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+---
+title: "Wicked"
+contributor: "@patrickalexander082@gmail.com"
+tags: #general, #patrickalexander082gmailcom
+---
+
+She smiled while the child stopped breathing.
+I am telling his story ecause people keep asking why the old palace is locked, and why no one goes near the dry river at night. I was there. I saw what happened. I did not understand it then. I do now.
+This happened when I was young, in a small town in West Africa. We had a queen. She was not born a queen. She married the king when he was already old. When he died, she stayed.
+People called her Mother of the Land. They said she was kind. They said she brought peace. I believed that too, at first.
+I worked in the palace as a helper. I carried water. I swept floors. I slept in a small room near the back wall. I saw things others did not see.
+The queen never aged. That was the first thing.
+Years passed. Children grew up. Old men died. The queen stayed the same. Same face. Same skin. Same sharp eyes.
+When people joked about it, they laughed it off. “She has good blood,” they said. “She uses herbs.”
+But at night, I heard things.
+Some nights, I heard crying. Not loud. Soft. Like someone trying not to be heard. It came from the inner room, the one no worker could enter. When I asked the other helpers, they said they heard nothing.
+Then children started to go missing.
+At first, it was one child. A boy who used to sell oranges near the gate. People said he ran away. Then a girl from the river side. Then another boy. Always poor children. Always children with no strong family.
+The queen said nothing. The guards said nothing.
+One night, the head maid sent me to bring water to the inner room. This had never happened before. My hands shook as I walked there.
+The door was half open.
+I wish I had turned back.
+Inside, the room smelled bad. Like blood and smoke. There were bowls on the floor. Dark stains on the mat. The queen stood near the wall. She was washing her hands.
+On the mat was a child. A small girl. Her eyes were open, but she was not moving.
+The queen looked at me and smiled.
+“You are late,” she said.
+I could not speak. I could not move.
+She told me to put the water down. My body obeyed before my mind could stop it.
+She knelt by the girl and touched her face. The girl did not react.
+“She will help the land,” the queen said. “Like the others.”
+Then she did something I will never forget.
+She placed her mouth on the child’s chest and breathed in. Hard. Slow. Like she was drinking air from inside the girl.
+The girl’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
+When the queen stood up, the child was still.
+The queen’s skin looked brighter. Her eyes looked full.
+I ran.
+I did not stop until I reached my room. I vomited on the floor. I cried without sound. I wanted to leave, but I knew I could not. The gates were locked at night.
+The next morning, the queen announced a festival. She said the land was blessed. Drums played. People danced. No one spoke of the missing children.
+I tried to tell someone. I told one guard. He stared at me and walked away. I told an old woman who sold food near the palace. She looked at me and said, “Be careful.”
+That night, someone knocked on my door.
+It was the queen.
+She came in alone. No guards. She sat on my mat like she owned it.
+“You saw,” she said.
+I nodded.
+She said she was chosen long ago. That the land needed blood to stay rich. That the children were gifts. That if she stopped, the land would die.
+Then she touched my head.
+“You will forget,” she said.
+I did not forget.
+But I stayed quiet.
+More children went missing. The land stayed rich. Crops grew. Rain came on time.
+Years passed.
+Then a dry season came. Long and hard. Crops failed. People got angry. They whispered that the queen had lost her power.
+One night, the crying came back. Louder this time.
+I followed the sound.
+The inner room door was open again.
+Inside, the queen was weak. She looked old. Her skin sagged. Her hair was thin. On the mat was a boy. Alive. Tied. Crying.
+She tried to feed. She could not.
+I do not know what came over me.
+I grabbed a torch and shouted.
+Guards ran in. People followed.
+They saw everything.
+The boy. The stains. The bowls. The queen on her knees.
+She screamed. Not in fear. In rage.
+They dragged her out. She fought like an animal.
+At the river, the elders made a choice. No trial. No words.
+They tied her and pushed her into the water.
+She did not sink.
+She floated. She laughed. Then the water pulled her down.
+The river dried up the next year.
+The palace was locked.
+I left the town soon after.
+People still say the queen was a story. A lie. A way to explain bad things.
+I know the truth.
+Sometimes, when the night is quiet, I hear breathing that is not mine.
+And I remember her smile.