Tag: story

I looked back at the building in the distance, my face empty of all emotions. The journey to the building and everything that had happened in the corridors of the building weighed heavily on my heart. 

After my brother’s death at my hands and my axe, Ogun had tapped his finger on his armrest once more, shaking the both of us. He was dead. I was not. But somehow, that made me worthy of god’s blessing. 

“You have proven yourself,” the shaman had said, suddenly appearing out of nowhere. “And now, you will be a warrior like none other. A warrior like mighty Ogun himself.” 

I had simply nodded then. I don’t think there was anything else I could have done. My eyes had remained on the lifeless body of my brother as his blood spread over the smooth metal floor of Ogun’s throne room. 

“Now, you must return to face the Raga!” the shaman had said. 

I had turned to face her, my hand tightening on the axe lodged in my brother’s head. Before I could react, she shouted a word and waved her hands towards me and I was suddenly thrown through a passage, out of Ogun’s room. 

By the time I hit the ground, I was outside the building. 

On my belt was my small name-day knife and the axe I had used to fight and win. Perhaps that was supposed to be god’s blessing. I wasn’t sure. It didn’t make sense. And for a while, I didn’t want it to make sense. 

Perhaps if I could treat everything as a fever dream, I could fool myself to wake up eventually. 

I tore my eyes away from the building and looked down the road that cut through the forest we had journeyed through to reach Ogun’s temple. The road looked long and windy but I knew somewhere in my heart that it was the way home. I glanced at the four other children that had been spat out from the veil across the temple entrance. 

We locked eyes but didn’t speak. There was nothing to say that hadn’t been said on their faces. The sacrifice was steep enough. 

I sighed and looked away from the haggard faces next to me and took a step onto the smooth road leading home. Perhaps it was all just a fever dream and I was returning to the waking lands. 

—

The village was in flames when we exited the forest by the mahogany tree. Cries and shouts of help filled the air immediately. The buildings I had grown up with were burning down and before we could move from our spot, we watched as the village elder ran past us before collapsing on the floor. 

One of the children with me moved forward to check the elder before stopping as blood began to gather underneath his unmoving body. We all understood what that meant. I broke away from the group and began running towards my house. 

Perhaps I could find my parents and escape the burning village. 

I ran, my legs propelling me forward faster than I had ever traveled in my life, through the burning village to my home. The cries and shouts of help were now mixed with the sound of steel and a strange sound that reminded me of thunder. 

Just as I turned the corner leading to my house, I heard a man shout in a language unknown to me just as the strange sound filled the air once more and I stopped. Ahead of me, dressed in strange clothes was a monster of pale flesh and piss-colored hair. The Raga. 

My hand felt for the axe on my belt and I yelled in rage as I ran towards the monster brandishing my axe. The monster turned slowly, suddenly aware I was behind it but before they could react, my axe removed their legs from underneath them and they screamed in pain as they fell to the ground. 

I spun, knocking the weapon from their hand as I stood over them, my small frame contrasting against theirs. The monster locked eyes with me, blue gems sparkling with anger and pain and it began to crawl away from me but I denied it the escape. 

My axe caught in the light of the sun and the monster flinched, bringing their arms out to shield themselves but it didn’t matter to me. I raised the axe up and brought it down as my mind flashed to the memory of Sogo’s death. 

I split the monster’s head, blood and head matter splattering on me. The monster’s arms fell to its chest and, placing my leg on its chest, I freed the axe from their body. 

I looked at the unmoving frame of the monster before turning and rushing to my home. The house wasn’t on fire but there was a sense of dread hanging in the air. I couldn’t see anyone at the entrance of the house and with the village burning and a few in battle against monsters, I couldn’t help but worry about my parent’s wellbeing. 

As I moved to circle the house, I gasped as I saw two bodies embracing each other close to the side of the house. There was a monster standing above them, brandishing its strange weapon at them. 

The monster snarled and said something in their strange language before the weapon cracked like lightning in the sky. Raga. I screamed as I began to run towards it. The monster turned to face me, recognition sparkling in its eye but it didn’t hesitate. The weapon in its hand spoke and I felt something hit me in the chest. 

The force was enough to stop me for a few minutes as I looked down to find small metal pieces pushing against my dark skin. I looked up at the monster and back at my chest as the strange weapon spoke with thunder once more. My body jerked backward once more, another piece of metal pushing against me. 

It was then that I understood what Ogun had done for me. 

