The morning air was warm, carrying the scent of dust and frying akara from the street vendors nearby. Yawning, I swung my legs off the bed, stretching, and let my bare feet touch the cool tiles.
Outside, the city of Birnin Kebbi was waking slowly. The distant calls of hawkers and the hum of motorcycles blended into the usual morning rhythm.
In the kitchen, my sister laughed at something on her phone. "Chiroma! Breakfast's getting cold. Hurry up!"
"Okay I day come!" I replied..
At the dining table I grabbed a piece of bread and poured tea into a cup, leaning against the counter. Mom hummed quietly as she stirred her own cup. The sunlight cut through the window and hit the table just right, making the silverware glint. I noticed it for a moment, shrugged, and sipped my tea.
"How's the studies Roma?" Mum said, even though I don't really fancy that nickname maybe because it sounds feminine but I don't mind it as long as she's the one who uses it to address it.. "it's been going well mom, it's just recently I don day notice symptoms of malaria for my body so e day distract me sometimes" mum looked at me in surprise and hurriedly went to a drawer to take some malaria drugs to give to me, " my boy day try take care of yourself, remember as long as you day healthy and alive, I go day content"...
"Hmm" I nodded positively to mum's words, my sister was still busy with her phone and eating not minding our discussions.
After breakfast, I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked out into the narrow streets. Vendors shouted, bicycles rattled past, and stray dogs darted between the stalls. I walked slowly, letting my eyes drift across the city. Nothing in Birnin Kebbi ever stayed the same for long, and yet the rhythm felt predictable, almost comforting.
The Government Day Secondary School gates were busy. Students poured out of buses, chatting and jostling. I waved at a few friends and made my way to my usual spot under the mango tree, the sun hot on my back. Musa sat beside me, dropping his bag with a thud.
"You're late today," he said, smirking.
"Traffic was… weird," I replied, shrugging.
He rolled his eyes and nudged me with his elbow. "You always have some excuse."
The branches above rustled even though the wind had died down. Shadows stretched and twisted slightly, forming patterns that didn't match the sun. I glanced at them, blinked, and turned my attention back to Musa. Things like that happened sometimes. I didn't think about them much—they were just… there.
Classes dragged on. Teachers spoke, students scribbled, and the sunlight through the windows shifted across the walls. On the way back from math, I noticed the reflection of a water bottle on a desk linger longer than it should, the edges wobbling slightly. I shook my head and moved on.
By the time school let out, the afternoon sun was harsh, washing the streets in gold. I walked home slowly, noticing the usual chaos: motorcycles weaving, vendors packing up, children running barefoot. The city had a pulse I had learned to follow.
Then I saw it.
Down a side street near the edge of my neighborhood, a small crowd had gathered. People whispered, pointing, their voices hushed but urgent. I pushed through and froze. A man lay on the ground, motionless, a dark stain spreading across his chest. A knife glinted in the dirt beside him.
Someone screamed. Mothers grabbed their children. A motorcyclist skidded to a stop. I stepped closer, heart hammering, but kept my distance. Nobody seemed to notice me—or maybe nobody cared. The city carried on around it, ordinary life pressed against the horror like a thin, fragile line.
I swallowed, my hands tightening on the straps of my bag. The sun cast long shadows across the scene, and for a brief moment, it felt like the city itself was holding its breath. Then, as quickly as it had happened, the police arrived. The crowd began parting, murmurs begin fading into silence, but the image stayed with me.
By the time I reached home, the smell of cooking filled the apartment again. Mom and my sister didn't mention anything. I ate my dinner quietly, glancing out the window at the streets below, still shimmering with heat. Life moved forward, indifferent. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. Something about that day in Birnin Kebbi—something about the man on the street—was… different.
The next morning, the city of Birnin Kebbi was quieter than usual. Smoke from roadside grills hung lazily in the air, and the sun carved long, golden beams across the streets. I stepped out of my house, tying my shoes slowly, feeling the rough cement under my fingers as I bent down. The events of yesterday were still lingering at the edge of my thoughts—the man, the knife, the way everything had frozen for a moment on that street.
At first, it felt like a normal day. Vendors shouted their usual greetings, motorbikes rattled past, children ran with bags of charcoal balanced on their heads. And yet… small things felt off.
A stray dog that usually barked at everyone walked past me, tail high, calm, as if it recognized something I didn't. The leaves of a nearby mango tree twitched though the air was still. I noticed these things, shrugged, and continued walking toward school. They were just… there. Nothing more.
At Government Day Secondary School, I kept to my usual routine. Classes, teachers' monotone voices, the scraping of chairs, the smell of chalk dust—it all felt the same. Musa waved at me from our usual spot under the mango tree during break, and I returned the gesture.
"Did you hear about the guy yesterday?" he asked, sitting down. His eyes darted around like he half expected someone to overhear.
"Yeah," I said. "Saw it."
He stared at me for a second. "You didn't… freak out?"
I shook my head. "Not really. Crazy, sure, but it's not like I could've done anything."
He frowned but let it drop. We talked about football, school assignments, and exams, letting the topic shift away from the street drama.
