Ezekiel escorts Amina back to her family's compound in silence, his grip on her arm firm but not unkind. The village is quiet now, the only sounds the distant barking of dogs and the occasional rustle of palm fronds in the evening breeze. When they reach her gate, Ezekiel gives her a stern look. "Be careful, Amina. The river is no place for young girls at night. Spirits or no spirits, it's dangerous."
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Amina nods, too shaken to argue. She murmurs a quiet "Thank you, Uncle Ezekiel," before slipping inside.
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***
The smell of egusi soup and pounded yam fills the small dining room, but Amina's appetite is gone. Her mother, **Mama Nkechi**, is already seated, her face a mask of disapproval. Her father, **Papa Chukwuma**, sits at the head of the table, his expression unreadable as he scoops soup onto his plate.
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"Where have you been?" Mama Nkechi demands as soon as Amina sits down. Her voice is sharp, cutting through the quiet like a knife. "Do you know what time it is? Do you want to give me a heart attack?"
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Amina opens her mouth to explain, but the words stick in her throat. How can she tell them about the child, the cat, the song, the tentacles? They'll think she's gone mad.
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"I... I was just outside," she stammers, avoiding her mother's gaze.
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"Outside doing what? Following boys?" Mama Nkechi's voice rises, her hands gesturing wildly. "Amina, are you trying to get pregnant? Is that what you want? To ruin your life before it even starts?"
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Amina flinches, her cheeks burning with shame. "Mama, it's not like that—"
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"Then what is it like?" her mother interrupts. "You think because you're in school, you can do whatever you want? Eh? You think you're too clever to listen to your parents?"
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Papa Chukwuma clears his throat, his deep voice cutting through the tension. "Enough, Nkechi. Let the girl eat."
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Mama Nkechi glares at him but says nothing more. The rest of the meal passes in tense silence, broken only by the clink of spoons against plates.
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After dinner, Amina picks up a kerosene lamp and prepares to retreat to her room. She's eager to lose herself in a book, to escape the weight of her mother's disappointment and the lingering fear of what happened at the river. But before she can leave, Papa Chukwuma speaks.
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"Amina, sit down. I have something to say."
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Reluctantly, she obeys, setting the lamp on the table and sitting on the edge of her chair.
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"I've been speaking with my friend, **Chief Emeka**," her father begins, his tone matter-of-fact. "His son, **Ifeanyi**, is a good boy. He's studying engineering at the university in Lagos. I think he would make a fine husband for you."
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Amina's heart sinks. "Papa, I'm still in school. I want to focus on my studies."
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Papa Chukwuma frowns, his bushy eyebrows drawing together. "And what good will that do? You're failing your classes, Amina. Do you think education will feed you? I married your mother when she was still in school, and we've built a good life together."
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Mama Nkechi cuts in sharply, her voice softer now but no less firm. "Chukwuma, let the girl breathe. She's young. There's time for marriage later."
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Papa Chukwuma sighs, his stern expression softening slightly. He looks at Amina, his dark eyes searching hers. "What do you need for your studies?"
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Amina hesitates, then says, "I need some books, Papa. For literature and biology. They're part of the curriculum."
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Her father nods, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wad of naira notes. He counts out **₦5,000** and hands it to her. "Buy what you need. But remember, education is not everything. A woman must have a husband, a home."
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Amina takes the money, her fingers trembling slightly. "Thank you, Papa. I'll think about what you said."
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As she stands to leave, her father calls after her. "Amina."
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She turns, the lamp casting a warm glow on her face. "Yes, Papa?"
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"Goodnight," he says, his voice gruff but not unkind.
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"Goodnight, Papa," she replies, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I love you."
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He doesn't respond, but the way his eyes soften tells her everything she needs to know. She leaves the room, her parents' voices fading as they turn their attention to the evening news on the old television in the corner.
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The Blank Books:
Inside her room, Amina sits at her wooden desk, the kerosene lamp casting flickering shadows on the walls. She opens her biology textbook, determined to study, but the words swim before her eyes. No matter how hard she tries, she can't focus. The pages seem to blur, the text fading into incomprehensible gibberish. Frustrated, she flips back and forth, hoping to find something she can understand, but it's no use.
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Then, something strange happens. The words on the page begin to disappear, leaving behind blank, white sheets. Before she can process what's happening, new words start to form—lyrics, written in a flowing, elegant script. They're the same lyrics from the song by the river:
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*"My beautiful Amina, come to me, come to me,
Troubled by the problems of the world, come to me, come to me..."*
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Amina's heart pounds as the lyrics seem to hum in her head, the melody growing louder and more insistent. Her body stiffens, her muscles locking in place. From the corner of the room, a figure emerges, illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp. It's a woman—Mami Wata. Her beauty is breathtaking, her skin glowing like moonlight, her eyes deep and hypnotic. She smiles, her voice soft and melodic.