I heard the monster say something that sounded like a curse and it pulled my attention back to them. The monster lowered its weapon, pushing some metal pieces against the side of the long spear. Without waiting, I used all my strength to throw my axe towards the monster and they reacted far too slowly to stop it. 

The axe head sunk into the space between their neck and shoulder, and after a cry of pain, the monster sank to its knees, meeting my gaze. I walked up to it, removing my axe from its neck as blood spluttered out. The monster was dead. I was alive. 

I turned to face the bodies of my parents, unmoving as they embraced each other in death. Hot tears leaked from my eyes as I looked at the axe in my hand. Blood dripped from the axe-head as if it too shared in my sorrow. 

That was the last time I cried. 

—

I forcibly removed the axe from the body of the Raga resting on the rock he had died on. My father and the tribe had called them monsters. Perhaps they are. Perhaps not. It stopped mattering when I stopped counting the bodies that fell to my axe. 

As far as they were concerned, the monsters of years past were nothing more than a different tribe. One with far more resources and power to wipe out the tribes it saw inferior to it. 

Years of battle and hunting had shown me a lot but did nothing to dull the ache in my heart and the hunger of the axe on my belt. They were the enemy. The disease that had scoured the lands of my people, reducing them to nothing but forest dwellers even as they flourished in the lands of our fathers and forefathers. 

Perhaps they didn’t all deserve death. Perhaps not. As far as my weapon and I are concerned, the Raga cannot exist while I do. Not while the rest of my clan sleep in the terror that they might not see the next day. 

The children of Ogun call me a great warrior but I hate the title. It fills me with memories I would rather forget. After all, my father used to say a good death was the end of a great warrior. 

I don’t want to be a great warrior. I am not searching for a good death. Until I end the Raga with my own hands and this cursed axe by my side, I don’t plan to die. 

Not one bit.

The earth shook ever so slightly and I came to. I was lying on my side and I think I might have fallen asleep whilst I knelt and waited for a response from my god. Still, what caught my attention were the candles that lined the small space Sogo had left me. More importantly, in the space where I had killed the animal, there was a small bowl of spiced meat still steaming hot. 

I looked at it as my stomach grumbled but I didn’t move to touch it. Not yet. Excitement filled me as I considered my brother’s return from facing whatever was chasing after us in the passageway. 

So excited was I that I pushed my head through the veil to find myself in another section of the structure. While before, the space I was in was to the side of the wall of the passageway we ran through, this time around, the passageway was directly ahead of me. If anything, it was like the space led to the passageway itself. 

I retreated back into my space immediately, silently praying for my brother to return. But I knew it was futile. Deep down, I knew the truth of the situation before me. I knew I was alone. 

My eyes fell on the spiced meat and I cautiously, using my knife, cut pieces of the meat before placing them into my mouth. My stomach groaned in appreciation and I made small work of the meat in short order. 

Once I was fed, I left the comfort of the wall-space and stepped into the passageway. It was a mistake. The moment I was free from the hole in the wall, I watched in amazement as the corridor widened as if belching and then came back together. And when I looked behind me, the wall I had come from was gone. 

Still, the passageway was lit with torches on the wall, bathing ahead of me with light. With the hole gone and my safety removed from me, I moved forward with my knife held out. I wasn’t sure what to expect but I knew I could die at any moment. 

As I walked through the torch-lit passageway, now and then, I would hear the sounds of running, roaring, and screaming which were promptly silenced in short order. My young mind then tried to suppress it but it was futile. Somewhere around me in the building, my friends were dying and I couldn’t even see them to help. 

The passageway led me straight on for hours, the tense silence punctuated by the death of my friends, and my waterskin was beginning to run low. Just before it emptied, the passageway opened up to a big hall like the one we had seen at the entrance of the building. 

I gasped as my eyes took in the hall. The hall was square in shape with two large fireplaces burning in the center of the room. The walls were covered with weapons of every type, gleaming in the light of the fire. Tall metal spires rose from the ground and went straight into the sky until I couldn’t see them anymore.

There was a deep growl and my eyes shot back down as I tried to locate what was making the noise. Ahead of me, crouching next to a massive chair were two beasts as large as the temple in the tribe. I yelped and brought my knife hand up in front of me, ready to fight, though I knew it was foolish. 

Their large red eyes glowed in the brightly lit hall and I felt malice in their gaze. Long tongues unraveled from their open mouths as they began to pant in unison. Their fangs were long and sharp, sharper than anything I had ever seen in my short life. 

