Near — Chapter 2 (some details missing
“Wild,” whispered Blee, to her Basil plant in her solarium room in Ood’s second palace in the city of ( ). “Reenk, what do you wish to be paired with?” The plant bristled.“Sauce,” She heard.“What sauce?” She countered.“Tomatoh,” It squealed. Blee huffed.“Okay,-?” A pause. “And? At least five other herbs, right?”“Nope!” Came the reply, and Blee shook.“Wha-? Nothing else?”“Nope! Just Chee!” Blee’s eyes squinted.“Qi? Energy? What thoughts or prayers-““No! Chee! Cheese!”“Haha, whaaa- just you, tomato, and cheese? No way that can even remotely taste good-“ The glory light permeated her windowed room, servants were bustling about, swiping the leaves of benson trees and palmettos. In the distance, a clearing bell rang and directed Blee’s attention back to the plant from a conversation she had with her best friend, Ohm. The conversation went like this:“Bleeh,”“Whaaaa?”“Bleeeeeeeh!” Ohm grumped, trying to jump from elm branch to oak, losing sight of their bestie. She was sprinting ahead, about two stories up and Ohm was more afraid for himself than for her, as he rolled his eyes. “How do you keep doing that?!” He thought to himself, not wanting her to feel too puffed up with pride. She, of course, could see his thoughts with her minds eye, but she kept that knowing from him psychically, even through movement so he would still want to play with her. She eyed a rope swing that was just a few grasps away and smiled slightly. In their favorite patch of jungle the jaguar named Kaia looked up at her peers and rowled while a congregation of toucans tusked approvingly. “Kaia said she could catch up and eat you!” Ohm mocked.“No she didn’t!” Yelled back Blee. “I got you on the first swing!” She hollered while timing her jump off the high branch perfectly, grabbing a rope that was attached to the top of a sturdy ( ). Ohm was a twenty-nine year old servant of Ood, in charge of washing and handling the linens and scrubbing oakwood floors. They first became soulish tryst pals when they realized that they could write silly story games together, Ohm providing the framework and Blee being the writer and figuring out the small details.“By the second swing you will realize!” Called out Ohm, “One thing you already know!” He said in haste, not wanting her to miss his urgency. Blee stopped, balancing on a high beam branch, grasping the rope with both her hands. “Sister India is still calling out to you, Zayzee!” He sang, holding his breath, not wanting to address the elephant in the room. She balanced at a right angle on the branch, swaying on the rope, and closed her eyes. After about twenty seconds of silence, he spoke again.“The Islamic army — may not still cross the desert. That letter-“ He breathed, and she shut her eyes in a tear. He breathed again. “That letter, that offered a peace treaty should you be their, uh, ahem,” He hesitated, and Blee spoke quickly.“Their concubine.” She gulped. He ran on a branch tenderly, shaking the leaves, his arms out, then jumped oblongly and landed directly on the trunk of the tree she was balancing on, his arms and legs grasping it as he landed on it and started shimmying up. Blee started crying, sobbing, and after a bit of struggling up the trunk, (dropping down, losing his grip), saying “oh! Wait, hold on-“, grasping a branch with his right hand and swinging awkwardly as she continued to cry, he huffed. “Okay, I’m coming right up there-“ he growled and after about two minutes of struggle he pushed himself up to her limb and put his head on her shoulder.“If they defeat Emperor Dawit’s forces in battle- *snif *sniff — I will be their first conquest. Damn it all!” She cried out. “Why did I ever decide to travel to Greece to (produce, show) my scientific findings on roots! I could have pretended to be a man,” She cried, “If I was in any way intelligent at all!” All tears.So now, as she was talking to her basil plant, who didn’t seem to mind that her mind wandered during their conversation, she felt safe among the arboretum greenery, as everyone knew that their (city) was safe as long as the cease fire treaty was still intact with the Moors, with the allure of an actual peace treaty lingering over their heads as long as Blee gave herself over to the Arab attacking forces.“Blee!” A female servant called out, brushing against her in the tight quarters amongst the flora. “You mind wanderin again?” Ilia murmured, stacking tasks in her mind while trying to detach fears of the war surrounding, her children. Her children, Deus and Mim, were quite afraid of being dismembered and flayed by whips and other torture devices they heard the adults whispering about. “Do you need some watermelon juice?” Ilia offered, to much silence and concentration. “Hello?”“Yes? Sorry- what were you saying again?”“Watermelon juice. We have some on reserves-““Oh! No, Ilia, Im sorry, I am just- heh- having a time,” Ilia nodded.