shadow Of Otorho

Episode 1 The village of Otorho was known for its peace. Farmers went to their farms, women sold food in the market, and children played by the river. Life moved in a slow, simple rhythm. But everything changed the day Onome arrived. Nobody knew where she came from. She just walked into the market one hot afternoon, carrying a small basket of beads. She was tall, her skin smooth, and her smile soft like morning sun. But it was not her smile that made people freeze. It was her big bum. As she walked, men dropped what they were doing. A farmer carrying cassava left it on the road and followed her. A trader abandoned his stall and walked after her. Even married men forgot their wives. Their eyes were stuck on her waist, her steps, her curves. The women hissed in anger. They looked at their husbands and felt shame. Children whispered to each other, asking if she was a queen. Nobody could understand how one stranger could steal all the attention in a single afternoon. Onome spread her clothes in the market and placed her beads on it. They shone in the sun, red and blue, like drops of water. Her voice was gentle as she called, “Beads for wrist… beads for waist. Buy one, wear beauty.” Men rushed to her. Some bought beads they did not need. Some only stood there, smiling like fools, pretending they wanted to buy. One man sold his goat just to get enough money for her beads. Another borrowed coins from his friend just so he could hear her voice. The market that used to be filled with loud voices became quiet. Traders stopped shouting prices. Women stopped calling customers. Everyone’s eyes were on her. Old Mama Iyabo, the village herbalist, sat by the corner of the market, shaking her head. She spat on the ground and muttered to herself, “This beauty is not ordinary. That bum is a curse. If these foolish men don’t take care, it will swallow them alive.” But nobody listened. The men only laughed at her, saying the old woman was jealous. That evening, as the sun went down, Onome packed her beads and walked away slowly. The men followed her with their eyes until she disappeared into the forest path. Some even quarreled among themselves, each one claiming that she looked at him more than the others. That night, the village was restless. Husbands could not sleep beside their wives. Young men boasted that they would win her. And women sat in silence, worried that this stranger had come to scatter their homes. Nobody knew who Onome really was. Nobody cared to ask where she came from. All they saw was beauty. All they wanted was her body. But far away, under the moonlight, Onome walked alone to the river. And there… her shadow did not move like a normal shadow. It stretched, twisted, and danced on its own, as if it had a secret. And that was the beginning of the story that would later shake the whole village. The days that followed Onome’s arrival were no longer normal in Otorho village. From morning till night, the market was crowded with men who had no business there. Farmers abandoned their farms. Hunters left their traps empty. Young men who once fetched water or helped their parents now spent all day chasing one thing — the woman with the big bum. Even the chiefs began to compete. They sent gifts of palm oil, goats, and even cowries to her small hut at the edge of the village. Husbands forgot their wives. Fathers forgot their children. The whole village was drowning in madness. But not everybody was blind. Old Mama Iyabo, the herbalist, had lived long enough to know when beauty carried danger. She sat at the entrance of her hut, watching men pass by, one after another, all going to Onome like flies chasing palm wine. She shook her head slowly and said: “Fools. You think this beauty is a blessing? No. That bum you are fighting for will bury you. Mark my words.” But nobody listened. Instead, they mocked her. Some men even called her a bitter old woman who was jealous because she was wrinkled and forgotten. Others laughed loudly and said, “Mama Iyabo has never seen real beauty before.” One night, a young man named Ovie decided to test something. He had been watching Onome closely. He noticed that every evening she went to the river alone. Nobody followed her because they thought she wanted privacy. But Ovie’s curiosity was stronger than his fear. So, when the moon was high and the crickets sang, Ovie hid behind a tree near the riverbank. He saw Onome kneel by the water. At first, she was quiet, washing her face gently. But then… something strange began to happen. Her shadow on the water started to stretch. It grew longer and longer, twisting like a snake. Suddenly, horns rose from her shadow’s head. Her body in the water reflection didn’t look like a woman anymore. Ovie’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest. He covered his mouth so he would not scream. Onome’s lips were moving, whispering words in a language he had never heard before. The river rippled as if it was answering her. Terrified, Ovie ran back to the village. He burst into the beer hut where some men were drinking and shouted, “She’s not human! I saw her! She is a beast! Run before it is too late!” The men laughed until tears rolled down their cheeks. They clapped their hands and mocked him. “Ovie, you are jealous because she does not look at you.” “You drank too much palm wine. Go and sleep.” “So you want us to believe that fine woman is a monster? Abeg, leave story.” They dragged him outside