them and teach them to love. To think that the townsfolk envied the affection between the brother and his sister, it all began to make sense to them now. I watched helplessly as the envy transformed to disgust and their disgust became a channel for rage. The kind of rage that rendered a king powerless; by exposing my head, I forfeited my authority anyways. This rage drove the townspeople to bathe the lovers, stone after stone until they lay side by side, naked as they were discovered. Naked as the day they were born, laboring to take breathe their last.
I could see their mother, my only wife, rolling on the floor, her wrappers coming undone. I remember thinking; we are all exposed, doomed in this household. I looked at her, wide-mouthed with webs of spittle drawing a curtain between her lips. I saw the bulging veins in her throat as she screamed; begging the angry mob to have mercy in the name of Ìkúnlẹ̀ Abiyamọ. But the thud of their feet and their chants of àbùkù ní ààfin ọba! drowned out her wailing. I stood there watching everything I ever held dear disappear, as quickly as sand sifting through parted fingers. Alone and empty, I retreated to the throne room.
The nakedness, brown sand reddened with the blood of my blood, stones soiled with brain matter and the mangled form of their mother, trampled by an angry mob. These images blinded my eyes as I took the step and my feet departed from the royal stool, my neck nestled in the warm embrace of the noose. I didn’t care about the dishonor it will bring; there was no honour left in this household.
Author’s note: Hello Everyone! Thanks for reading! First, I would like to apologise for bailing on you for the last story of ST’ART. Life happened and I tried so hard to deliver but I couldn’t. I am so profoundly sorry. To make up for my short comings I present to you, the first PETAL with 497 words; AILOLA. I hope you guys enjoyed it and I will love to hear your opinions on what you think happened here. So leave me a comment, ask questions, tell your narrative. Come write these stories with me. Leggo!
Love, Rosie. (x0x0)