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"Come to me, Amina."
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Amina's body moves against her will, her legs carrying her toward the spirit. She tries to resist, to scream, but no sound comes out. The pull is too strong, too enchanting. Just as she's about to reach Mami Wata, she manages to break free for a moment, stumbling backward. But then, something even more terrifying happens—her body begins to levitate, floating toward the spirit as if gravity no longer applies.
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Just as she's about to be pulled into Mami Wata's grasp, a sharp knock on the window shatters the trance. Amina jolts awake, her heart racing. She's slumped over her desk, a small pool of drool staining the pages of her book. The room is quiet, the kerosene lamp still burning steadily.
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She hears the knock again, softer this time. Rubbing her eyes, she rushes to the window and pulls back the curtain. Standing outside is **Emeka**, a boy from her school. He's wearing nothing but his sleeping shorts, shivering slightly in the cool night air.
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"What are you doing here?" Amina whispers, her voice a mix of surprise and annoyance.
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"Let me in first," Emeka replies, his teeth chattering.
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Amina hesitates, then glances over her shoulder to make sure her parents aren't around. She opens the window just enough for Emeka to climb through. He lands softly on the floor, his bare feet making no sound.
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Emeka grins, his unkempt hair and patchy goatee making him look both boyish and mischievous. "I missed you," he says, his voice low. "I followed you home the other day. I just... wanted to see you."
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Amina rolls her eyes but can't help smiling. They sit on the edge of her bed, talking in hushed tones about the holiday, school, and their plans for the next semester. Emeka is funny and charming, and despite his scruffy appearance, Amina finds herself drawn to him.
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As they talk, their eyes meet, and for a moment, the world seems to fade away. Emeka leans in, his face inches from hers. Amina's heart skips a beat, but before their lips can meet, there's a sharp knock at the door.
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"Amina!" her father's voice booms from the other side.
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Panicked, Emeka dives under the bed, his breathing shallow. Amina quickly smooths her hair and opens the door.
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"Are you laughing by yourself?" Papa Chukwuma asks, his brow furrowed as he steps into the room.
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"I... I read something funny in my book," Amina stammers, her voice trembling slightly.
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Her father looks around the room, his sharp eyes scanning every corner. For a moment, Amina is sure he'll find Emeka, but then he hands her a bowl of ice cream.
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"Your mother wants you to have this," he says, his tone softening. "Eat it, and don't stay up late laughing with your books."
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He lingers for a moment, his gaze sweeping the room once more, before finally leaving. Amina lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
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***
Under the bed, Emeka is frozen in fear. As he listens to Amina's father's voice, his heart pounds so loudly he's sure it will give him away. The room feels colder now, the shadows deeper. He shifts slightly, trying to get comfortable, when suddenly—he feels it.
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A hand grabs his ankle.
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Emeka's breath catches in his throat. The grip is firm, almost painful, and he can't tell if it's Amina's father reaching under the bed or something far worse. His mind races. If it's her father, he's dead. The man is ex-military, a sprinter, and there's no way Emeka can outrun him—especially not with a cutlass in hand. But if it's not her father...
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He dares to glance down, his eyes straining in the darkness. What he sees makes his blood run cold. A long, dirt-covered finger is wrapped around his ankle, the nails jagged and blackened. The hand is attached to an arm that seems to stretch impossibly far into the shadows under the bed. Emeka's gaze follows the arm, and his stomach churns as he sees the creature's glowing eyes staring back at him.
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The creature's face is grotesque, its skin mottled and peeling, its teeth jagged and yellow. It presses a finger to its lips, gesturing for Emeka to stay silent. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, it releases his ankle and retreats into the shadows, disappearing as if it were never there.
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Emeka's heart is pounding so hard he feels like it might burst. He wants to scream, to scramble out from under the bed and run as far as he can, but he knows he can't. Amina's father is still in the room, and the cutlass hanging on the wall is a stark reminder of the consequences of being caught.
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Just as Emeka is about to lose his composure, he hears Amina's voice.
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"Have you slept under there already? Come out, my father is gone."
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Emeka hesitates for a moment, his eyes darting to the spot where the creature disappeared. When he's sure it's gone, he crawls out from under the bed, his hands trembling. He looks into Amina's eyes, and for a moment, the fear fades. Her beauty is enchanting, her presence calming.
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"You okay?" Amina asks, noticing the sweat on his brow.
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"Yeah, I'm fine," Emeka lies, forcing a smile. "Just... cramped under there."
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They chat for a while longer, but Emeka can't shake the image of the creature. When he finally notices the time—10 p.m.—he knows he has to leave.
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