The Priestess.

The moist grass brushed the soles of my feet as I traversed the forest, wondering where I was and seeking a way out. Overhead, the crescentic moon shone unabashedly and appeared bemused by my confusion. The leaves rustled as I trotted and then broke into a run, the cold wind and the cacophony of strange noises filling my skin with goose bumps.

I saw light in the distance with sounds of drums and singing voices. Tearing through the obstructing branches and leaves, I stumbled upon a clearing. Suddenly, the drumbeat stopped and the noise died down. I looked around and my eyes widened in surprise. A crowd was gathered around a bonfire, the elders seated in front with their feathered red caps, staring at me. The drummers were covered in sweat and clutched their drums, watching me. Everyone was silent.

One of the elders approached, and circled me curiously.
"Ezenwanyi!" he called in a loud voice. Turning to the crowd, he spoke solemnly. "The Priestess has appeared. The last time this happened in Umuoshe was when the oyinbos first came to our shores."
Gasps of astonishment escaped from the crowd.
"Ezenwanyi, to what do we owe this visit?" he asked, facing me.
I opened my mouth to answer. Rumbles of thunder emerged. The crowd shreiked in horror, everyone falling to the ground and bowing in obeisance.

I toured the village in a carriage borne by four men with heaving chests. The villagers showered praises and gifts as I passed, littering the road with yams and crowing cockrels. I judged cases at the village square and healed the sick by rubbing them with potions made from squashed leaves I personally plucked from the forest. I rarely spoke. Whenever I tried, deafening thunderclaps emanated.

One evening, one of the young men called me aside.
"Ezenwanyi," he began, his voice faltering. "I need you to teach me the art of healing."
I marveled at his audacity. His name was Obi and I had noticed his lingering looks.
I nodded.

I travelled with Obi across the seven seas and seven lands to introduce him to the spirits. On our way back, I noticed blazing yellow flames in his eyes. Anything he looked at was set on fire.
"What has happened to me?" he asked, looking petrified.
"You have become lightning," I answered.

The next day, he gouged out his eyes.

©Kelvin Alaneme, 2015.
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