Literature: Onyinye

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Literature: Onyinye


From the Upcoming Book Pieces of  Reality.

By Hanamel Kingston Onyxstone.

With her hips swaying of its own accord, Onyinye cat-walked languidly past me in the village square, where the new yam festival was in full swing.
Sitting a few metres away from each other, our eyes would lock for moments before something got us distracted.
Perfect opportunity for me to seize the moment and speak up, or forever hold my peace.

As I stared at her for hours, everything manly about me took to flight, leaving me deserted. A little lost boy I became – powerlessly enchanted by her ethereal beauty, and gait of grace. Creamy caramel skin glistening like burnished gold, teeth sparkling with the shine of pure white porcelainic smiles. Firm breasts standing at attention. And then there was her magical hips again – spread out on the wooden bench, like a fertile valley – uncharted.

At the brink of giving in to my lack of courage, something snapped, warding off every strand of cowardice that initially had me possessed.
I drew close to her until I was within inches and whispered;
“Onyi the beautiful one – your beauty pleases the eyes and gladdens the heart. Kindly grant me privilege, to walk with you to the stream, where we can sit under the Udala tree, so I alone can have your attention, and reveal to you the nudity and secrets of my soul – bikonu.”

She looked me straight in the eyes and I saw trepidation. A brief stare that tarried for eternity, before her tongue came loose, shredding me to pieces.

“You’re Agu right? You’re that Osu boy, with whom all the maidens of Ihiala are forbidden relationship; lest Amadioha in his awesome wonder strike us down with seven silvery bolts of thunder. Be gone from my presence, outcast. Make no mistake to ever speak to me again.”

Each word tore through me like bullets, leaving exit wounds. My tear ducts gave way to a free flow, and I took to my heels, weeping as I ran.

“I would never be free of the osu tag,” I muttered to myself, as I sat downcast, by the edge of the evil forest, eyes wide shut in thoughts. Then I felt moist soft hands touch my shoulders, jarring me out of my silent reverie.

“Agu, I know you long to tell me about the majestic tempest of love raging inside you for me. Although this is an unpardonable taboo against the sacred dictates of Amadioha; yet I itch thoroughly for your comely words of poetry, to titillate my spirit and cause palpable flutters in my womb. Meet me by the stream tonight, when the moon is high in the sky. Damn Amadioha – if I die, I die!”


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