In a remote corner of a distant town, nestled within the embrace of a tribal community, there existed a curious and enigmatic path. This path, unlike any other, defied conventional logic—entering from one direction invariably led to emerging from another, leaving travellers disoriented and their provisions mysteriously diminished. Amidst this intriguing landscape, lay a garden brimming with nature's bounty: apples, bananas, pears, pomegranates, and figs adorned its verdant expanse. This sanctuary of abundance came to be known as Salha's Garden, named after its benevolent caretaker, Salha.
Salha was a paragon of virtue, her deeds and words guided by righteousness. She was not merely the proprietor of the garden; she considered it a communal treasure, a source of sustenance for the entire tribe. Thus, Salha's Garden became a symbol of generosity and inclusivity, where anyone from the tribe was welcome to partake of its fruits, their hunger sated and their spirits uplifted.
Within the tribe, Salha's reputation was unparalleled. She was revered and cherished, her value immeasurable. Her integrity and selflessness earned her the unwavering respect and reliance of her fellow tribespeople, who looked to her with boundless trust and admiration.
Alas, as is often the case in tales of virtue and righteousness, there lurked amidst the shadows the malevolent presence of envy and treachery. Salha, with her pure heart and noble deeds, unwittingly drew the ire of a dark figure: the wicked sorceress known as Aqissa.
Aqissa's nefarious sorcery cast a sinister veil over the once harmonious existence within the tribe. Through her dark arts, she wove spells that twisted the paths of travellers, ensnaring them in bewildering labyrinths of confusion. Yet, her malevolence extended beyond mere mischief; fuelled by jealousy and malice, Aqissa harboured a relentless desire to bring about Salha's downfall.
With every fibre of her being, Aqissa schemed and plotted, seeking to erode Salha's esteemed standing within the tribe. Her nefarious machinations knew no bounds, as she even dared to conspire against the very sanctuary of Salha's benevolence—the cherished garden that bore her name. In her darkest hour, when Salha welcomed the arrival of twins into the world, Aqissa's jealousy burned fiercer than ever, driving her to the brink of madness.
Aqissa's nefarious sorcery cast a sinister veil over the once harmonious existence within the tribe. Through her dark arts, she wove spells that twisted the paths of travellers, ensnaring them in bewildering labyrinths of confusion. Yet, her malevolence extended beyond mere mischief; fuelled by jealousy and malice, Aqissa harboured a relentless desire to bring about Salha's downfall.
With every fibre of her being, Aqissa schemed and plotted, seeking to erode Salha's esteemed standing within the tribe. Her nefarious machinations knew no bounds, as she even dared to conspire against the very sanctuary of Salha's benevolence—the cherished garden that bore her name. In her darkest hour, when Salha welcomed the arrival of twins into the world, Aqissa's jealousy burned fiercer than ever, driving her to the brink of madness.
Yet, despite Aqissa's relentless onslaught, Salha remained steadfast in her righteousness. Through sheer resilience and the protective embrace of the community that held her in high regard, Salha thwarted each and every one of Aqissa's wicked designs. In the face of adversity, Salha's light shone ever brighter, a beacon of hope and goodness that refused to be extinguished by the shadows of malevolence.
Under the cloak of night, consumed by the venom of spite that coursed through her veins, Aqissa, the malevolent sorceress, convened her demonic allies. With twisted desires burning in her heart, she implored these dark entities to aid her in a despicable plot: the destruction of Salha's cherished garden. Her intentions were not merely to raze the garden to the ground but to sow the seeds of despair and ruin in Salha's life, leaving her bereft of home, sustenance, and joy.
With fervent malice, Aqissa commanded the demons to unleash their infernal might upon the sanctuary of Salha's benevolence. Yet, despite their sinister efforts, the garden remained unscathed, shielded by an unseen force, guarded by the divine hand of Providence itself. Crestfallen and humbled by their failure, the demons returned to Aqissa, their heads bowed in shame, to deliver the grim news of their thwarted endeavours.
In a rage fuelled by her burning hatred, Aqissa's resolve only hardened. Dismissing the demons with a venomous glare, she retreated to her chamber, her mind seething with dark thoughts. Once again, she convened her demonic cohorts, weaving wicked schemes in the shadowy recesses of her twisted mind.
And then, like a viper poised to strike, a wicked grin crept across Aqissa's lips as a sinister plan took shape. With chilling determination, she spoke the ominous words that would herald a new wave of torment for Salha: "Tomorrow, you will sup on tears and dine on blood." With these chilling words, Aqissa set in motion a diabolical scheme that would plunge Salha into the depths of despair and anguish.
With the first light of dawn, Salha embarked upon her customary routine, setting out to prepare breakfast before rousing her beloved sons from slumber. Yet, as her hands reached out to tenderly awaken them, she was met with a chilling emptiness—their beds lay cold and forsaken. Panic gripped her heart as she frantically searched every corner of her dwelling, her anguish mounting with each passing moment.
