In the mouth of the witch

She was a witch. But not in the traditional sense, with a dark skin woman dressed in old African clothin.

No, her powers were subtler than that. They lived in her eyes, in the way they glowed like embers in the twilight. And they lived in her hands, which could bend and shape time itself.

Her name was Adaku, but nobody called her that. They called her witch.

Adaku lived on the outskirts of the village, in a small hut made of mud and straw. She kept to herself for the most part, venturing into town only when she needed supplies or when someone had sought out her services—someone who needed time on their side.

But there were those who feared her—those who believed that all witches were evil, regardless of their intentions—and it was these people who spread rumors about her.

"She's cursing our crops," one villager whispered to another as they passed Adaku's hut on their way to market.

"I heard she turned old man Ekwu into a goat," said another.

"Such nonsense," said Ekwu himself from his spot at the bar. "If I'm being honest, I wouldn't mind being a goat—not as much work."

But Ekwu was an outlier, for most villagers believed that witches were bad omens—a sign that something terrible was about to happen—and so they avoided Adaku whenever possible.

Except for Oluwa.

He was just a boy of ten years old when he first saw Adaku. He'd been exploring the outskirts of his village when he happened upon her hut and watched as she moved effortlessly through time. He'd never seen anything like it before—it was as if she held the whole world in her hands—and he couldn't help but be drawn to her.

"What are you doing here?" she'd asked him sharply once she noticed his presence.

"I…I'm sorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean to intrude. I was just curious."

Adaku had regarded the boy for a long moment before speaking again, her voice softer this time. "Curiosity is not a crime. Come closer, child. I will not harm you."

And so he did, taking cautious steps toward her until he stood just outside the door of her hut.

"What are you doing?" he asked again, more confident now.

"I am mending time," she said simply as she used her hands to reshape the air around her.

"Mending time?" Oluwa repeated in awe.

She nodded and continued her work, completely absorbed in it now.

Oluwa watched in silence for a long while before mustering up the courage to speak again. "Can you… Can you teach me?" he asked tentatively.

Adaku paused then and turned to face him fully. "Why would you want me to do that? People fear what they do not understand."

"But I'm not like them," Oluwa said earnestly. "I want to know everything there is to know about the world—to see things that no one else has seen."

Adaku studied him for a moment longer with those ember eyes of hers before finally nodding. "Very well," she said. And from that day forward, their lessons began.

Oluwa learned quickly—he was a natural—and soon Adaku's world expanded beyond the confines of her small hut as they traveled through time together, visiting different eras and different lands and meeting people who had been dead for centuries.

He saw wonders few could even imagine and marveled at how much beauty existed in the world—how many stories were waiting to be told if only someone would listen.

And Adaku listened, soaking up every word that Oluwa shared with her about life in the village—the good and the bad—and she grew to love this place that had once rejected her.

But time is a fickle thing, and it has a way of catching up with those who try to manipulate it.

One day, as Oluwa was in the village gathering supplies for Adaku, he overheard a group of men talking at the bar. "That witch is getting bolder," one of them said with a shake of his head. "They say she's bringing evil spirits into our village."

"Yes, I heard that too," said another. "We should do something about it before she brings ruin upon us all."

Oluwa's heart sank at their words. He knew he had to warn Adaku—knew that their time together was running out—but he couldn't bring himself to say goodbye just yet.

So instead, he ran back to her hut and told her everything.

"They're coming for you," he said breathlessly once he'd caught his breath. "You have to go—now!"

Adaku looked at him for a long moment before speaking. "Thank you for warning me," she said simply as she packed a small bag with her most treasured possessions—a necklace made from seashells and stones, and a journal filled with stories from Oluwa's world.

"Come with me," she added then, taking his hand in hers. "There are so many places I want to show you."

But Oluwa shook his head sadly. "I can't. This is my home—I have family here."

Adaku nodded then and pulled him into a tight embrace—the first they'd ever shared. "You are wise beyond your years, Oluwa," she said softly against his ear. And then they were gone.

The villagers arrived at Adaku's hut just moments later, only to find it empty save for the lingering scent of cinnamon—the same scent that always seemed to follow Adaku wherever she went.

And they were relieved. They believed that the witch had fled, that their village was safe once more. But Oluwa knew better.

He and Adaku spent the rest of their days together—traveling through time and space and making memories that would last a lifetime. And when the time finally came for them to say goodbye, it was bittersweet.

"I will miss you," Oluwa said as he stood at the door of her hut, tears streaming down his face.

Adaku smiled then—a smile that reached all the way to those glowing ember eyes of hers—and pulled him into one final embrace. "I will miss you too, my dear friend," she said softly against his ear. "But remember: curiosity is not a crime. Keep exploring, keep learning, and never let anyone tell you who you are or what you can do."

And with that, she was gone.

Oluwa returned to the village then—his heart heavy with grief but also filled with gratitude—for he knew that he had been blessed to know someone like Adaku—to see things that no one else had seen and learn things that no one else could teach him.

And he vowed then to carry her spirit with him always—to be a guardian of time and knowledge just as she had been—as he passed down her stories from generation to generation so that no one would ever forget the witch who lived on the outskirts of their village.