The cobra just looked at her, its face expressionless as any animal’s.
I will kill you and all the human beings around me, then. They cannot stay motionless forever.
“This is my home,” she said. “It’s all I have. They hate me and many times I hate them but I will always love them. I won’t let you harm any more of them!”
She could quietly read her favorite books. She could stand alone feeling outcast as her classmates socialized nearby. She could yearn for the love of her brothers, aunts, uncles, and cousins. She could look at herself in the mirror and wish she could smile with ease. And she could cry and cry for her deceased father. But she couldn’t bear the idea of seeing the people of her town killed by this beast.
The snake beast’s eyes bore into her and she shuddered. But she didn’t look away. It brought its face, slowly, gradually, dangerously, close to hers. Then it stared. It smelled acrid and sweet, like flowers growing in a chemical spill. It opened its mouth so she could see the fangs from which the poison shot. Ozioma was screaming inside. Her skin prickled and the rain falling on her felt like blood.
Still, Ozioma stared back.
Who are you?
“Ozioma.”
Who are they?
“My people.”
They hate you.
Ozioma flinched. “The fact remains.”
You have no respect. Even now, you look me in the eye. Even now, you SPEAK to me. I may burn the meat of your head to jelly and force you to feel every part of it.
“W…why do you want our tree?”
I take what I choose. Just as I have taken that man’s life.
Ozioma didn’t turn around to look at the man who was probably not in pain anymore. She held the snake’s stare. She had a feeling if she broke its gaze, all was lost. “But you came from the sky.”
This tree reaches high. It touches the spirit realm. I want it.
They stared. How many minutes had she been standing there looking into the soul of this beast? It was still raining warm drops. She could see the men with her peripheral vision. How long could they all hold still?
You are more like me. Step aside. Let me finish them off when they can stand it no more.
“I will fight you,” she insisted. But the longer she stared, the more Ozioma could feel her nerve slipping.
You have no poison.
“I have hands.”
It will be a quick fight, child.
“I’m not a child,” she angrily said, her resolve momentarily strengthening. “I am twelve years old and my father is dead.”
The snake inched closer, its lipless maw touching Ozioma’s face. Even in the warm rain, its flesh felt dry and cool.
If not a child, then a weak adult.
It gave her a sharp nudge and she couldn’t help herself from stumbling back, her bare feet squelching in the mud. The creature had felt solid and heavy, a million pounds of powerful muscle and sinew from the sky. All the strength she had drained from her like spilled water. She’d broken its gaze. She’d lost. She was done for. They all were. She dug the heel of her foot in the mud, preparing to flee.
The rain began to fade. Ozioma glanced up at the sky as the deluge dwindled to drizzle. The clouds suddenly broke above the tree and even the snake looked up. The men who’d been unmoving for several minutes, took the chance to quickly scramble away. Some of them hid behind the tree, others behind houses and nearby bushes. By this time, several townspeople had gathered in these places, witnessing the whole thing.
Ozioma, however, stayed where she was. Looking, as the giant snake did, up into the break in the clouds above.
Something was spiraling through the rain like a fish through coral. She had the body of a snake, a strong feminine torso and the common face of a market woman. Ozioma fell to her knees, her mouth agape as several other people gasped and pointed and called the approaching goddess’s name.
“Aida-Wedo! It’s Aida-Wedo!”
“Oh my God, Ozioma has angered the goddess!”
A rainbow broke around Aida-Wedo as the rain completely stopped. The clouds rushed away like fleeing dogs at her approach. The rainbow spilled and arched over the tree.
The goddess flew to the chain, grabbed it with one hand and shimmied down to the tree’s top. She wrapped her green-brown lower snake body around one of the thinnest branches as if it were the sturdiest. She leaned to the side to get a better look at Ozioma through the tree. Even her dark brown upper body moved with the power and control of a snake. Her large br**sts jiggled like ocean waves.
“This is a fine tree,” she said in a rich voice that probably carried to all the people in the area hiding, watching, and listening. She pointed at the snake beast and it immediately returned to the tree and began to ascend. Ozioma let out a relieved breath and slowly stood up.
When the beast reached Aida-Wedo, it leaned close and spoke to the goddess. Ozioma could hear it whispering, but she was too far to understand its words. The beast paused, looking back at Ozioma.
“Ozioma Ugochukwu Mbagwu, do you know who this is?” Aida-Wedo asked.
“No,” Ozioma said.
“This is Ekemini and he is one of my people.” She laughed knowingly and the rainbow in the sky swelled, bathing everything in a marigold, tangerine, soft rose, periwinkle, and wooden green. “And my people are powerful and rather…unpredictable. Do you know that you are fortunate to be alive?”
“I didn’t want it to kill anyone else,” Ozioma said, hardening her voice. She motioned to the man who’d been writhing on the ground. Indeed he had stopped moving. Ozioma still couldn’t see his face but it didn’t matter. There was no one in her town she didn’t know and who didn’t know her.
The goddess said nothing as she appraised Ozioma. Ozioma stood tall. She’d just stared death in the eye for ten minutes. Even the goddess had implied it. Ozioma felt like a goddess herself. What was death? She met the goddess’s stare, but then, out of respect, she looked down. Her father taught her that she should always, always, always, respect her elders. And what was older than a goddess?
“It says that it is impressed with you,” Aida-Wedo said.
It has a funny way of showing it, she thought. Was it not about to kill me?! She said none of this, of course. It was best not to tell the goddess what she thought of the beast who’d just killed one of her tribesmen. Ozioma was still looking deferentially at the ground when she saw the first one drop into the mud. She gasped, her eye focusing on it. She bent down, picked it up and washed it in a nearby puddle. She held it to her eye. A piece of solid gold shaped just like a raindrop. In the goddess’s rainbow light, it still shined its bright perfect gold. Another fell, then another. None hit Ozioma, and hundreds covered the body of the man who’d died.