During algebra, I noticed the edge of a page flutter without a breeze. I glanced at it and then back at the board. Nothing. A tiny flicker, gone in a heartbeat. Later, in the courtyard, a paper bag floated past me, twisting slightly in the air before landing gently at someone's feet. Nobody reacted. I raised an eyebrow and kept walking, shrugging it off. Life didn't pause for small oddities.
After school, I lingered on the way home, taking a longer route through the narrow alleys. Something had changed in the air. Shadows moved differently, like they were aware of me. I passed the side street where the murder had happened yesterday. Police tape had been removed, but the faint odor of iron lingered. A breeze passed through, carrying whispers of motion too subtle to name. I slowed my pace, scanning the walls, the ground, the corners—but everything looked normal. Still, the feeling didn't leave.
That evening, I sat by the window after dinner, watching the streets. Neon signs flickered, and the reflection of the water puddles shimmered oddly, almost as if they carried a pulse beneath the surface. My sister played music in the other room, the melody faint but cheerful. Mom called me for chores, and I obeyed, moving about mechanically while my eyes kept darting to the window.
A motorbike rattled past, tires kicking up dust, and I noticed a small figure slipping into the shadows near the street corner. Just a glimpse—a man, hooded, moving quickly. I blinked, and he was gone, for some reason it made me uncomfortable as if I was being watched by that shadow..
The city resumed its hum, indifferent. But I stayed by the window a little longer, Waiting for something I couldn't name, feeling the edges of the ordinary pull against something vast just beyond it.
...
It was Saturday.
No alarm. No school uniform. No rush.
I woke up later than usual, sunlight already pressing through the curtains. For a few seconds, I stayed on my back and stared at the ceiling. The fan above me turned slowly, making that soft ticking sound it always made when it reached one side.
I didn't plan to go there.
But the thought had been sitting in my head since yesterday.
The street.
The man.
The knife.
I turned to my side and checked my phone. 9:17 a.m.
From the kitchen, I could hear plates clinking. My sister was talking. Mom answered her with that calm voice she used on weekends. Everything felt normal. Too normal.
I got up and washed my face. The water was cold. I brushed my teeth and stared at my reflection longer than usual. I looked the same. Nothing strange. Just me.
"Chiroma," Mom called. "Are you not eating?"
"I'm coming."
Breakfast was bread and fried egg. I sat quietly and ate. My sister was laughing over something she was watching. Mom turning to face me asked if I had read my physics notes for WAEC.
"I will,mum" I said, though truthfully I've been neglecting it recently
She nodded. "Don't wait till exam month. You know you're a senior and you need to lay a good example to your juniors" looking sideways to my sister.
" Okay mum" I replied.
I finished eating and drank water. I didn't tell them where I was going. I just said, "I'm stepping out."
"Okay Roma, Don't stay too long though," Mom said.
"I won't." I waved while running out
Outside, Birnin Kebbi felt slower than weekdays. Fewer vehicles. The sun was already hot, but the air was calm. A group of boys were playing football down the street using slippers as goalposts. Someone was roasting corn nearby.
I walked past them without greeting anyone.
The closer I got to that side street, the quieter I felt inside. Not scared. Just… focused.
When I turned into the street, I slowed down.
Everything looked normal.
The bloodstain was gone. Someone had washed the ground. A woman was sweeping in front of her shop. Two men stood near a parked motorcycle, arguing about something small. A child ran past me chasing a plastic bottle.
Life had already covered it up.
I walked to the exact spot where the man had fallen. I remembered where his head was. Where the knife had landed.
I stood there.
Nothing.
I shifted my weight.
Still nothing.
Then I saw it.
At first, I thought it was sunlight reflecting off something.
Thin lines.
Faint.
Floating just above the ground.
I blinked.
They were still there.
They weren't straight lines. More like narrow strips. Transparent but glowing slightly. Different colors. Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Indigo. Violet.
Something like rainbow moving upwards but not exactly a rainbow.
They hovered over the spot where the man had died.
They moved slowly. Not like smoke. Not like light from a torch. They stretched and bent like they were alive, but they didn't touch anything.
I looked around quickly.
Nobody was reacting.
The woman kept sweeping.
The two men kept arguing.
The child ran past the strips of light and didn't even slow down.
The colors passed through his legs.
I swallowed then stepped to the side.
The strips moved slightly. They didn't follow me. They stayed around that area. Twisting. Folding. Stretching upward, then thinning out.
I looked up.
Nothing in the sky.
Just the sun.
I rubbed my eyes hard and opened them again.
They were still there.
More of them now. I hadn't noticed before, but they weren't just on the ground. Some rose upward like thin threads climbing into the air. Others sank down into the cement as if the road was water.
My chest tightened.
I looked at the men again.
"Can you see that?" I almost asked.
But I didn't.
Instead, I moved closer to one of the strips. Slowly. Careful.
It shimmered faintly. Not bright. Just enough to be real.
I reached out my hand.
Before my fingers touched it, the strip reacted.
It pulled back slightly.
Not fast.
Just enough.
Like it noticed me.
My hand froze mid-air.
