Chapter 5: Halima’s Horror

About two months after, one evening, small rain dey fall. The sky dark, lightning dey flash. Road dey wet, everywhere quiet. I dey try close shop.

You know that kind Eko evening wey rain go soak everywhere, NEPA go carry light, the whole street go silent, only sound na frog and small generator far far away. I dey pack table, sweep floor, my mind dey do me one kind. Na so wahala dey start for Lagos.

As I wan lock door, I see one pale face press for my glass, fear catch me, I shout.

My heart fly commot from my chest. The face dey like ghost, skin white like chalk, eye black like fresh charcoal. As I step back, my hand dey shake, sweat dey my palm. That face look me, then give me one wicked smile.

As I look well—no be Halima, the girl wey do five-headed deity for my shop?

My mouth open, words no fit come out. The kind transformation wey I see, na only for juju film I don watch before. But her face don pale, get one kind blue colour, two big dark circles under her eyes. She no be like the lively girl I see before.

Even though I dey fear, as she be Yusuf babe, I gats respect.

For Naija, no matter wetin happen, you gats show face for big man people. I open door quick, welcome her inside.

"Sorry, everywhere dark, I no see you well. Wetin bring you come? The tattoo fade or you dey feel somehow?"

As I dey talk, I turn go pour her water.

For my mind, I dey recite Psalm 23 for under breath. Na so old mama dey teach us—if you jam spirit for night, abeg, hold your faith well.

Halima no collect the cup. Instead, she waka near me like water snake, come whisper for my ear:

Her movement no be like before—her leg no dey touch ground well, as if breeze dey carry her. "Master Aman, wetin you really draw for my body?"

My body cold, I dey fear to even answer. "The five-headed deity, na the design wey young prince give me."

Next thing, she push me, shout, "You dey lie! A’Yusuf no fit harm me!"

Her voice sharp, carry power, echo for my small shop. She tear her shirt, expose her white belle.

After one, two months, her belle don swell, like say she don reach four or five months pregnant.

The sight shock me. Na so I take two steps back, my hand dey shake. "Talk true, wetin you do wey make me dey dream of man every night and belle just enter quick like this? Talk!"

Her face twist like ghost, and the five-headed deity for her belle—before, the eyes close—now as her skin dey stretch, the eyes dey open small small. The deity limbs just dey spread like tree branch, the legs nearly reach her private part, fear just catch me. This one pass my power. Na only God fit judge this matter.

My voice crack, "No worry, I go check am well, I go get back to you." I try calm myself, dey try calm the woman wey dey craze for my front.

Sweat dey my armpit, my mind dey think fast—if this girl do anything, who go believe say no be me? All my years for tattoo work, I never see this kind thing.

"Okay, I go wait. I go come back in three days."

Her voice change—no be the sharp one again, e soft, dey sweet, seductive pass before. I nod, see her commot. As I watch her shadow disappear, I quickly pull down my shop shutter, lock glass door, run upstairs, enter my room, paste the small prayer paper wey remain for my wall.

For Naija, small prayer paper dey everywhere—inside bus, shop, even inside car. My own na the one wey my mama buy for Oke-Ado crusade. That night, I no sleep. My eye wide open, dey look ceiling, dey pray.

As I lock my shop, I swear, even my shadow dey fear to follow me go upstairs.