Chapter 11: Under the Bed

Late for night, as I dey half sleep, the cowrie pendant for my pocket just begin hot. I remember Baba Afolabi talk. I jump wake, quick crawl under bed.

My back dey scratch floor, dust dey my nose. My heart dey drum for chest, sweat dey my palm. The air cold, like say freezer dey for room. I no care if dust full my cloth, I remember wetin Baba Afolabi talk—no sleep on top bed.

I never even settle finish when, like two minutes later, door open small. Na so cold just grip my body, like say dem throw me inside freezer. But na August—e no suppose cold like this.

Even breeze no dey blow, but my teeth dey knock. My ears dey pick every sound, as if spirit dey pass. August for our place na rain, not cold, but this cold na another thing.

I hold my breath, wan see who enter. For moonlight, I see one pair of blood-red slippers. I smell camphor and ashes, the kind smell wey dey follow burial cloth. The more I look, the more e resemble something I sabi. I think well, na then I remember—na the same slippers my sister-in-law dey wear before.

My mind fly, my hand dey shake. For village, red slippers for dead body mean serious wahala. I remember how she dey waka round, the slippers dey drag ground. Now, the sound dey echo for my ear.

Fear grip me, my teeth dey shake. I bite my wrist make I no shout.

Blood small come out, but I no care. If I shout, people go know, but spirit fit vex. I close my eyes, dey pray inside my heart—"God, abeg, no let me die tonight."