In her desperation, Salha turned to her fellow tribespeople, their hearts heavy with sympathy as they shared in her grief. United in their resolve, the tribe rallied together, men and women alike, determined to confront the source of Salha's torment and reclaim her stolen children. With grim determination, they marched towards the abode of the sorceress, their footsteps echoing with righteous indignation.
Arriving at the sorceress's dwelling, they were met with an eerie silence—an ominous testament to Aqissa's cunning. For she had fled under the cloak of darkness, leaving behind naught but an empty house and shattered hopes. The weight of Salha's sorrow grew heavier still as she beheld the empty threshold, her anguish compounded by the cruel realization of her children's abduction.
In the depths of her despair, Salha turned her gaze heavenward, her voice rising in a fervent plea to the divine. With tear-stained cheeks and trembling hands raised to the sky, she beseeched God to intervene, to deliver her children from the clutches of evil and to banish the sorceress's malevolent presence from their midst. In this moment of profound despair, Salha found solace in her faith, clinging to the hope that divine mercy would guide them through the darkness that had engulfed their lives.
Within the span of three days, the malevolent presence of the sorceress cast a pall over the once-thriving valley, draining its abundant resources and leaving devastation in its wake. Even the bounty of the waters, once teeming with life, succumbed to spoilage under the sorceress's sinister influence. Bewildered and desperate, the tribe grappled with the inexplicable calamity that had befallen them, their livelihoods hanging in the balance.
Amidst the turmoil, whispers spread of a strange woman who had taken up residence near the valley—an outsider whose very presence seemed to herald misfortune. Her demeanour was aloof, her countenance unsettling, and her words carried a chill that unsettled those who dared to approach her. Suspicion and fear gripped the hearts of the tribe, as they pondered the possibility of this enigmatic figure being the harbinger of their woes.
In a bid to rid themselves of this looming spectre of calamity, the tribe's leader proposed a drastic measure: to extend charity to the stranger in the form of sustenance, while simultaneously banishing her from their midst. With resolve born of desperation, the hunters gathered the sorceress's belongings and forcibly expelled her from the tribe's territory, casting her out into the wilderness beyond.
As swiftly as she had arrived, the sorceress departed, leaving in her wake a palpable sense of relief that swept over the valley like a gentle breeze. With her departure, the curse that had gripped the land was lifted, and once again, the valley flourished, its resources replenished and its waters teeming with life.
And so, the pattern repeated itself wherever the sorceress ventured—a fleeting presence, a three-day shadow cast over the land, followed by expulsion and restoration. Her malevolent magic, akin to the grip of death itself, brought suffering and despair wherever it touched, until the resilience of communities and the strength of their collective spirit rose to cast her out once more.
The sorceress's dark shadow descended upon yet another tribe, where justice reigned under the wise guidance of Judge Boumeftah, renowned for his unwavering commitment to fairness and equity. In his domain, the young and old, rich and poor found refuge from oppression, and the divine blessing of security and tranquillity graced the town.
However, the arrival of the sorceress heralded an unsettling shift within the community. Like a malignant force, discord and discontent began to spread like wildfire, as the affluent preyed upon the vulnerable and the powerful subjugated the weak. Complaints and grievances flooded the halls of justice, testing the resolve of Judge Boumeftah and challenging the very fabric of the tribe's harmony.
Perplexed by the sudden upheaval, Judge Boumeftah puzzled over the troubling turn of events, unable to discern the source of the turmoil that had gripped his once-peaceful domain. It was then that a concerned bystander, attuned to the whispers of the townsfolk, approached the judge with a revelation.
"Could it be," the man ventured, "that the arrival of a strange old woman, accompanied by two peculiar boys, has brought upon us this wave of misfortune and discord?"
With furrowed brow, Judge Boumeftah pondered the man's words, his keen sense of justice now sharpened by the weight of responsibility. For in this moment of uncertainty, the fate of the tribe hung in the balance, poised on the precipice of chaos or redemption.
With unwavering resolve, Judge Boumeftah, the paragon of justice, stood firm in his commitment to fairness and impartiality. Refusing to succumb to the whispers of suspicion or prejudice, he declared that true justice could only be served through a thorough examination of the sorceress's intentions and actions.
Summoned before the judge, the sorceress, cloaked in deception and guile, spun a tale of hardship and seeking refuge in the tribe's midst. Her words, honeyed with deceit, sought to sway the hearts of those assembled, painting her as a victim of circumstance, seeking only sanctuary for herself and her purported sons.
But Judge Boumeftah, astute and perceptive, saw through the veil of lies that shrouded the sorceress's true nature. In her eyes, he glimpsed the flicker of malice and cunning, the telltale signs of a heart steeped in darkness. And as his gaze fell upon the innocent faces of the children, their countenances bathed in purity and innocence, a stark contrast to the sinister visage of the woman before him, his suspicions only deepened.
