"He hath set in dark places, as they that be dead of old."
(Written).
(Edited).
×{Location: ... Naijiriahr
NSA mber}×
***
She stayed in her cell, her tal cage, for gods knows how long. Days? Weeks? Months? She didn't know.
She had lost count after the Afo Market Day, making her tallies marked by a small but sharp stone, back-dated. She stank, and the sll of piss and whatnot perated the air, which made the cell reek of the stale air of her... businesses.
She hadn't been eating, except for the little snips of watery lon soup accompanied by molded garri given to her, and although it was barely a al, she took it to regain a bit of strength, that she had lost. Luckily for her, on the market day, she was given akpu and okro soup alongside a little piece of at (if it could be considered one in the first place), to eat.
She sighed as her eyes road around the cell, whilst her mind tried to wrap up her current predicant.
Her chocolate skin was now dirtied by the sand and dust from the tal cage, and her — forrly sharp — bubbly eyes were dull, almost dead; not seemingly having the life-like characteristics it used to possess. Her plumpy cheeks and eyes were now sunken, making her now chapped lips more prominent.
Her hair...
She frowned and her lips habitually arched downwards when she pulled a stand of her hair to her view. Her silky hair seed like it had fallen off like a tree that dried during the harmattan season or like a barren land, thus, her forehead looked more protruded. She resembled those old won who were mocked by children when they were passing by.
A hag!
A witch?
Her brows folded when she tried to rember what they called them in her native tongue, but then again, when was she ever fluid in speaking her native language?
Amunsu!
Yes! That's what they used to call it; she resembled an amunsu. She shifted her hands and legs uncomfortably at the unpleasant thinking of being labeled amunsu, making those chained parts jingle and produce a clunking sound. Her bony fra-like hands dug into the soil and rose out again carrying along with it sand, as she watched with her dull eyes, the sand slipping from her hands.
‘Oh! How I have fallen‚’ she wallowed to herself.
She was a shell of her forr self. The truth hit her hard, but she had no other choice than to accept it. There wasn't anything she would do that could reverse this situation, although she hadn't been given a benefit of doubt for any chance of a silver lining. They said that amid a bad thing cos a sliver of hope, well that's not true, at least, not for her. So things happen to soone, to make 'em lose faith. She'd heard about that kind of sayings — those kind of horrible stories — but now she had to believe, after all, she was going through it.
~***~
The half-moon stood high and proud indicating that it was still nightti, but her clan was very much active. The children were playing with sticks, others were making shadowy shapes with their fingers, while so were listening to the Abu that their elders' told them, but that all stopped when they crossed the boundary and entered into their territory.
The won stopped and pulled their children to their chests, guarding them against the people who dragged the bruised and battered female. Guarding them against her.
The n paused, looking genuinely confused until one stepped up with courage to ask what had happened, but he was shoved down roughly by a hefty warrior and landed on the muddy road. The aged-looking man got up looking embarrassed as muddy water dripped down his stained shirt, and the children laughed at what they had seen, pointing fingers at the man. She couldn't care less about the man; after all, she had her problem and she wasn't a saint to simply care more. A bulky man with war marks marred on his body giving him a frightening aura, stepped up at the fact that they had stopped.
‘Ti was of the essence,’ The bulky man thought, a vein popping to show the agitation on his countenance. They had to et their Chief to hand the girl over, so he shouted with spit spewing out of his mouth like a mad dog, “What are ya looking at, huh?! Get going or you will be in her place sooner than you'd think!” Imdiately, everyone scrambled about, to avoid further angering the man.
The won hugged their young on's to their bodies, guiding them away from the intimidating group, while the n just acted like it was none of their business.
The warrior n dragged the rag-dolled female — using lighted lanterns — to a large, open space-liked building, with walls made out of bamboo sticks and a roof, which was designed with that of palm fronds. And although it was primitive, it was still artistically and beautifully made.
The King's obi.
They pushed her through the entrance without a door, and she tumbled down before a slightly aged man sitting on a throne that was covered with animal skins. Two guards, wearing a skin that was only wrapped around their lower region, leaving their upper bare to the moon's glow, stood by each side of the man sitting down as they fanned him. The fan looked rather traditional as it was in a round, rather circular form, woven and covered in tiger skin, and its handles were made either of an iroko tree or mahogany wood bark.
