Chapter 5 Please your Highness, we will leave here

Bur!ed Alive.

(for miracle)

Episode 5️⃣

... I didn't even know when I fell to the floor and started to roll before the king, begging him to please have mercy on us. My tears flowed uncontrollably as I grasped at his feet, my hands shaking with desperation. I pleaded with him to show compassion, to spare us from further suffering. I even told him that we would have left the village already, but our car was stolen, and I begged him to ask the guards to help us search for it, maybe they would be able to find it. But instead of showing empathy, he coldly replied that we weren't ready to leave in the first place, maybe that was the reason why the car was stolen.

His words cut through me like a knife, leaving me feeling helpless and defeated. I couldn't believe that he would twist our misfortune into a justification for his cruelty. I looked up at him, my eyes streaming with tears, and saw only a hard, unyielding face staring back at me. I realized that we were at the mercy of a man who saw us as nothing more than a threat to his power, and that our only hope for survival lay in finding a way to escape his clutches. But for now, I was trapped, forced to grovel at his feet, begging for a scrap of kindness that seemed forever out of reach.

"Woman, get up" the king commanded, his voice firm and dismissive, as if my pleading was nothing more than a nuisance to be silenced. "Look, I don't care how you and your family leave this village. You can do so by either trekking or even flying for all I care" he continued, his words dripping with sarcasm and contempt. The elders, who had been watching the exchange with great amusement, suddenly burst out laughing, their faces creasing with mirth, their eyes shining with cruel delight.

Their laughter was like a cold wind that cut through my heart, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. I knew that we were in grave danger, that the king's words were not just an idle threat, but a promise of impending doom. "If by this time tomorrow you're still seen anywhere around this village, I will bury you alive and have your wife's head and that of your children on a platter" he added, his voice dripping with malevolence, his eyes glinting with a sinister light.

The laughter of the elders continued to echo through the throne room, a chilling reminder of the fate that awaited us if we failed to escape. I knew that we had to act fast, to find a way out of the village before the king's patience ran out. But for now, we were trapped, at the mercy of a ruthless tyrant who saw us as nothing more than pawns to be used and discarded at his whim.

"If God wants it that way, then so be it" my husband replied, his voice calm and resigned, as if he had accepted the king's cruel fate for us. But his words sparked a fire within me, a flame of defiance and determination that I couldn't ignore.

As soon as I heard that, I turned swiftly and looked at him, my eyes wide with disbelief and anger. "Aah!" I exclaimed, my voice loud and sharp, my hands on my hips, my body tense with frustration. "How can you say that?" I demanded, my words pouring out in a torrent of emotion. "How can you just give up like that? We can't just sit back and wait for the king to carry out his evil plans! We have to do something, we have to fight for our lives, for our freedom!"

My outburst was met with silence, the king and his elders staring at me with a mixture of surprise and amusement, as if I was a wild animal that had suddenly broken free from its chains. But I didn't care, I was beyond caring, my heart racing with fear and adrenaline, my soul screaming for action. I knew that we had to escape, and fast, before the king's patience ran out and his threats became a reality.

"You see this man, I don't like him one bit" The King said, his voice dripping with disdain, as he waved a finger at my husband, his eyes narrowing in contempt. "This your overconfidence and trust in this your God, may it not put you and your entire family in trouble" He added, his words a thinly veiled threat, a warning that we were playing with fire by defying his authority.

But my husband, still kneeling, didn't flinch, his face serene, his eyes closed, the Bible clutched tightly to his chest. He was a picture of calm, a rock of faith, unshaken by the king's intimidation. His smile, gentle and peaceful, seemed to infuriate the king further, but it only strengthened my resolve to get my family out of this dangerous situation.

"Please, your Highness, we will leave here" I said, my voice shaking with fear, my words tumbling out in a desperate bid to appease the king. "As a matter of fact, as early as 5 or 6 am tomorrow morning, we are out of here" I added, my sobs echoing through the throne room, my body trembling with anxiety. I knew we had to escape, and fast, before the king's patience ran out and his threats became a reality. I was willing to do anything to protect my family, to get us out of this treacherous place and back to safety.