“We all are. There aint no rest for the weary, and to count it all joy when we meet trials of various kinds, for of course the testing of our faith produces steadfastness, so we may be complete, as the good book say,” Blee nodded, a tear in her eye.“Yis, I know. God is merciful.” She sniffed. “But I just don’t know whether I should stay or should I go-“ She heaved, and Ilia gave her a tight hug.“Ya know, your father wants you to play the ( ) for the October feast. You like? You think you would still be here by then-?” Blee heaved again.“What? How?! The Moors must know of our feasting rituals and- and dates! How am I to ever expect that they wouldn’t completely raid and torture and — take us women as their slaves?! Then? Huh? Howowowowow?” She burst, with Ilia ticking and rubbing her back softly.“There there there- want- want some mango?” A slurf snot.“No.”“Want some — pickled pig’s toes?”“No! Eww,” Blee breathed.“Okay, okay, okay. Some goat vagina? It’s a delicacy-““Oh my goodness. Um, what- what kind of salt did you use?”“Sea.”“Ah, no. Im good, thank you. Some monkey fruit would be fine, juiced, if we- if we have it juiced already. If not, I’ll just-““MONKEY FRUIT!” Yelled Ilia. “MONKEY FRUIT FOR PRINCESS BLEE!” She yelled around the corner.“Can it be pickled?”“AND MAKE IT PICKLED!” She screamed, full force and made some sparrows in some ( ) trees panic and fly around in a frantic fray.“Add some ants!” Rwee, a sparrow sang. And as soon as the other sparrows sang along, Ilia asked Blee,“Do you want it sprinkled with ants?” Blee sighed and smiled.“Yes, please.”____________________________________________________________A congregation of Blee’s immediate family were gathered around a fire in ( ), a nearby state of Ethiopia. Among the guests were Frio, a mullatto ( ) artist of statewide renown, Rihoo, an equally famous masenqo azmari, and Prin, a red-haired white priest, with all else being ebony, save for a few caucasian servants attending. Wint, an uncle, was attending the meats and vegetables by the fire and was talking to his wife, Uru about the Talla (beer).“Please, love.”“No! You get nunky when you imbibe! God would smite you to the inner chambers of Hell if you drink!”“Nuh-uhh! No He wouldn’t! He- he wants me to have a good time, I think-““Never!” She shouted, and some party goers eyed them and twirled their drinks in anxiety. “Do not love the world or anything of the world, Broo! You must not engage in the lusts of the flesh-!”“Ugh.” Uncle Pee replied. “Just a little lusts?”“No! None at all!”“But you’re drinking beer-!”“But I am not lusting! You are lust! You lust!” She shouted, swirling the mead in her cup and taking a sip. “Mmm!”Just then, Rihoo made a warbling mistake on his Masenqo and the partygoers shifted slightly and kept talking amongst themselves.“Cristovao da Gama is receding,” Abrimade, Blee’s cousin spoke to Helwo, her husband.“His hairline? I noticed when he attended the latest feast of Airwo-““Nonono, his forces.”“Oh, why? The Moors don’t seem to be too active anymore these days-”“No, they are, plenty, but Cristovao still retreated.” Abri stated.“Huh.” Helwo said, and both were silent for a moment.“Didnt we pay him to fight off the Ottomans? Handsomely?” She said.“True,” He said.“And recently he had a (feast) with the catholic diocese, right?”“Unfortunately, yes.”“Sooooo-““So,”“You think he’s a turncoat? Is Portugal on our side anymore?” She queried.“Well, he IS officially catholic.”“But the catholics are trying to eradicate us. Except, hopefully, he doesn’t wish to do that.” Abri said, and paused while Helwo tried to rip off meat from a goat leg which was too gamey. He grunted and dropped his cup of beer on the ground in order to two-hand his skewer, wincing and grunting for one one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand, four- total of sixteen seconds he battled with the meat stick until he finally got a rip off and nearly gouged his eye out with the wooden skewer while Abri rolled her eyes. He coughed a bit while he gulped down the game.“I really don’t wanna be catholic.” He grunted, after masticating for a good while and swallowing. “Too many rules. I mean, you have to do WHAT to make sure you’re not in purgatory?”“God knows.”______________________________________________________________________Wind as fiend met branches which seemed like dandelions wrent all the summertime sad, lest the madness begins. Culture states my wanton mistakes were made in haste, not touching the inner sanctum, the knower heart fast rhythm, so it is forgiven.Stay the play! Speaks inner gold. Write the sunrise into being, prays the fine mold lichen, growing on a copper plate, stealing a wary gaze from maidens belt their scream held aloft, can it come together as love, no fear? Is this God?Toovi the poet was a man with small hands and a rotund, cocoa facial complexion and bald, as all the monks were in (Ge’ez word), his Abbey. There was sweat running down over his papyrus in the afternoon sunlight, and at this moment he was in a state of pure panic. How? How could father Cou even begin to accept what he just wrote without lashing his back to smithereens? “It is forgiven?” He could almost hear his father screech. “By culture?! Not God?! No, no. No, no! This- this is blasphemy!” He heard in his mind. And then his back ached from imaginary lashes.