The Mission

Emira was excited.

Her mission was about to begin. There was no better way to introduce herself as the new boss of the  military of this region. 

She had come at this time based on classified information, of another invasion and she was here to prevent more borderline soldiers from being killed like they were sitting ducks. 

If her new colleagues didn’t recognize her as one of them — and she seriously doubts they would — then they would have failed their first test. Which means they would be sent to her special training, which they seriously need. 

This was her 3rd time on Indian soil. The previous times were to attend weddings of family friends. 

This was no ceremony because it was about to get bloody in less than 5min.

Her kingdom was being threatened by some elements who were also threatening this region. And this was their route. Her kingdom now had more in common with India than friends and royal colleagues. They now had enemies in common.  

One too many civilians have lost their lives. The military seems helpless to arrest the situation, considering they have lost one too many soldiers themselves. 

The real issue was that the military has been named the culprit for every murder and crime in this part of the region. With no way of proving their innocence, their reputation was in tatters.

Hence, her father’s friend who was one of the generals in charge of this region had asked for her help in resolving the matter. He had handed his duties to her until the reputation of the military was sparkling clean and they drove back their common enemy. 

Emira squatted as she scoped the desert soil and it sift through her fingers, as though she was trying to feel the pulse of the land and decode its secrets. 
 
She could feel the intruders getting closer.  She locked her fingers and with her palm still open upward she spoke to the sand left in her hand, “Oh, you earth of this region, hear the word of the Living God, rebel against the rebellion working against the peace of God in this land, in the name of Jesus Christ”

Then, like Moses did with one of the plagues of Egypt, she threw the sand towards heaven. 

She did a last minute check on her secret camera and weapons, then adjusted her hood.

Since she had agreed to this mission, she had also studied the surrounding factors and key players in the situation, as she flew from her base to her father’s kingdom and then to India. 

Emira cracked a wry smile as she was certain by her instinct that her father and his friend had planned to send her here, not because the threat wasn’t serious or she couldn’t handle it, but because they have found a man they thought was a perfect match for.

She suspected he would be her new second in command.  We would see. She thought, as she fired a shot at an intruder creeping on an unsuspecting soldier with a wicked-looking knife.

https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2020/08/01/august-writing-prompts-3/#30 The moments before we touch #16 Difficult days

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Chronicles of the Crown: The Storm

Indira was in deep thoughts. Not unlike the dark clouds gathering. It looked like it was going to rain. Her first rain in her husband’s empire. 

The wind breezed through the palace, stirring her red-gold hair and her clothes as she lounged on a plush couch. Looking at her, with hair gently billowing, it would look like she was the mistress of storm.

Except Indira felt less mistress of anything, though you couldn’t tell just by looking at her.

Brunnie as Indira’s cousin called her, babbled as she toddled to the window couch. 

Indira watched her adopted daughter grunt with determination as she struggled to climb the couch.

Indira smiled as Brunnie knelt on the couch, peering outside longingly as she babbled “Papa” in reference to her husband.

Ah yes, Indira sighed remembering the main subject of her morose thoughts. Her husband.

The man was not listening to her where his safety was concerned.

She looked at her daughter who often made her way to the window watching for her “papa“, whenever he had been out for long. 

If that man made a widow of her with his continuous liaison with the enemy, she doubts she will forgive him — even if he had a beautiful soul.

“Beauty flows from the queen’s hair like the threatening of a storm” a husky male voice whispered.

Indira eyes fluttered open and blinked, as she looked into her husband’s eyes. She didn’t realise she had fallen asleep.

Brunnie babbled in her papa’s arms. As he shifted her to his side, she noticed the sun was out, though the air was still cool. 

As she got up, and hugged him around the neck, she had a relieved smile on her face. 

“You were not worried were you?” He hugged his queen’s waist. 

“I was. Was that a poem?” Indira asked in amusement.

“It was”, he declared with a serious face though his eyes were alight with merriment.

Indira couldn’t help herself. She laughed. 

It’s good to hear her laugh. The king thought, as he smiled.

https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2020/06/01/june-2020-writing-prompts/ #8.A Hint of rain 

A Daughter’s Hero, A Father’s Legacy.

Hello Beautiful People! I hope you are keeping safe and sound.

21st June was Father’s Day. 

A bittersweet day for a girl who has lost her first earthly hero. As it’s rightly said, a girl’s hero is her father. 

However, like Elisha having to watch Prophet Elijah his mentor, a man he called My Father, “charioted” up to Heaven; all I am left with, is the Mantle that flutters down as I begin to feel my father’s absence. That, and all the memories.

The memories of tough discipline, gentle instructions, his listening patient ears, as I nearly chatter his ears off… By the way? If my father didn’t loose his handsome ears for all my yakking, then no one can loose theirs for listening to others. Just said, I should put that out there.

I learnt the art of listening (eventually) because my father listened to me.

Because of that, I tried to do as he instructed, because I didn’t want to displease the only one after God who understood me.

It was a journey for him, because as a child I remember him, saying he didn’t understand me, usually, after I have been caught in an indiscretion. He would scold me. Then he gets real quiet, as if he was trying to solve the great mystery behind my behaviour. And then, like he was speaking to himself, he would say, “I can’t just understand…”

And I would feel sad and then resolve to not worry my daddy again. Which unfortunately, never happened.

Eventually, he began to understand me, and he began to teach me on what to do.

My dad is an angel. 

I adore my daddy and I miss him. I suspect I always will.

Now, his Mantel has rested right on the floor in front of me.

I just need to pick up my courage and the Mantle to cross the Jordan river….

Shalom.