and beat him for spreading lies. His mouth bled, but he kept shouting: “She is not human! She is not human!” The next morning, Onome came to the market again, smiling softly, carrying her beads as if nothing had happened. The men rushed to her like bees to honey. The same Ovie who had shouted all night sat at the corner of the market with swollen eyes. Nobody believed him. Nobody wanted to believe him. And when Onome lifted her face to smile, her lips curved a little too wide… wider than any normal human smile. Episode 2: The festival The time came for the Annual Yam Festival in Otorho village. It was a season of joy — a time when drums beat all night, fires burned bright, and every family came together to celebrate a good harvest. But that year, the festival was no longer about yam. It was about Onome. From morning, men boasted openly in the village square. • Okoro, the hunter, carried the skin of a lion on his shoulders. He shouted, “I will lay this before Onome’s feet. No man, here is braver than me!” • Efe, the wrestler, oiled his muscles and said, “When she sees my strength, she will know I am the only one who deserves her.” • Even Chief Ogaga, an old man with three wives, whispered that he would secretly take Onome as his fourth. The whole festival ground was filled with tension. Women sat in silence, shaking their heads. They could see what the men could not — that this woman was breaking homes and destroying the peace of Otorho. The drummers beat their drums. The dancers began their steps. But the men were not watching the dance. They were watching Onome. She entered the festival ground slowly, wearing a wrapper of red and black. Cowries jingled at her waist, making her steps even more dangerous. Her smile was soft, her eyes shining in the firelight. And of course… her big bum swayed with every movement, pulling men like a magnet. One man rushed forward with a calabash of palm wine. Another pushed him aside to give her roasted meat. A third man threw himself on the ground, begging her to step on him so he could be blessed. Very quickly, the competition turned into a fight. Men exchanged blows. Baskets of yam scattered. Blood spilt on the sand. Some even pulled out knives. The festival that was meant to bring unity now looked like a battlefield. Onome only stood there, smiling. Her eyes glowed strangely as she watched them. It was as if their foolishness gave her joy. Old Mama Iyabo, who had been silent, could no longer hold her tongue. She lifted her staff and shouted: “Blind men! You are fighting for your own graves! That woman is not human! She will destroy you all before the moon fades!” But her words only brought more laughter. The men mocked her again. One shouted, “Go home, old woman, and drink herbs. Leave beauty for those who can enjoy it!” The drums grew louder. The fire burned brighter. And while men fought, Onome’s body began to tremble slightly. Her eyes flickered red for just a moment… and then returned to normal. Nobody saw it. Nobody — except Mama Iyabo. She stepped back, clutching her staff tightly, and whispered to herself: “It is near… very near.” The festival fire burned high. The drums beat louder and louder. Men were still fighting, their bodies covered with dust and sweat, all because of Onome. She stood in the centre of the ground, smiling softly as if she was enjoying the madness. But deep inside her, something was already stirring. Her body shook once. Then again. Her lips trembled. She held her waist as if she were in pain. Some men thought she was only dancing, so they cheered louder. But then… her eyes changed. In the firelight, they glowed bright red, burning like hot coal. Her smile stretched too wide, showing teeth longer than a human’s. The drums suddenly went silent. Even the drunk men froze. Onome let out a loud cry — not the cry of a woman, but the roar of something from another world. Her skin peeled slowly, as if it was only a cover. Underneath, black scales appeared, shining in the moonlight. Her famous big bum shook violently, then split apart like a cracked calabash. From it, two long, sharp tails burst out, slashing the air. The men screamed. Her arms grew longer. Her fingers twisted into claws. Her mouth stretched wide until it reached her ears, filled with rows of sharp teeth. She was no longer a woman. She was a beast. The men who had fought so hard to win her love were the first to die. She moved faster than their eyes could follow. With one strike of her tail, she threw Efe the wrestler into the fire. With her claws, she tore Okoro the hunter into pieces. The chiefs tried to run, but she pounced on them, devouring their flesh in seconds. Blood flowed on the sand. The yam festival ground turned into a graveyard. The women screamed and ran with their children. The drummers abandoned their drums and disappeared into the night. Only Mama Iyabo stood her ground, and herself staff raised high. She shouted: “Did I not warn you? Did I not say she was not human? This is the price of foolish desire!” Onome — or what she had become — lifted her head to the moon. She howled loudly, the sound shaking every hut in the village. Her body twisted again, and in one leap, she disappeared into the forest, leaving behind nothing but bones, blood, and silence. That night, Otorho lost its strongest men. The festival of yam became the festival of death. And for the first time, everyone realized the truth: the beauty they worshipped was never human.