"That's your business. If you like stay, if you like go" He said, his voice nonchalant, his gaze dismissive, as he picked up his hand fan and began to fan himself, his movements languid and graceful. The gesture was a clear indication that our audience was at an end, that we were no longer worthy of his attention.

"Sh... Shall we... go now sir" I asked, my voice trembling, my words stuttering, as I hesitated, unsure if we were truly free to leave. The king's expression was unreadable, his face a mask of indifference, but his eyes seemed to bore into my soul, as if daring me to linger.

"Get out of here, now!" He rumbled, his voice suddenly commanding, his tone brooking no argument, as he pointed towards the door with a flick of his wrist. The gesture was imperious, the authority behind it unmistakable, and I knew we had to obey, to flee the throne room before the king's mood shifted once more. I nodded hastily, my heart racing, as I turned to my husband and children, my eyes urging them to follow me, to escape the king's wrath while we still could.

I got up, my movements swift and urgent, as I reached out and took one of my husband's hands in mine, pulling him up from his kneeling position with a force that brooked no resistance. But even as he rose to his feet, he seemed reluctant to surrender to my grasp, his hand still trying to withdraw from mine, as if he couldn't bear the thought of being beholden to me, even in this moment of crisis.

But I wouldn't let go, my grip tight and insistent, as I suddenly erupted into a torrent of anger and tears. "It's all your fault!" I yelled, my voice echoing through the throne room, my words a bitter accusation that seemed to hang in the air like a challenge. "Our well-being does not even matter to you a bit!" I raged on, my tears streaming down my face like a river of pain and frustration. "I know that there's nothing too big for God to do, but the way you're going about this, you will end up endangering all of us!" I shouted, my voice cracking with emotion, my heart heavy with fear and despair.

My words seemed to strike my husband like a blow, his face pale and shocked, his eyes wide with a mixture of guilt and sorrow. But I didn't care, I was beyond caring, my anger and fear boiling over into a frenzy of recrimination and despair. I knew that we were running out of time, that the king's patience was wearing thin, and that we had to escape, before it was too late. And so I pulled my husband along, my grip on his hand like a vice, as I dragged him towards the door, towards freedom, and away from the king's deadly wrath.

"Please, just leave this place with your family problems. I have finished addressing you, and I will not waste any more of my time on you," the King said, his voice firm and dismissive, his eyes cold and unyielding. "But where you will incur my wrath is if you and your children fail to leave here by tomorrow," he added, his tone dripping with menace, his words a clear threat that hung in the air like a sword of Damocles.

I knew we had to escape, and fast, but my fear and desperation got the better of me, and I again started pleading for mercy, my words tumbling out in a desperate bid to appease the king. I even rubbed my palms together, a gesture of supplication, hoping against hope that he would show some compassion, some glimmer of humanity. But it was all in vain, for the king was unmoved, his heart hardened against us.

"Enough!" he barked, his patience finally exhausted, as he gestured to the guards. "Throw them out!" he ordered, his voice ringing through the throne room, and the guards moved swiftly to obey, their hands grasping our arms, pulling us away from the king's presence, away from the throne room, and out into the unknown. I struggled and kicked, my tears falling like rain, but it was no use, we were powerless against the king's wrath, and we were thrown out into the darkness, left to fend for ourselves.

.

On our way home, I was consumed by a mixture of emotions - anger, fear, and despair - and I couldn't even utter a word. My tears flowed profusely as I walked hastily ahead of my husband, my feet carrying me rapidly away from the king's palace and its horrors. I was oblivious to everything around me, my vision blurred by the tears streaming down my face.