“But Blee must be holy,” He thought, of the woman he thought of as his teacher, secretly, of course, as no woman could ever be allowed to teach. Ever since he heard Blee speak of the inner sound of “Bloo”, or the “perfect peace” that exists in the center of all hearts, he was addicted to that feeling he felt right when he heard of it, and could not help but chase it when he wrote his poems. He knew it was right, and true, even though the lashes he felt from his superiors rang almost as true when he spoke of her teachings. Most in Ethiopia who knew of the “Mathmetician princess” spoke of her in judgment and spite, and even the small group who knew by word of mouth (and some writings) of her philosophy and scientific experiments spoke of her warily and with much hate, even those who loved her. So she was mostly alone, save for a few loyal friends, including ( ), her servant and Brolei, her cousin. Blee found women were mostly jealous, or in judgment of her escapades and accomplishments, being set apart from her femininity in (many ways). The few men who valued her as one of their own had a gleam in their eye for her bloo, her lab experiments, and her genius. Ood protected her as much as he could, even writing two edicts that discouraged flailing and stoning any woman who proved that she could behave like a man in two specific ways. One, in holiness, and two, in surety and impact of the spirit as felt by others, as long as she acted and spoke in line and according to the scriptures. But still, women gossiped and men laughed. Toovi didnt see elder Renho standing at the doorframe, listening as Toovi recited his daily poem aloud. Toovi was of darker skin than most in the abbey, of Greek Orthodox (faith), with Father Cou being the only white man amongst the brethren, as it was pronounced in their sect.“Hello??” Renho called out, his sharp, deepest eyes wide in absolute concern of what he had just heard.“Ooh! Ahh~” Retaliated Toovi, in panic, his breath heaving in his chest. “What was that?”“Hwhat? Who-?” Shook the poor poet.“That- that thing you just said. Can I see that-?”“See what?”“That poem. What do you have there? ‘So it is forgiven’? ‘Fine maidens’? Is- is that what you wrote?”“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Toovi stated defiantly, trying to hide his paper behind his back.“No- let me see that.”“What?”“The poem- I demand, scribe, to see your daily work.”“Uhh, hold on~”. Toovi breathed and in one swift motion he crumpled up the piece of paper and put it in his mouth, and began to chew loudly. Renho glowered and spat.“What!? What are you doing?? Spit that out! Spit! Spit it out right now, I comMAND you!”“Rifonknoe shwhat frou fraulkin abowlt.” Scrunched Toovi, trying to get saliva to do its thing and help masticate the offending paper in question.“Did you just eat your poem? No! No! You cannot do that! I forbid! I forbid!” And with that Toovi gulped the paper down and smiled innocently.“Waaah- see? Nothing in my mouth! Ahhh- ohh. Oh dear. That’s gonna hurt coming out.” He mumbled fearfully, then looked aghast at his elder. “I mean, nothing. Nothing will hurt coming out of my bottom.” He paused as Renho seethed, in shock. “I hope. Heheh.” There was a pallid silence in the room as Renho’s face seemed like it wanted to mash itself like a potato and Toovi tried his best to seem innocent, his mouth wavering and his eyelids blinking in innocence.“You have been talking to that jezebel princess, haven’t you?”“Who- me? Oh no. Nonononono. No no. Mm mm. Not me!”“I know you have. You still feel the heart is most innocent, even though the Bible clearly states that the heart is deceitful above all else. Remember, oh fool, the mind is evil, the heart is evil, all is evil besides God!” Renho cried, to some silence before Toovi realized that he was expecting a response.“Oh, yis! Yis. Yes. Only God is okay. Everything else is not okay. Got that! Downloaded, locked and loaded. In my- ehh- cranium. I am not okay! And neither are- uhh- you. Heheh. Right?”“Never!” Renho screamed. “I am never okay! That is the only way!” He shook.“Oh yis. Indeed. The best way.”“I am taking you to father Cou! You will receive lashings!”“And then I will be- better?”“Never!” He said slightly softer and grabbed Toovi’s arm.“Oh dear.” Mumbled Toovi, trying to contract his back muscles to prepare for a hide lashing.“This shall teach you to never talk to that she-devil again.”“Let’s hope so…”
Publicado: 2025-12-23 01:08:00
fonte: medium.com
