The night market

Fractures-Part 2

Chike hit the ground hard, but the surface wasn't dirt. It was smooth and familiar. He pushed himself up and looked around, trying to remember where he was as the spinning in his head settled.

Then he got it — he was in his mother's old kitchen.

Except....everything felt wrong.

The colours were too bright, the shadows too sharp, and even the corners were bending as though a child had drawn them wrong.

The loud tick-tock of the clock drew him closer to the wall where it was hung, and he realised it was moving backwards.

No, this was all wrong, he thought.

Then he heard someone crying behind him, and he turned around sharply towards the sound.

And

there

she

was

Ifeoma!

She was standing near the sink, her hair shorter than it was before she disappeared. Her favourite faded yellow blouse hung on her shoulders, and her eyes were red and furious.

Chike's heart hammered. Is she real?

Then she shouted, her voice taking on a strange screeching tone:

"You promised, Chike! You promised to stop!"

Chike stumbled back, confusion written all over his face. He didn't remember this—not like this. Not the shouting, not her tears.

But Ifeoma wasn't looking at him; she was looking through him.

And then, it occurred to him. Maybe this scene wasn't for him; maybe it was about him.

Ifeoma slammed one hand on the counter. "You said you wouldn't chase those stories anymore! You said you were done risking everything!"

Risking everything? He opened his mouth to ask, but the kitchen lights exploded with a sharp pop, raining sparks everywhere.

Then the Messenger's distorted voice whispered behind him:

"Memory doesn't lie, journalist."

"But you did."

Chike spun around, his heart racing like a go-kart, but the Messenger wasn't there—just shadows stretching across the floor, reaching towards his feet.

Ifeoma's voice continued, but with a softer tone:

"I can't keep saving you," she said quietly, wiping her eyes.

"One day... I won't be able to."

He stepped towards her.

"Saving me? From what? Ifeoma, what did you do?"

But as he reached her, his hand passed through her like mist.

The whole kitchen flickered.

And with a sharp, splintering c***k, the memory shattered, breaking into shards of sound and colour that dissolved into darkness.

Chike gasped, his arms flailing as he fell backwards — landing on another mirror, which immediately cracked beneath him.

There was barely enough time for him to breathe before he fell into another fractured memory...