woven in time

Chapter 7: The Bell That Didn’t Ring

Monday came like a whisper soaked in rain.

The sky was grey, and the school bell—usually sharp and loud—never rang that morning.

It just didn’t work.

Students still gathered, confused. Teachers shrugged it off, joking that maybe the bell was finally tired after years of screaming.

But I knew better.

Because when I walked into the school compound, I felt something watching me. Not someone—something. And I wasn’t the only one.

Kehinde showed up late, eyes dark from no sleep, the crescent on his wrist now permanently etched like a burn. When our eyes met across the corridor, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Then… the air snapped.

---

It started during Literature class.

I was taking notes when a strange breeze swept through the window—icy cold, smelling of ash and palm oil. The pages of my notebook flipped on their own. The lights flickered.

And then Taiwo Adegbite, our class prefect, suddenly stood up, eyes glazed, lips moving with no sound.

“Taiwo?” the teacher asked, stepping closer.

Taiwo didn’t respond.

Instead, he turned to the blackboard and began writing with his finger. No chalk—just finger on slate.

But glowing words began to appear.

“THEY WILL RETURN THROUGH HER.”

“THE GATE CRACKS.”

“YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.”

The whole class screamed.

Taiwo collapsed.

---

I ran from the class before anyone could stop me. Kehinde found me near the sickbay.

“That wasn’t normal,” I said, my voice shaking.

He nodded. “They’re getting stronger.”

“Who?”

“The ones behind the door.”

We sat under the old mango tree where students usually carved their initials, watching the clouds gather above the school. The air was thick with electricity—no storm, just tension.

“Something’s coming,” I said.

“It’s already here,” Kehinde replied.

And then he reached into his pocket and pulled out something I didn’t expect.

The pendant the forest guardian wore.

“I saw it in Mama Sinmi’s hut,” he said. “She gave it to me when you were outside.”

It was warm in my hand.

The moment it touched my skin, a memory flashed—

A field of silver trees.

A voice whispering my name.

Kehinde standing across from me, holding a blade of light.

A woman in white… screaming my name.

Ayotunde. Open your eyes.

I gasped.

When I looked at Kehinde, he was pale.

“You saw it too, didn’t you?”

He nodded.

“We’ve been here before,” he whispered.

“Where?”

“Another life.”

---

Later that day, the school called a prayer assembly.

They called it a spiritual attack. Some claimed Taiwo had epilepsy. Others whispered he’d been possessed.

But Kehinde and I knew better.

Because we’d seen what no one else did.

When Taiwo collapsed, the shadow that whispered in the forest passed behind him.

And it smiled.