One of the beasts got to their feet and moved forward, sinewy muscles tensing and flexing as if to make it known to me that I was at the end. Spittle and drool leaked from the monster’s mouth as its mouth widened into something akin to a grin. 

I was rooted to the same spot, my body unwilling to move. I was staring death in the face and my body accepted what was coming, regardless of whether or not I had a say in it. 

Just before the beast got close, a sudden bang stopped the beast in its steps and it glanced back at where it came from. I followed where the monster looked and it was then my heart dropped. In my shock and terror, I had missed the person sitting on the large chair in-between the two monsters. 

From the sheer size of the throne, the figure was taller than anything I would ever see in my life, and seeing him immediately reminded me of the mahogany tree. An earthy scent filled the air around me and for the first time since I left the village, I was brimming with energy. 

Sitting calmly and regarding me with cold silver pebbles that were his eyes, the figure raised a finger at the monster and called it back to his side. The monster snarled at me before walking back to its master. 

I knew who it was I was standing before and I prostrated on the ground before the monster had even returned to its position next to the throne. 

“Mighty Ogun, son of-”

“Quiet!” a voice whispered harshly into my ear. I turned my head a little to see the shaman lying next to me, wild eyes staring into mine. 

I bit my lip as the shaman rose to her feet and walked forward to approach the god on the throne. 

“Is he worthy?” she asked. 

I waited to hear a reply but nothing came. Instead, the shaman started laughing. I heard her steps return to me and I waited to learn what the god said when she barked at me. 

“Get up!”

I rushed to my feet in haste. 

“Ogun has called you a coward because you hid while your brothers and sisters fought. You are not a warrior,” she said, a cruel smile plastered on her face. 

“I didn’t know I was supposed to fight, Ma,” I replied, doing my best to not look at the god. 

Her smile dimmed for a bit, replaced with anger as she raised her hand to slap me. I flinched but before her hand touched me, a booming sound shook the room and I looked up to see the god had tapped a finger on the armrest of his chair. 

The shaman paused and turned around. The smoke from the fireplaces began to drift towards the god, settling just at his feet. Slowly, the smoke got thicker and thicker, darkening as it did so. And then, I noticed that the smoke was beginning to harden and move until it took the shape of a person. 

The shaman gasped and wheezed a laugh before spinning to face me. 

“Quick. Get a weapon. Get a weapon if you don’t want to die,” she said, ushering me towards a wall in haste. 

I ran to the nearest one, my eyes taking in the swords, machetes, warrior blades, shields, and axes. Without thinking, my hand closed around a weapon and I dragged it from the wall. As the weapon came free, I found myself being transported back to the center of the room, directly across from the smoky figure. 

As if spurred on by my weapon, the smoke settled into a shadow figure holding a long blade of its own. Another booming sound filled the room and the dark figure ran towards me with the weapon held high. 

My mind flashed to all the days my father had dragged me to practice fighting with my brothers, despite my protests. The weapon in my hand went up to block the shadow figure’s first attack and the ringing sound of metal against metal shook me. It was then I noticed I was carrying an axe. 

I grunted as my attacker’s leg caught me in the chest, sending me back. My leg caught something on the floor and I fell, luckily dodging my opponent’s next attack as the sword came swiping down towards me. 

Suppressing the pain that I felt as I hit the floor, I rolled away from the figure’s consistent attacks. The shadow figure moved towards me, brandishing his blade high above him and I returned the gesture, kicking him in his ankle with all the strength my small body could muster. 

The figure’s leg didn’t give away as I hoped but it was enough to make him stumble as it mixed with his movement towards me. I used the chance to return to my feet and hefted the axe in both hands. 

The axe’s metal frame seemed to grow colder as the shadow figure spun around to face me. I heard the figure curse in the ancient tongue of my tribe and I frowned. I glanced at the shaman or where the shaman was but she was nowhere to be seen. The figure ran towards me and I tried to put my father’s lessons into practice. 

I kept my distance as the figure attacked, doing my best to dodge each swipe and slash from their blade. With the figure’s height and reach better than mine, it meant I couldn’t attack as I wanted without getting closer to him. But it also meant that if I made a mistake, the blade would end my life. 

As I dodged and blocked with the axe, I couldn’t help but replay the figure’s curse in my head. Something about the voice sounded familiar but I couldn’t place my finger on it. The word had been shouted out and it had sounded human except if a human had a voice of metal. Still, I couldn’t erase it from my mind. 

