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The prince and the village girl!

Episode 5: True Love Wins

The next day, Amina went to the palace. The prince was waiting.

“I never wanted to deceive you,” he said. “I love you for who you are, not where you come from.”

Amina searched his eyes. “Do you really mean that?”

“Yes,” the prince said. “Will you be my wife?”

Amina took a deep breath. “Only if you promise to always be honest with me.”

The prince smiled. “I promise.”

The kingdom celebrated their love. Amina, the village girl, became the future queen—not because of her beauty, but because of her kind heart.

And so, love proved that it sees no status, only the heart.

The End..
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The Prince and the Village Girl

Episode 1:
The Unexpected Meeting

Prince Ade, the only son of King Olumide, lived in a grand palace in the Kingdom of Ife. His life was full of luxury, but something always felt missing.

One day, the prince decided to visit the village disguised as an ordinary man. He wanted to see how his people lived. As he walked through the market, he saw a young woman helping an old woman carry a basket of yams. Her name was Amina. She was kind, hardworking, and beautiful.

The prince watched her with curiosity. “Who is she?” he whispered to himself.

When Amina finished helping, she turned and caught him staring. “Can I help you?” she asked.

Prince Ade smiled. “I was just admiring your kindness.”

Amina laughed. “Kindness is free. The world needs more of it.”

The prince was impressed. He wanted to know more about her.
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The Wicked Prince of Ogwugwu"

The screaming didn’t stop, even when we poured water on the fire. I swear to you, the cries came from the flames.

It all started two months ago when I moved back to Ogwugwu village to take care of my aging grandmother. Everyone in the village talked about Prince Ikenna, the king’s youngest son. He was known for his beauty, his charm, and his wickedness. They said he was a man who could get away with anything because his father loved him too much to punish him.

I didn’t think much of the stories until I saw him with my own eyes.

One evening, I was fetching water from the stream when I heard a woman’s voice pleading. I hid behind some thick bushes and saw Prince Ikenna standing over a kneeling girl. She was begging him, saying, “Please, my prince, I’ll return it tomorrow.” She held a small clay pot in her hands, her body shaking.

Prince Ikenna laughed, a sharp sound that cut through the evening air. “You dare to steal from my land and make excuses? Do you think I am a fool?”

“I didn’t know the land belonged to you,” the girl cried. “My family has nothing. I only took a little yam from the farm to feed my siblings.”

Before she could say more, Ikenna pulled a whip from his side and lashed her. I felt my stomach twist. She screamed, but no one came to help. He beat her until she fell silent, then kicked her pot into the stream. The water turned muddy as the pot cracked open.

I couldn’t move. I stayed frozen behind the bushes until he left. The girl was still lying there when I finally found the courage to approach her. Her face was bloody, her eyes swollen shut. She whispered, “He won’t stop. He never stops.”

That was the first time I realized the stories were true.

I tried to tell my grandmother about it when I got home. She shook her head and said, “Uche, stay away from the prince. He is not like other men. His heart is black, and his spirit is cursed. He was born under an evil star, and no one dares to cross him.”

“But what if someone stops him?” I asked.

“No one can,” she said. “Many have tried. They all disappeared.”

A week later, I heard about another incident. A young farmer had argued with the prince over a piece of land. That same night, the farmer’s house caught fire with his entire family inside. When the villagers came to help, they swore they heard laughter coming from the flames.

Something didn’t sit right with me. How could a human being have so much power? I decided to stay far away from him, but fate had other plans.

One night, I was returning from my uncle’s house when I saw a light in the forest. It was strange, flickering like a fire but moving as if it had legs. I followed it, thinking maybe someone needed help.

What I saw still haunts me.

Prince Ikenna was sitting in a small clearing, surrounded by burning torches. He was chanting something, his voice low and guttural. In the middle of the circle lay a goat, its throat slit. Blood soaked the earth around it.

I felt a chill crawl down my back. I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn’t move. Ikenna suddenly stopped chanting and turned his head, as if he could sense me. His eyes glowed—yes, they glowed—like red embers. I swear I saw his mouth twist into a grin.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice calm and deep.

I stumbled backward, tripping over a root. He stood up and walked toward me, the torches flaring brighter with each step. I thought that was the end for me, but then I heard someone call my name from the distance.

“Uche! Uche, where are you?”

It was my grandmother. Her voice broke whatever spell had held me in place. I scrambled to my feet and ran as fast as I could, not stopping until I was safely home.

The next morning, the prince’s guards came to our house. They told my grandmother that Prince Ikenna wanted to see me. She begged them to leave me alone, but they said, “The prince’s word is final.”

I was taken to the palace, trembling with fear. When I entered his chambers, I saw him sitting on a golden chair, smiling at me.

“You have a curious mind, don’t you?” he said. “You think you can watch and judge me?”

“I didn’t mean to—” I started, but he raised his hand to silence me.

“I should teach you a lesson,” he said. Then he leaned forward and whispered, “But I like people who know when to be quiet. Let this be the last time you interfere in my affairs.”

I nodded quickly, my heart pounding. He dismissed me with a wave of his hand, and I ran out of there as fast as I could.

That was the last time I saw Prince Ikenna alive.

Two weeks later, the villagers rose against him. They were tired of his cruelty, tired of living in fear. They stormed the palace and dragged him out into the open. He laughed as they tied him to a stake and lit the fire.

But the laughter didn’t stop when the flames consumed him. It grew louder, echoing across the village. The villagers ran, terrified, leaving the fire to burn itself out.

When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left of Prince Ikenna. Only a blackened circle on the ground and the faint sound of laughter in the air.
To this day, no grass grows where he burned. People say his spirit still roams the village, watching, waiting.
And sometimes, when the night is too quiet, I think I hear him laughing.