The Heart of A Monkey

By Aria Spencer-Carter

Keema—the monkey (whose name is not Rafiki)—was best friends with Simba—who is obviously a lion—ever since they were kids. But Keema’s dad always warned her, “Don’t trust lions. Don’t give them your heart.” But she never listened, Simba wasn’t like that.

So years and years later, Keema was picking the best leaves off of a nearby mkooyoo tree when Simba walked by.

“Hey, Keema, what’s up?” He hollered up to her in the tree.

“Oh, nothing much. Just picking leaves, wanna help?”

“Sure, why not?” Simba said, starting to pick leaves off of the low parts of the tree where the branches hung down. While they were picking, Simba said, “My family said you should come visit them with me sometime.”

“I don’t know, maybe. When?”

Simba shrugs. “I’m visiting there next week.”

“Okay.”

Later that night Keema told her dad about visiting the lion’s kingdom sometime.

“Do you know why I always warn you about the lions?” He asked her.

“No, why?”

“Because when you were young your mom walked through the lion kingdom, and I never saw her again. I don’t trust lions and I don’t think you should either.”

“I’ll be with Simba; you know he’s not like that!”

“Still, I don’t think it’s the best idea.”

The next week, Keema decided to not listen to her dad’s advice and go to the lion kingdom with Simba anyway.

Simba walked by her house in the treetops early in the morning. “You ready yet, Keema?”

“Yeah, I can’t wait to see the lion’s kingdom! I’ve only ever been in this one my whole life and I’ve always wanted to travel.” She swang down from the tree and landed on Simba’s back as he walked them to the Kingdom of the Lions.

After a few days they reached their destination.

Keema’s eyes widen at how many lions there were, the savanna, and how everything was different from the forest as Simba walked into town.

When he finally reached the castle, he let Keema climb off of him. “Here, this is where my parents live.”

He opened the door, and they walked into a palace made of gold and silver and glass as far as the eye could see.

“Wow! Your parents live here! This is nice!” Keema exclaims.

“Yes, very nice indeed.” Simba’s mom—who’s name could easily be Sarabi, but it really doesn’t matter—walked in from the other room lowered to the ground as if she could attack at any moment.

“Hi, I’m Keema, your son’s friend!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I really don’t care. Do you want to know the reason why you’re really here?” Sarabi walked closer and closer. (Yeah, I’m just calling her Sarabi, okay?) She didn’t let Keema talk; she just went on: “The reason is the king is sick and the only thing that could cure him is the heart.” Sarabi sat down right in front of Keema and hissed, “Of a monkey. That’s why you are here today.” Then she got up and began to circle her. “Why do you think I sent my son to live in the Forests of the Monkeys with his aunt for all these years? For the heart. Of a monkey. That’s why he became your friend. For the heart. Of a monkey. You think he’s really your friend? He’s not. Everything he does. Everything I do. Is for the heart. Of a monkey.”

“Is this true, Simba? Is this true?” Keema asked.

Simba coughs nervously, looking down at his paws on the floor. “Yeah, it is,” He mumbles after a while.

Keema had to think of something on the spot; her mind raced, she needed to think of something and quick. “Well, then, why didn’t you tell me before? Then I would have brought my heart. Now I don’t have it with me!”

“Where is it?” Simba asked.

“In my mkooyoo tree. Where all monkeys keep their hearts; tangled in the roots of their favourite mkooyoo tree. I mean, seriously!—you lived your whole life alongside monkeys, yet you still don’t know a thing about them.”

“Okay, fine, then. I’ll take you back to your mkooyoo tree.” Simba agreed reluctantly. I mean, he really didn’t have another choice, now, did he?

Simba and Keema made their way back to the forests. Once they reached Keema’s mkooyoo tree, she climbed up and stayed there for a while.

After a little bit, Simba called up to her, “Do you have your heart now?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then why aren’t you coming down yet?”

“Because if you trick me once, it’s your fault. If you trick me twice—you aren’t tricking me twice. I’m keeping my heart.”

And she would never let her heart be taken from her.

Ever.

- Total nr. of readings: 198 Copyright © The author [2020] All Rights Reserved. This story may not be reproduced without the express written permission of the author except for personal use.