Perhaps it was Ogun’s way of testing my resolve. Perhaps he chose to put me against an amalgamation of my tribe’s warriors to see how well I could protect myself.

I blocked another attack from my opponent before using all my strength to push them away from me, tripping him over as his leg hit a rock by the floor. If Ogun wanted to test me this way, then I had to put my all into the fight. My grip tightened on the handle of the axe and I shouted a war cry my father said he used whenever he fought against the enemies of the tribe. 

“Give me a good death!” I cried, my voice cracking under the gravity of the sentence. 

As my war cry filled the room, I ran with my axe and jumped to attack the shadow figure on the floor. For a moment, time seemed to slow down. The axe-head swung down towards the shadow figure’s head and in that brief moment, the figure’s identity became clear to me. 

Sogo’s eyes locked with mine and he looked at me with a pained smile on his face. The realization hit me far too late to stop my attack, with the weight of the axe propelling me on. Slowly but surely, I watched as the axe embedded itself into my eldest brother’s head.

Walking through the veil of the structure was scary, especially with the deaths of Seun and Kunle still on my mind. Sogo looked lost and haunted, and I think I understood a bit of what he was feeling. He had promised to protect me and the others. And yet, he had lost three of his younger brothers. 

Once we passed the dark shroud covering the door of the structure, we entered a large place. So large, in fact, that I couldn’t see the roof. Instead, looking up showed me the night sky which didn’t make sense. It was sunny outside and yet, I could see the stars in the sky. 

The shaman ordered us to stop then, before counting us. I counted along with her and stifled a sniff when I realized we had been cut down to just twenty. We went from fifty to twenty in just about a week. I could hear the girls in the group start to cry softly as it sunk in. Sogo’s eyes were red but he didn’t cry. 

When the shaman was done counting for herself, she told us to sit on the floor by the entrance before she disappeared down a corridor to the right of the entrance. We sat quietly even as a heavier burden rested on us. Some of the boys and girls cried while the rest just remained silent. 

I thought I would cry. I hoped I would cry. But I didn’t. I just watched and waited and silently prayed for when we would return back to our parents. 

The shaman returned after a few minutes, dragging a long wooden platform on stone wheels. On the wood, was a large drum that gave off sounds of something swishing inside it. Next to the drum was a bag that shook and squirmed. 

She stopped the wooden platform in front of us before walking to stand in between us and the items she brought. 

“Behind me,” she began in a wheezing voice that never rose higher than a loud whisper, “is water for your thirst and food for your bellies. But I must warn you…” 

The mention of food made everyone’s stomach protest but her warning tone quieted us as quickly. She moved forward towards us and brought a finger to her lips. 

“You must all be careful now,” she said. 

“Where are we, ma?” a small girl, younger than me asked.

“We are away from the world, Ajoke. We have come to ask the mighty Ogun for help,” the shaman answered. 

“Will he listen?” Sogo asked, his voice cold and edging on dangerous. 

I saw the grip on his warrior blade tighten and I touched his knees before glancing back at the shaman. Her eyes fixed intently on him and a cruel smile formed on her lips as she pointed at my brother. 

“Remove the hatred in your heart, Sogo or you will die before the day is finished,” she said to him. 

My brother frowned for a moment before relaxing the grip on his sword. His look of defiance didn’t soften. Instead, I saw his stubborn face harden. Her smile widened and I worried she was going to kill him immediately but she laughed instead. A frightening guttural laugh echoed in the structure we were in. 

She walked to the platform and opened the drum of water. She cupped her hand and took a sip from it before turning to face us. 

“Whatever you do in this space, remember… The gods are not your fathers or mothers. They do not like you, nor do they care for you. Worship them as you have and perhaps you will see your family again.” 

After that, her hands shot up above her head and she screamed in a loud shrill voice that shook the air and made my heart beat fast. There was a ripping sound, like someone’s cloth was being torn and in that instant, the shaman was gone. 

For a moment, we all stood in without a sound as the darkness around us seemed to dim as if it was creeping closer to us. And then, Sogo ran forward towards the drum, dragging me by the hand. He put his face into the drum, followed by the waterskin he carried by the side. Then he pushed my head into the drum too before I was pushed away by the other children. 

Soon enough, all twenty children were running forward towards the drum to drink some water while I tried to catch my breath. As I sputtered and gasped, the bag next to the drum squirmed again and the binding at the mouth of the sack came loose. 

Suddenly, soft white fluffy animals shot out and began hopping away from us in speed. Sogo was already up by now, chasing one of the animals down a strange corridor. I rushed to my feet and raced after him. By the time I caught up with him, he had the animal by its long ears and he smiled tiredly at me. 

