
Something has been hunting this city for more than three months now. Do you know that another child went missing in the creek that leads to the waterfall? Pete, his name. He was last seen in the woods, where he played fetch with his dog. A search party was organized when the news reached the village as shrills from his mother, who would not stop trying to strip herself naked, and by nightfall this search party had combed the entire woods in search of the child. Nothing.
During the search, I wandered into some cave beneath the waterfall, and I discovered something strange: a small black stone, some symbols carved on it. The inscription on the stone was “procure at your own peril, a complete symbiosis might unleash Tafo.” I don’t know what made me leave the others, but I did. It felt like this stone in my hand had been pulling me, guiding my feet to itself.
The headaches began soon after that evening.
I would wake up each morning with a pounding in my skull, one that made me wince and wince and sometimes cry. A weird feeling accompanied these headaches; this was probably due to the nightmares. Terrible, terrible nightmares, I tell you. Ones that would have me writhing and writhing atop the bed. In them, I was something I didn’t want to be. That’s all I remember when I wake up.
*
Another child has gone missing.
Jon Bubu. Pieces of what seems to be his brain are smeared across the ground. His eyeball is by the foot of the almond tree whose branches overlook the path, torn apart limbs scattered around. A week before today, it was the blacksmith. This one’s death was just as gory. Pieces of the dark man littered all over the place; blood, severed limbs, intestine swarming with flies.
The town is now nothing like it used to be; with four deaths recorded in just four months, a lot of people are leaving. Markets are almost empty these days. Only an old and scrawny woman dares stay past sunset. She’s not scared of dying.
Mr Barko, a merchant, isn’t too. He says he would not leave. He owns a small estate here, and says he cannot abandon a place that has become his home. This man’s routine remains the same: every evening, he drives his family up town, mostly his kids—his wife barely leaves home. One can hear the humming of his car engine as he drives by.
Mr. Barko has two daughters and a son. The boy’s called Daniel. Daniel wandered into the woods at the north side of their estate last evening, and went missing. Mr. Barko wasted no time. He informed the search party, and we were out at once.
The creature lurked behind the trees, watching the boy keenly. It growled quietly and lowered itself as the boy came closer. This is the story Weyo tells me. He said I changed my mind about coming with them. I don’t remember that. I don’t remember anything. My shoulder hurts badly. Weyo tells the story with much pride, his voice thick with pride. He says, lurking behind a tree, they watched the creature leap towards the boy. And just as its fangs were about to grasp the child’s neck, an arrow was let lose, finding a home on the creature’s back.
It let out a shrill, turning in the direction where the search party was hid. And the chase began. In the end, the creature lost. It was sent scurrying away, a loser.
The pounding in my head starts again; pain, raw, jarring into my skull.
“Arghh!” I hold my eyes, wincing.
“What is it? What is it?” Weyo holds my shoulder. I let out a scream.
There is warmth around my back now?
“Why is there blood on your shoulder?” Weyo asks, bemused. “Why is there an arrow at the edge of your bed!?”
The Author:

Richard Ogar is an indigene of Etung local government in cross river state. He has a diploma in computer science. He’s a pan-Africanist, a humanitarian and a lover of culture and art.