Chapter 1: When Evil Broke the Mountain

Late 1990s, our village saw evil we never believed possible—one that scattered sense and broke the heart of the mountain itself.

That year, even the breeze dey move somehow—like the air self don hear about the abomination wey land for our soil. For here, evil dey hide under mountain shadow, waiting for night to show face. The elders, who gathered every evening by the roadside chewing kolanut and spinning stories, would later whisper that even the gods close eye for our matter that year.

In one quiet village up the mountain, a whole family was wiped out.

You know how mountain villages be—where neighbours fit hear each other cough but everybody dey mind their lane. But this one pass anything we don ever see before, not even when malaria scatter everywhere or lightning jam the sacred iroko tree. This one dark—like the mountain itself dey hold breath.

The parents, both in their fifties, and their son who was almost thirty, all died a terrible death inside their own house.

People sabi say them be strong, hard-working farmers—the kind wey hand always red from cassava and soil, their laughter fit shake the rafters during New Yam festivals, and the smell of roasting yam always drift from their kitchen. Now, their laughter disappear. Even the chickens outside their compound dey behave as if them sense say wahala don land.

After our investigation, we pointed fingers at the family’s would-be daughter-in-law as the main suspect.

You fit feel how fear dey spread for the village—people dey lock door sharp-sharp as dusk reach, eyes dey follow anybody wey waka pass, especially stranger or anybody wey tongue no pure like us. Market women go dey count change, muttering and crossing themselves at the same time. But suspicion, as always, stick fastest to the outsider.

But that one no mean say case don close just like that.

Even the DPO from town, man wey dey boast say nothing dey shake am, talk say this case na puzzle wey fit confuse spirits self. Whispers full everywhere: Na juju? Or something wey old pass us?

None of us knew—the real nightmare never even start.

That night, even the crickets wey dey make noise for bush quiet—like everybody dey wait for the story to unfold. The air heavy; everybody know for heart say evil no dey waka alone.

Not only because the supposed daughter-in-law vanish like that, but even more so...

People gather by the stream dey gossip, dey wonder how person fit disappear like morning dew. Some say dem see her shadow dey slip between trees for dusk, but when we search, nothing. Some mothers lock their daughters inside, fear catch them say the same wahala fit reach their house.

She be university student. And na force dem take do her.

People repeat am like prayer—she no be ordinary girl, na one of the few wey waka go city, wear the gown of knowledge. That something fit bring her down from such height and drag her into madness na the one wey really dey worry everybody.