“Look, Jide… We have some food!” he said in excitement before breaking into a short laugh. 

I smiled back at him widely, before glancing back to see if the others were lucky in their chases. Except there was nothing to see behind us. The laugh died on his face as we both stared down a long empty corridor that got increasingly dark the farther it went. 

“Sogo…” I said, fear gripping my heart. 

A sound traveled down the corridor, something akin to a roar and I shivered from top to bottom. 

“Brother…” I said again. 

Sogo put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me back slowly to stand behind him. 

“When I say so, start running okay?” he whispered. 

The sound repeated itself, louder this time and the air in front of us shook like it was a cloth in the wind. I shook with it, relieving myself without meaning to. Sogo pushed me faster behind him. He grabbed my hand and spoke quickly. 

“Start running,” he said and we began running down the corridor. 

As we ran, I could hear the sound of something chasing us from behind but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. Sogo kept pulling me ahead shouting that I keep running. And I kept running. 

But we couldn’t outrun whatever was chasing us. If anything, the sounds and roars behind us were getting louder. 

Suddenly, there was a small opening ahead of us. A small space was carved into the wall of the corridor. Sogo stopped as soon as we got close, pulling me as I tried to keep running ahead. He pushed me into the space and removed the waterskin from his shoulder before handing it to me. 

Then, with a brutality I didn’t know my brother had, he broke the neck of the animal he had been carrying before handing the animal over to me. 

“Wait here, Jide. I can’t fight and protect you at the same time. Hide here. I will kill the monster chasing us and come back for you,” Sogo said. 

“No. Don’t go. Please stay,” I protested but he shook his head hastily. 

“Jide. I’ll be fine. I promised to protect you. Be quiet. I’ll be quick,” he said before running his hand through my hair and disappearing from my sight. 

So I waited. 

And while I waited, I thought about how my brothers had died so carelessly, both in the forest and in the river. I thought about the whole journey. I thought about the shaman’s words and her disappearance. But her words rang in me a bit longer. 

“Whatever you do in this space, remember… The gods are not your fathers or mothers. They do not like you, nor do they care for you. Worship them as you have and perhaps you will see your family again.”

I looked at the dead animal next to me and it occurred to me that I wasn’t hungry. That I hadn’t been hungry since my brothers were drowned and killed in the river. I remembered the mahogany tree back home. And I remembered how much the structure had reminded me of the tree. 

Slowly, I dragged the body of the animal and laid it in front of me. I removed the small sky rock blade my father gave to me for my main day and positioned the tip just above the breast of the animal. 

I remembered what the shaman did during such sacrificial rituals and figured I could try and do the same. I figured, if I could play the shaman in my childhood games then maybe I can do it for real. 

The black blade pierced into the animal smoothly and the red color of life burst out of its body, splashing on my face and my lips. A warmth enveloped my hands as the blade sunk deeper and I found myself trying to breathe. I thought my hand would shake at the taking of life but it was steady. 

I removed the blade and sunk it deeper before using the sharp side to widen the cut in the animal. Just like the shaman would do, I removed all I could from the inside of the animal and laid it in front of me. 

Then, I changed my position to kneel. 

“Ogun, of might and iron, please accept this sacrifice from your servant,” I whispered in a level voice. 

I didn’t know what to expect but I bowed my head with my hands outstretched towards the entrance of the small space. 

Then I continued waiting.

I never understood how deep the forest was until I began marching through it with my brothers and some of the other children from the tribe. We had left the morning after my father’s retelling. 

If only I knew that was the last time things were going to be normal. I would never have left. The prize was not worth the effort or the process it took to attain it. The Raga are monsters. 

In front of us, leading the fifty children of Ogun, was the Elder’s second wife. She was the acting shaman of our tribe, the priestess by which we prayed to our god, Ogun. She, along with her husband, told us what our god required from us each year and we would do our best to meet it. 

It was a surprise when she began the journey as our leader but soon enough, the surprise waned. Tearful goodbyes and last hugs with our parents were the only things in our minds as we navigated deeper into the forest. Soon enough, all we saw were trees and visions of trees. 

Over us, the sun went down and a full moon replaced it in the sky. The forest was bathed in the blue light of the moon and the shaman, Okoye, lit torches for the eldest of the children to carry. 

