Mimie's Fantasy Stories

By Moronke Oluwatoyin

Mimi’s- Fantasy Stories is full of exciting fables. It brings you a wide range of stories like the forbidden river in Kethura village that existed thousand years ago on top of Mt. Venus, the glassy fish gate, Odo-do-dio-do, The fairest girl in Cayman Island, Miss Bossy Boots, the Purveyor’s wishes, Mary and her missing lamb, and many more. Each story is linked by a positive message of hope that makes you feel better, smarter, or even loved. There is power in telling stories and these tales are guaranteed to delight and entertain both the young and adults.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9781716638602

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Mimie’s-Fantasy Stories

©2014 Moronke Oluwatoyin

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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any mean electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, photocopying, mechanical, recording or otherwise without permission in writing from the publishers.

Printed in United States of America

My mission is to publish books that add positive value to people’s lives.

Mimi’s- Fantasy Stories is full of exciting fables. It brings you a wide range of stories like the forbidden river in Kethura village that existed thousand years ago on top of Mt. Venus, the glassy fish gate, Odo-do-dio-do, The fairest girl in Cayman Island, Miss Bossy Boots, the Purveyor’s wishes, Mary and her missing lamb, and many more. Each story is linked by a positive message of hope that makes you feel better, smarter, or even loved. There is power in telling stories and these tales are guaranteed to delight and entertain both the young and adults.

I specially give GOD ALMIGHTY the glory and honor. I thank my readers who stepped aside to purchase my book. Without you folks, I could not have achieved and attained my desire and career as a published novelist. Once again, I appreciate your interest in my work. Thank you and a big hug to everyone.

Forbidden River

Kethura village existed a thousand years ago on top of Mt. Venus. A village surrounded by huge mountains where their ancestors dwelt isolated from the outside world. The Kethurans were self-sufficient people and content with their culture. Their men were great warriors who defended their women and children from foreigners that dropped in to spy on them. Although, strong and independent they couldn’t understand how and what brought the troubles to the precious village they loved and cherished. Many times, petty fights broke out amongst them. The fights were often dangerous and it was difficult to know the cause. They believed the spirit of the universe was punishing them for the sins of their ancestors.                                                             

  Anyway, in the far far Eastern part of the village was another mountain, Arapishiga which stood majestically and towered above it, nobody dared to go near it. One day, while the inhabitants slept under the skies that were veiled with night, all of a sudden, a volcano eruption started. It started to trickle down large ugly lumps of larvae with fire down its sides and with great speed it killed thousands of its inhabitants who were caught unawares. One of the survivors was Prinjab, an old crooked man with bowed legs. Unfortunately, his wife didn't make it but his sons survived. They  were tender and extremely young. Their skins had turned thin and you could see their bones right underneath. It was obvious they still needed their mother's breast milk to help them grow healthier. Prinjab lost half his memory after the incident and he couldn't remember the names of his sons.

The villages couldn't tell the times. As they still mourned their dead, they could only tell the time when evening and morning passed away.

  On one of those mornings while it was dark and daylight hadn't appeared, a thin smoke lingered on the mountain's cold.  Prinjab slipped his old body out of bed, stretched his hands and legs and sneaked out of the small rugged hut. He hoped his uprising wouldn't wake his little boys. Unexpectedly, his big eyeballs widened when he saw his sons playing outside. He didn't want to interrupt so he hid behind the cracked door and watched with keen interest. The three boys looked so much alike because they were born the same day. He couldn't tell the difference. He tightened his hands on the door and watched as one of his boys picked two stones on the brown sandy ground. He rubbed the stones together and since he wasn't satisfied, he rubbed harder and harder until the stones gave out a spark of light in all direction.

''Hmm! Interesting, that one has gifted hands.'' He pulled his long gray beard, ''yes, I'll call him GiftedHands.'' But he was still confused. ''How can I identify him,'' he thought, scratching his bald head. As he continued to ponder, his eyes saw something strange about the boy. Giftedhands had soft hands but his feet wasn't the same the right feet was longer than the left.

He tapped his feet several times, ''Good, that one is solved.''

After awhile, his attention was distracted, the other two were fighting.

''I must find something that makes the two different.''

Gifted Hands settled quietly. The excitement in his eyes made it to twinkle bright. Next, he pulled the stick laid buried under the sand and amazingly used his hands to carve out a sharp arrow.