With measured wisdom and discernment, Judge Boumeftah confronted the sorceress, casting doubt upon her carefully crafted narrative. He questioned the incongruities in her story, the glaring disparities between her age and the tender youth of the children she claimed as her own. And as the weight of his scrutiny bore down upon her, the sorceress's facade began to crumble, her trembling hands betraying the fear that gnawed at her deceitful heart.
In that moment, justice stood poised to unveil the truth, its unwavering gaze piercing through the veil of deception to reveal the darkness that lurked within. And as the sorceress quivered in the face of impending judgment, Judge Boumeftah stood resolute, a beacon of righteousness in a world fraught with deceit and treachery.
With the solemn pronouncement of judgment, Judge Boumeftah invoked the power of the starling, a harbinger of truth and justice that would serve as the arbiter of the sorceress's fate. If her words proved to be true, she would be honoured and embraced by the tribe with dignity. But if falsehood and malice poisoned her heart, she would face the depths of condemnation.
Swiftly, the sorceress found herself confined within the walls of a prison, her schemes thwarted, and her deceit laid bare. Judge Boumeftah, guided by the wisdom of his trusted starling, made the difficult decision to separate the children from her until the definitive truth could be unveiled.
As the starling took flight, its wings carrying it to distant realms in search of truth, the judge and his tribe waited with bated breath for its return. With the dawn's arrival, the starling descended, bearing news that laid bare the sorceress's malevolent deeds, from the torment inflicted upon Salha and her children to the discord sown within the very fabric of the judge's own tribe.
Fear seized the sorceress's heart as the weight of her transgressions loomed large, knowing that this time, there would be no escape from the consequences of her wickedness. In the face of undeniable truth brought forth by the judge's faithful starling, her trembling hands could no longer conceal the depths of her guilt. Justice, swift and unwavering, stood poised to deliver its final verdict, ensuring that the sorceress would face the full measure of her actions, and that righteousness would prevail over darkness once more.
In a fitting display of poetic justice, Judge Boumeftah resolved to mete out punishment to the sorceress commensurate with the harm she had wrought upon others. Calling upon his own sorcerers, he presented the sorceress with a choice: to be transformed into a frog, a fly, or a locust—a decision that would echo the havoc she had wreaked upon innocent lives.
Yet, even in the face of her impending fate, the sorceress's heart remained consumed by bitterness and vindictiveness. Though she knew her days were numbered, she clung to thoughts of vengeance against Salha, the beacon of kindness and love in a world she sought to tarnish.
Realizing the futility of resistance against the judge's sorcerers, the sorceress resigned herself to her inevitable fate. With a heavy heart, she selected the form of a locust, knowing well the devastation such creatures wrought upon the land.
As the sorcerers worked their magic, the transformation was swift and irreversible. In the blink of an eye, the sorceress vanished, replaced by a buzzing locust that took flight into the distance. With her departure, a profound sense of calm descended upon the tribe, the tumult of strife and discord giving way to the serenity of peace and harmony.
Reunited with her children, Salha's heart overflowed with gratitude and joy, her faith in divine providence reaffirmed. In the embrace of her beloved offspring, she found solace and renewal, her spirit uplifted from the depths of sorrow to the heights of jubilation. And as she looked upon the tranquil faces of her fellow tribespeople, she knew that God had not forsaken her prayers, but had answered them in the most profound and unexpected of ways.
One fateful morning, the tribe awoke to a looming black cloud advancing towards Salha's lush orchard. As the swarm descended upon the orchard, they eagerly devoured everything in sight. However, to their perplexity, each leaf they attempted to consume bore an unexpected saltiness, contrasting sharply with the orchard's typically sweet bounty of fruits—pomegranates, apples, peaches, apricots, and pears—all imbued with their natural sweetness.
Unable to satiate their hunger amidst the salty foliage, the locusts unwittingly became a delectable feast for both the affluent and the destitute members of the tribe. With deft hands, the people of the tribe captured the locusts, preparing them with various culinary techniques—frying and grilling—until their hunger was sated. This ritual continued for three days, save for one solitary locust that remained untouched. No matter how they attempted to consume it, its taste remained unbearably salty, causing them to recoil in disgust.
Unbeknownst to them, this lone locust harboured a dark secret—it was none other than the cursed sorceress who had brought calamity upon Salha and countless other tribes. The rest of the sorceress's companions met their demise, their grilled remains scattered and forgotten, at the mercy of the winds.
As the children of the tribe learned of the sorceress's fate, they commemorated the tale with a familiar melody, their voices rising in a chorus that echoed through the orchard, a testament to the triumph of goodness over evil.
"Oh, salty locust,
Whence hast thou roamed in Salha's sanctuary?
What sustenance didst thou seek?
What nectar didst thou sip?
Save for apples and pears,
And the sagacity within thy grasp,
O Judge Boumeftah."