A motorcycle passed behind me. The engine noise made me flinch. When I looked back at the strip, it had shifted again. Thinner now. Sharper.
I stepped back.
Okay.
Okay.
I turned slowly in a circle.
Were they anywhere else?
No.
Only here.
Only at this spot.
I focused on the people walking by. A woman carrying tomatoes. A boy holding his father's hand. An old man with a walking stick.
No one paused, No one stared, No one squinted.
Their eyes passed through the colored strips like they didn't exist.
My heart began to beat harder.
I moved to the edge of the street and leaned against a wall. I kept watching.
A red strip drifted upward, then split into two thinner lines. A blue one twisted around it for a second, then pulled away.
It wasn't random.
It looked like movement with purpose.
I checked the ground again.
Nothing physical.
No glass. No wires. No trick of light.
Just those things.
And me.
A thought formed slowly in my head.
What if…
I scanned every face again.
No reaction.
No hesitation.
No sign that anyone else could see what I was seeing.
The realization hit quietly.
I was alone in this.
The moment that thought settled fully, something changed.
The air felt heavier.
The strips of light flickered.
Not violently. Just once.
Then—
A sound, sharp and high.
Inside my head.
I grabbed my temple immediately.
It wasn't loud at first. More like a thin ringing. Like when you stand too close to a speaker and step away.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
It will pass.
It didn't.
The ringing grew deeper. Not louder. Deeper.
Like it was sinking into my skull.
I opened my eyes.
The strips of light were reacting now.
They were moving faster. Twisting tightly around each other. Pulling upward and downward at the same time.
The ringing became layered.
It wasn't just one tone anymore.
It was many.
Stacked.
And inside the ringing… something else.
Whispers.
Not clear words, Nor language I knew.
Just broken sounds like fragments.
They didn't come from one direction.
They came from everywhere.
Above me.
Below me.
Behind me.
Inside my chest.
Inside my ears.
Inside my head.
I staggered forward.
The ground began feeling unstable.
I tried to breathe slowly.
The whispers grew stronger.
It was not shouting.
But constant.
Falling into me.
Like rain.
No—
Like something pouring directly into my brain.
I pressed both hands against my ears.
It didn't help.
The sound wasn't outside.
It was inside.
The strips of light stretched higher now, some reaching above the rooftops. Others shot downward into the cement, pulsing faintly.
The whispers overlapped each other.
Fast.
Slow.
Deep.
Thin.
Some almost forming words.
Almost.
I tried to focus on one.
I couldn't.
They slid away every time I tried to catch them.
My vision blurred.
The colors of the strips intensified slightly, brightening each layer of color to its highest frequency.
The ringing spiked.
Pain shot through my head like something splitting it open from the inside.
I dropped to my knees.
My bag slipped from my shoulder.
The ground felt hot against my palms.
The whispers became too much.
I screamed.
It tore out of me without permission.
For two seconds—
Only two—
I felt like I was trapped inside that sound forever.
It stretched.
Time didn't move normally.
It felt long.
Endless.
Like I had been there for years, kneeling in that street while voices poured into me without stopping.
My scream didn't feel like it ended.
It felt suspended.
Everything slowed.
The woman sweeping froze mid-motion.
The motorcycle argument paused in silence.
The strips of light flared.
Then—
Everything snapped back.
The two seconds ended.
Sound returned normally.
Traffic noise.
Footsteps.
Distant voices.
I was still on my knees.
Breathing hard.
Sweat dripping down my face.
The whispers were gone.
The ringing faded slowly, like something retreating deep into a tunnel.
The strips of light were still there.
But calmer now.
Thinner.
Less intense.
I looked around.
A few people were staring at me.
"Are you okay?" someone asked.
I couldn't answer.
My mouth felt dry.
'Did they hear me scream?
They must have.' I thought
But no one looked confused.
No one looked like they saw what I saw.
I forced myself to stand.
My legs were weak.
The strips shifted slightly toward me.
Not aggressively.
Just aware.
Like they were waiting.
'Are they waiting for something?' another thought flashed at my mind...
I didn't know.
My head began throbbing even though there was no sharp pain now I still kept feeling the pressure. I stepped backward.
The strips stretched subtly in my direction.
I stepped back again.
They thinned.
I turned away from them completely.
The pressure in my head eased.
Slowly.
I looked over my shoulder.
They were still gathered at the murder spot.
Moving gently.
Quiet.
Watching?.
No.
Not watching.
Existing.
But somehow connected to me now.
I picked up my bag with shaking hands.
The street looked normal again. Perhaps too normal.
I took one step forward to leave.
The moment I did—
A violent pulse hit my head.
No ringing, no whispering, just a single deep impact.
Like something knocking from inside my skull.
My vision darkened at the edges.
The ground tilted.
The strips of light flared brightly all at once.
All colors merging into something blinding.
The air felt thick.
Heavy.
My knees buckled.
I tried to grab the wall but I missed.
The last thing I saw was—
The colored strips shooting upward and downward at the same time—
And the sky above Birnin Kebbi splitting into thin lines of the same colors—
Then everything went black.