My husband followed behind me, his footsteps echoing mine, but I didn't even acknowledge his presence. I was too hurt, too angry, and too scared to speak to him. He pleaded with me, his voice soft and contrite, "Please darling, I am sorry," but I ignored him, my heart heavy with sorrow and frustration.

I had forgotten that I had gone to the palace with our daughter Layla, and I didn't even realize when she fell behind, her small legs struggling to keep up with my frantic pace. My husband tried to comfort her, to explain our situation, but I was too far gone, lost in my own thoughts and fears.

The silence between us was palpable, a thick fog that clung to us like a shroud. I knew my husband was trying to reach out, to apologize and make amends, but I was too raw, too wounded, to listen. All I could think of was our precarious situation, our uncertain future, and the danger that lurked around every corner.

Immediately we got home, I sprang into action, my movements swift and determined. I began to gather our belongings, hastily packing our clothes and essentials into bags and suitcases. My husband stood by, watching me with a mixture of sadness and resignation, but he didn't try to stop me. I was too angry, too hurt, and too scared to listen to him.

As I worked, I called out to our children, trying to gather them together so we could leave, but only my daughter responded. She emerged from the house, looking around uncertainly, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. My husband stood outside, a faint smile on his face, but his eyes betrayed his pain and worry.

"Dad, are you ok?" my daughter asked, walking up to him, her small voice filled with concern. "Yes, I am fine as you can see," he replied, looking down at himself, his gesture a stark reminder of the brutal treatment he had endured at the king's hands. His smile was a brave attempt to reassure our daughter, but it couldn't mask the anguish and despair that gripped our family.

I continued to pack, my movements mechanical and detached, as if I was in a trance. I knew we had to leave, to escape the king's wrath and find a safe haven. But my heart was heavy with sorrow, my mind racing with thoughts of uncertainty and fear. What lay ahead? Would we find safety? Would we ever be able to return home? The questions swirled in my head like a vortex, but I pushed them aside, focusing on the task at hand. We had to leave, and we had to leave now.

"Look, call your brother, let's get out of here!" I raged, my voice echoing through the room, my words a desperate plea to escape the danger that lurked outside. But my husband just stood there, a smirk on his face, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of sadness and resignation.

"You're not going to leave here at this time, will you?" he said, his voice laced with a hint of irony, as if he knew something I didn't. "Besides, how do you intend to do that without a car? So you want to leave me behind, right?" He approached me, his hands outstretched, but I pushed him back, my palms firm against his chest.

"As for how we intend getting out of this devil's pit, God will make a way," I spat, my words a defiant declaration of faith in the face of uncertainty. "And as for that question, if we want to leave you behind, yes, we will!" I hissed, my anger boiling over. "Our lives don't matter to you in any way, do they?" I accused, my eyes blazing with tears and fury.

My husband's smile faltered, and for a moment, I saw a glimmer of pain in his eyes. But it was quickly replaced by a mask of resignation, and he nodded slowly. "I understand," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I will call your brother." But I knew it was too late, the damage was done, and our family was already torn apart.

"Come on..." He attempted to say, his voice soft and gentle, a pleading tone that sought to pierce my armor of anger and hurt. But I immediately raised a hand in the air, shutting my eyes, and he paused, his words hanging in the balance like a delicate leaf on a autumn breeze.

I turned to my daughter, my voice firm and resolute, a sense of urgency driving my words. "Please call Sammy for me, let's leave here," I said, my eyes locked on hers, my gaze intense and serious. I knew we had to escape, to flee this place and its dangers, and I needed her help to make it happen.

But my daughter's response was not what I expected. "Ah, he followed you out of here now, when you and Layla left for the palace," she said, her voice matter-of-fact, her words a stark reminder of the reality we faced. I felt a pang of fear and anxiety, my mind racing with thoughts of Sammy's safety, and the danger that lurked outside our door.

I opened my eyes, my gaze locking onto my husband's, a fierce determination burning within me. "We have to leave, now," I said, my voice firm and resolute, my words a call to action in the face of uncertainty. And with that, I turned and walked away, my daughter following close behind, our hearts heavy with fear, our spirits buoyed by hope.

