Flash Fiction: King Magha By Nnaemeka Oruh

By Ikenga Chronicles September 3, 2016

Flash Fiction: King Magha By Nnaemeka Oruh

He hated her passionately. It was the type of hatred that began somewhere within the deep recesses of his bowels, and grew outward until its branches spread to even his fingertips. Not that he was sure of why he hated her. It was just plain hatred that probably sprang from nowhere. Sometimes though, he thinks it was because their Master–the bumbling fool—overlooked him, who should be the Chief of Staff, and made the ambitious neophyte Chief of Staff.

“I, Magha, who had served this Master faithfully for donkey years, should answer to that neophyte? Tufiakwa” he was once caught saying to two other servants, and narrowly missed the left foot of one of them, with the phlegm he had spat out in disgust.

Magha was the Laundry man, and did all the laundries in the big mansion including the boys’ quarters where all the servants lived while She was in charge of sweeping all the floors. So to punish her he began to defecate in his bed while asleep.

“The smell of my faeces will choke her when she is sweeping” he would say triumphantly.

Every morning, she sweeps his room while he packs all the bed sheets, his inclusive, and washes them.


The room was swirling as Magha listened to the lawyer. He could not believe what he was hearing. Master had died and bequeathed all he owned to him. He was the new Master! He got up and did a short jerky dance, speaking in incomprehensible tongues. Then her remembered Her, and laughed hysterically. He knew immediately what his first order of business would be.


Magha watched Her from the balcony, a glass of Whiskey in his hand. It was raining heavily, and She was out in the compound scrubbing the interlocking tiles with a short broom and detergent. Master Magha had ordered her to do so a short while ago, even though the rain was reminiscent of Noah’s period. It was just one, in a long line of mean duties he had been assigning to her since he became the new Master three days ago.

He had cut down her feeding to two slices of bread and a cup of water a day, but somehow, she continued to move around with a smile on her face.

She was smiling now, as she rose to give her waist a break.

“I’ll wipe that smile off your face soon” Godson fumed as he watched her. His hatred boiled over and he took a huge swig from the bottle of Whiskey.

He heard a cry from below and turned in time to see Her dance awkwardly in the air as she tried to regain her balance, before falling heavily, with her head hitting the concrete divider beside her. From where he was, Godson could see blood mixing with water as she lay limp. He smiled triumphantly.


“Wake up Godson! You have pooed in your bed again!” It was Obiora, the huge but effeminate butler. “Master wants to see you”


Photo Credit: Nnaemeka Oruh

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