Folktails✔️

11•

F O L K T A I L S
•If Only•
Ikenna's mind laboured through the perilous process of pouring over the details he had come to know as established facts in the entirety of his life. It seemed impossible but his eyes had begun to behold the woman of his heart in a new light. Or was it darkness?

It was no new subject of wonder or questioning that spirits, gods and goddesses obviously existed in every realm of the world. What however would be a new issue was whether gods or goddesses lived among men.

It couldn't be, could it? Ikenna wondered as  he probed himself to the point of exhaustion, for which no answers were received. This seemed to cause his previous reasoning to falter behind the evidences that no gods or goddesses had ever been caught living out of their kingdom and realms by a human.

There had been great myths and stories, but no man had ever lived to tell the tale of their encounter with a deity. Yet the possibility that she wasn't human seemed to bother Ikenna even more than the fact that she was trying to seduce him half-naked.

"Ikenna." She coaxed as she pulled closer to him.

"Who are you?" Ikenna asked as each breath he took turned strained.

"I am Idemili." She smiled sweetly and he grunted in reply as the answer he had received was not the one he truly desired and neither had the question been addressed the way he wanted.

"I–" he started but was interrupted by the cry of a loud voice.

"Ikenna, the son of great Ikenga, the palace of Zoro calls you to attention. You are hereby immediately summoned by the authority of the palace. Failure to answer this call will lead to untold punishments."

"The palace?" Ikenna muttered to himself. There seemed to be something off in the message delivered itself.

Usually, the summoning of a man was done only with the granted sovereignty of the king. This time however, the call was made on behalf of the palace. The only reason that could be concluded was either the king was invalid or a plot was in place.

Ikenna supposed the latter. The king–although a good and honest man–was surrounded by disloyal and conniving chiefs who hid under seemingly flawless public facades in order to mask their unquenchable and blazing hunger for the throne.

"I must go now." Ikenna said to the beauty beside him.

"Okay my Lord. Go now. I will wait for you."

"I would expect you to go to the house of your father Idemili." Ikenna forced his tongue to draw and hold on to the name that sent chills down his spine.

"I would. But I must say my goodbye to you."

"Goodbye?"

"I will be gone for a while."

"Gone?" The word felt heavy like lead on Ikenna's tongue. Gone to where? He asked himself, feeling a great plague of dread melting through his skin. Suddenly he was perspiring as hard as he would if he was breaking through the hard sod in his farm while under the hot, blazing sun.

"Yes my Lord."

"Where to?" His tone rose higher impulsively. It was almost like his body was acting as well as reacting reflexively without his consent.