''How on earth did he do that...where and...my goodness…who gave him the idea?'' he asked.

While his mind was occupied with his little invention, the other two ran to his side. They started to struggle for the stones. Prinjab noticed how one of two pushed the other on the ground. Next, he pinned him down and sat on top of him threatening him with the stones.

''Hmm...how sad,'' he muttered. He looked hard at the boy sitting on his brother, ''that one is Stronghead but how can I tell?'' he stammered.

Prinjab continued to watch for signs on his body. Alas! He noticed the three tiny dark lines on his forehead as he squeezed his face harder at his brother. Then his eyebrow slanted down like a V shape.

''Good, Good, that's Stronghead.''

Stronghead continued to threaten his brother. The poor boy couldn't do anything but cry out for help.

Giftedhands heard his cry. Quickly, he rose up and pushed Stronghead away. As he pulled him away, the defeated boy began to mutter some words which had no meaning. The old man was touched and placed his hands on his heart.

''Ugh…oh my dear son, you've a tender voice that can break a bone.''

Once again, he scratched and scratched his beard, searching for a name to give him.

''I've got it, ''he screamed,'' that one is Tenderly, I'll call him "Tenderly,'' he smiled, rubbing his wrinkled hands.

The boys turned their heads sharply when they heard the sound. Without delay, they sprang up and ran swiftly inside but they weren't smart enough. Old Prinjab grabbed their hands and enfolded them in his arms.

''Now, my sons stand against the wall,'' he ordered.

The little trios thought their father was angry.

He smiled then with his head lowered and hands behind, he paced back and forth. His eyes became larger and larger as he bent his old back. Tenderly began to cry again but Stronghead gave him a hard look, he wasn't moved by his father's odd behavior. Instead, he frowned back at him.

Prinjab felt he was right to call him Stronghead.

''You're truly Stronghead.''

He was sort of uneasy when he saw the smiling expression on his face. He was even more surprised when he nodded back at him.

''You're impossible,'' he said. The boy giggled as he ruffled his black curly hair.

Again, he paced back and forth with his back bent. He stopped and stood right in front of the boy next to Stronghead. Then he placed his foot lightly on his right foot. He knew he was the only one that had one longer than the other.

''Ah! Ah!'' He laughed and shook his son's tender soft hands.

He lowered his body and tried to match the boy's foot. ''Yes, I’m right, he's Giftedhands.''

Next, he sat slowly on the floor and carried the last boy, placing him on his lap.

''You're so tender my boy...very very tender. I'll call you Tenderly.''

Tenderly tried to talk but he couldn't get what he was saying. The only words he understood was dada.

But his tender voice was so touching that it made him to cry.

It was time to give his sons a bath. He lifted the rusty pale blue bath tub to the corner where pile of woods was placed. As he filled it with water Stronghead watched him from underneath his eyes.

"Stronghead, Stronghead, Stronghead,’’ he shouted.

The boy refused to heed his father’s call.

He frowned at his father and continued with his play.

"My goodness, you’re stubborn aren’t you?’’

He straightened from his couching position and walked to his son.

"Stronghold, get up,’’ he said in finality.

All of a sudden, he gave him a hard slap on the back. Again, he wasn’t bothered but dashed off to unsettle the water his father had placed at the center for bathing.

He pulled his ears hard but the young lad struggled to push his father away. Prinjab was stronger and tougher. His brothers watched with interest the drama between them. Next, he carried high and dipped him in the cold water. 

"Arrrgh…!’’ he screamed. 

He noticed the lines on his forehead, "you know something I think you’re a damn thick head boy,’’ he said, laughing. It wasn’t funny to him so he raised his fist at Prinjab.

"You mustn’t disrespect your father,’’ he warned, as he pulled his hard chin.

"Tenderly, my boy, now come here,’’ he smiled. The cute boy dropped the pebbles on his hands and ran to him. He was glad he obeyed and at that moment he lifted him up then whooosh inside the small bath tub. He giggled as his father tickled him and washed his body.  After some minutes, he was wrapped with an old white cotton cloth.

"Giftedhands come here my son.’’

Stronghead hardened his face and raised his fist in a threatening way at him. He was scared of his brother but Prinjab’s sharp and strong voice was hard to resist. He stamped his feet, lowered his head and treaded heavily to his father.

The villagers continued to enjoy the peace and quiet that settled in its environs. The dark grey smoke on the peak of the mountain disappeared. It