"Followed me? No, I didn't see him," I said, my voice laced with confusion and concern, my mind racing with thoughts of Sammy's whereabouts. That was how my son again went missing in that little village, vanishing into thin air like a whisper on the wind.

We combed everywhere later that evening, searching for him, our hearts heavy with worry, our spirits buoyed by hope. We scoured the streets, the bushes, and the fields, calling out his name, but there was no response. The only reaction we got was from the villagers, who would start to laugh whenever they saw us searching. We ignored them, our focus fixed on finding Sammy, but their mocking laughter echoed in our minds like a haunting refrain.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the village, we finally gave up our search, our bodies exhausted, our minds drained. Around 8 pm, same day, we all left for the palace, determined to inform the king about the new development. But when we arrived, he dismissed our concerns with a wave of his hand, telling us that it was none of his business.

I stood tall, my voice firm and resolute, my eyes blazing with determination. "I'm not going to leave Jogbo until they produce my son," I declared, my words a challenge to the king and his people. "And they'll have to kill me first," I added, my voice a fierce whisper, my heart a heavy burden of love and worry. The king's face remained impassive, but I knew my words had struck a chord, a spark of fear that flickered in his eyes like a candle in the wind.

"Then so be it," The King said, his voice cold and detached, his words a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play. I had wanted to stay back in the palace, to disturb everyone's peace, including that of the King, to make them feel the weight of my worry and concern for my missing son. But my husband, ever the voice of reason, asked that we leave and return the following day, perhaps hoping that a night's rest would bring clarity and a new perspective.

I reluctantly agreed, my heart heavy with frustration and anxiety, my mind racing with thoughts of Sammy's safety and well-being. As we left the palace, I couldn't help but feel a sense of defeat, of powerlessness, that gnawed at my very being. But I knew I had to keep fighting, for my son, for my family, and for justice.

Do you know what happened the following day? The events that unfolded were a testament to the unpredictability of life, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, hope can be found. But for now, the uncertainty hung in the air like a thick fog, obscuring our vision, and testing our resolve.

Throughout that night, we couldn't even sleep a wink, our minds racing with thoughts of Sammy's safety and well-being. I was up pacing around, my feet carrying me back and forth across the room like a restless spirit, my heart heavy with worry and fear. My husband, on the other hand, locked himself up in our room, his voice a gentle murmur as he prayed till dawn, seeking solace and guidance from above.

As soon as the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, we got up, our bodies weary, our spirits determined. We headed straight to the palace, our footsteps echoing through the quiet streets, our hearts fixed on our mission. We stayed there, waiting patiently, until the King was awake, our presence a constant reminder of our unwavering resolve.

When the King finally emerged, my husband asked him, his voice firm and resolute, to tell his people to produce his son. But the King, his face a mask of indifference, again asked us to leave, his words a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play. But we refused, our determination and desperation fueling our courage. And so, my husband started preaching and praying at the top of his voice, right there in the palace, his words a fiery declaration of our faith and our unwavering commitment to finding our son. The sound of his voice echoed through the halls, a challenge to the King and his people, a testament to the power of hope and resilience in the face of uncertainty.

"How dare you?" The King roared, his voice thundering through the palace halls, his face red with rage, his eyes blazing with fury. "Guards..." He called at the top of his voice, his hand raised, his finger pointing at us like a dagger. "Take them and go bury them alive" He ordered, his gaze fixed, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity, his words a death sentence.

As he spoke, his finger traced a small circle in the air, as if conjuring a dark magic, his eyes never leaving ours, his gaze piercing and cold. The guards moved swiftly, their faces expressionless, their hands grasping for us like claws. We stood firm, our hearts pounding, our spirits unbroken, as the King's wrath raged on, his power and fury a tempest that threatened to consume us whole.

To be continued.