On my belt, I wore the knife my father had given me for my seventh name-day. It wasn’t the best-looking knife but the handle was covered with the fur of a bear father had killed and the blade had been carved from a black rock that fell from the sky, according to his account. 

The wooden handle was cut from the mahogany tree at the center of the village, an act that was only permitted by the shaman and no one else. 

“The tree is the gods and the gods keep it,” mother had explained. 

The knife was in my hand now as we walked deeper into the forest. All around me, my brothers and friends had their weapons in hand. Some were carrying bows and short knives, while others had machetes and warrior blades. Those were our elders. They were the ones who weren’t quite warriors yet but had begun their training. And Sogo was one of them. 

He locked eyes with me, his dark brown eyes catching the light of the torch in his hand and he smiled at me assuringly like he always did. He sheathed the blade back on his belt and ruffled my curled hair with his free hand. 

“Don’t worry, Jide. I will keep you all safe from whatever comes our way,” he whispered to me before gently pushing me on. 

His words settled my restlessness and I nodded and pushed forward with the rest of the children. We had no idea where we were going, except that we were to keep walking until the shaman determined that we had walked far enough. 

Still, we kept walking. Around us in the dark, animal noises filled the air and increased the tension in the group but the shaman didn’t stop. If I remember correctly, she even sped up as if trying to get to the destination in time. 

At a point, our slow creep through the forest had turned into a run and by the time she told us to slow down, we were panting for air and begging for water. We didn’t get any, save from the already emptying waterskins the eldest children carried. And yet, the shaman didn’t stop. And along the way, we lost ten from our group to exhaustion and thirst. 

We were lucky in this regard, my brothers and I because father had taken it upon himself to train us to go on for hours without rest or water. I still don’t believe it was because he expected this to happen but I was glad that the training kept us alive. Largely. 

Sometimes, Elder Okoye would allow us to rest, but only for a few hours before the journey started again. 

Day turned to night, which turned to day. And then the cycle continued. Hunger gnawed at us and thirst clawed at our throats but the shaman didn’t stop. She just kept moving like she was unaffected by what we were feeling. Perhaps she was. That is something I will never find out.

Regardless, Deji, my five-year-old brother, didn’t make it past the fourth day before he collapsed on the floor for good. 

It was on the seventh day that we finally got the chance to stop. 

By this time, blisters had formed underneath our feet and it was increasingly difficult to focus on moving. The shaman didn’t stop but she slowed down a bit and we took some rest from it. The sun had risen for the day and it bathed us with its warmth which felt oppressive in our thirsty state. 

And yet, there was something about it. Something strange. As thirsty, tired, and hungry as I was, I couldn’t help but feel like there was something wrong with the day. I wasn’t sure if it was the sun, or the way I felt, or how far the shaman appeared to be from the group. 

I mentioned it to Sogo and he frowned before hobbling forward faster to catch up to her and as if on cue, the shaman began to run. The rest of us tried to catch up with her, struggling as we increased our speed but by the time we went through the group of trees that she passed, we had lost her. 

And gained something different. 

As we passed through the trees, we burst out of the forest into a large clearing that seemed to stretch from end to end with no more trees in sight. The ground was different, hardened and yet, smooth and cool to the touch. Cautiously, we all exited the forest and stepped on the strange ground. 

Ahead of us, was a structure, unlike anything we had seen before. It stood taller than most of the trees we had walked past in the forest but the more I stared at it, the more it reminded me of the mahogany tree back home. 

Looking at it filled me with an intense sense of dread that increased with each second. The entrance to the place was open but even in the light of the sun, it just looked like a black cloth had been placed across it. Like a shadow veil that we will have to cross. I blinked as I noticed a ripple in the shadow veil. 

Like someone else was present in our vicinity. I took a step forward without meaning to and tried to be sure that I saw someone beyond the door. 

A shout of celebration broke my gaze with the veil and I looked down to see a river bank separating the strange, smooth road from the building. 

At once, all the children rushed forward and I found myself running along, my mind suddenly filled with the thought of water on my lips and down my throat. Kunle and Seun had jumped in already and were swimming in it. Sogo was just behind me, along with a few other children as we raced towards the water. 

I was a step away from the water, already filled with playing children when I froze and looked up once more. 

Across the river, standing at the other side, was the shaman. We all stopped, even those in the water. The shaman looked down at them and shook her head in disappointment. Before we could do anything, all the children in the river disappeared under and they didn’t resurface. 

Slowly, to our horror and immediate understanding, the river changed from the bright blue it was, to a deepening red. In that instant, I had lost both of my brothers.