The n who dragged the female prostrated by simply bowing their heads deeply, while others bowed their heads and knelt on a knee, palming their fisted hands across their chest so that it was resting on their heart, as they jointly chorused “IGWE!!”. This prostration was very sacred and it was perford by those whose parents had given up their generation to the King to serve the Igwe and his family lineage. This vow is bounded by a "dibia" that was chosen by their god, using a blood oath...
A/N: We'll continue that information later. Let's get back to the story, ok?
“You may rise,” The Igwe said, and the n all stood up. The female who forgot her predicant, on hearing the Igwe's words, wanted to stand up along with the mature n, but one pressed his hand painfully on her shoulder forcing her to remain kneeling. She struggled; alas, the man's grip on her shoulder didn't waver but rather beca more forceful.
“Is this the female? The one that committed that atrocity?!” The Igwe asked the n, waiting for one of them to answer.
“Yes, Igwe...” A man with tanned skin under the lantern's fire, as a result of working constantly under the sun, answered with a bowed head making sure to drag the entitlent of his King because of the respect that ca along with it. “Hmmn,” The Igwe humd and he nodded his head at the unnad man's answer. His eyes glinted in the dark, of knowledge that only he knew of when he looked at the female.
“Guards!” Five more n that was hidden in the night behind the building, ca out at the Igwe's call.
He looked at her, and said those words that could have either given her hope of being forgiven the next day or that could have ended her; “Take her away to the cell, until further notice. After all, there's nothing good that will co out of her filthy mouth, that she has to say to her justification”.
The guards, at his words, hoisted the female up and they walked to her cell.
When she heard those words, her legs gave up on her, giving the guards no other choice but to drag her there. She turned back, as a glimr of hope sparked within her, and she began to shout; began to plead for her actions. She couldn't help but love him. The n snorted with disdain, not wanting to believe the lies that she would spew to save herself.
The guards continued to drag her against her plea to be freed. She continuously looked back to see if they had a change of mind, only to see that there was none.
She had lost all hope... They hadn't given her a chance to say anything. In her midst of panic, she began to talk gibberish, trying to make them have an audience with her, but they had snorted at her!
‘Nothing good... Filthy mouth...’
These words were repeated over and over again in her head, as the female was being pulled towards her doom.
They'd already sealed her fate in their mind. There was no hope for her anymore. They suddenly stopped moving, and when she glanced up, her pupils shrunk, and she gasped incoherently. Her heart drumd against her ribcages with panic, and disbelief, but mostly fear. It seed like minutes when she beheld the cell, but it was just fleeting seconds...
Fleeting seconds for her male to leave her.
Fleeting seconds to be taken to the Igwe's palace.
Fleeting seconds for him to make that judgnt upon her.
Fleeting seconds for her to reach and behold her confinent.
They threw her into the cage and a man stepped inside with her. She looked up at the man, who chained her hands and legs together at her mont of distraction. The man imdiately went out of her confinent and shut it closed permanently until when notified that she was to be brought before the Igwe again.
She stood up and ran to the bars of her cage, holding the steel tal with a hand as another hand was able to slip through the cage bar. The chains clinked against each other at her action and also limited her hands from stretching further beyond the bars. Tears stread down her face silently as she saw them retreating from her view, but no sound was heard from her trembling lips.
It was just fleeting seconds as she was thrown in there... Into her tal cage, which sealed her fate.
***
The clock is ticking...
The dried-up, bone-like female said to herself, and her lips maniacally twisted up at this dark thinking.
Oh!! It's just a matter of ti. A fleeting mont more.
Her sadistic smile suddenly changed into that of a sad one, with her bottom lips wobbling as she tried to keep those raging emotions at bay.
******_******
Do tell what you think, or you can tell if you have any questions. But... No spoilers for you!!!!🤐🤐😣
For clarification in this chapter, it started with a '***' which ans that she is still rembering what had happened in the past. Then it switched to '~***~' which also ans that there is another flashback, one that is telling us how she ended up in her tal cage. Then the '***' at the ending indicates that those words were what she thought of as she had stayed in her bars for a long ti, i.e. the reference above.
That'll be all for now... Toodles!
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