EPISODE 6: THE MAN WEARING MY FATHER'S FACE
1074 Words
Amara's scream echoed through the underground chamber.
She stumbled backward, her flashlight rolling across the damp stone floor. Its beam spun wildly before stopping on the chained man's face.
He still looked exactly like her father.
The same scar above his left eyebrow.
The same grey in his beard.
The same tired eyes...
Except they weren't tired anymore.
They were amused.
The corners of his lips curled into a smile that no longer belonged to Chike Okeke.
"Run!" Obinna shouted.
The creature's head snapped toward him with a sickening c***k.
Its neck twisted farther than any human's could.
"You shouldn't have come back, teacher," it hissed.
Obinna froze.
"You... know me?"
The thing laughed.
"I know everyone."
The dozens of pale hands emerging from the darkness began crawling across the walls like spiders, their fingers scraping against the stone.
Amara grabbed her flashlight and pulled Obinna toward the tunnel.
"Move!"
The creature didn't chase them.
It simply watched.
As they reached the stone steps, its voice echoed behind them.
"You left something here, Amara."
She didn't stop.
"You left your memories."
They burst out of the underground chamber just as the hidden entrance beneath the iroko tree began to close.
The ground shook violently.
Massive roots shifted like living snakes, sealing the staircase beneath layers of red earth until no trace remained.
Obinna bent over, struggling to catch his breath.
"We have to leave the grove."
Amara stood motionless, staring at the place where the entrance had disappeared.
"That wasn't my father."
"No."
"But it knew his name."
"It knows everyone's name."
"Then where is he?"
Obinna didn't answer.
Instead, he looked at the bleeding cut on the iroko tree.
It had stopped.
The trunk was dry again, as though nothing had happened.
They hurried back toward the village.
Halfway there, Amara noticed something strange.
The path they had used to enter the grove was gone.
In its place stood rows of ancient stone statues.
There hadn't been any statues before.
Each one was carved in the shape of a kneeling person.
Their faces were astonishingly lifelike.
One statue held a farming hoe.
Another clutched a baby.
A third appeared to be praying.
Amara walked closer.
The detail was incredible.
Every wrinkle.
Every strand of hair.
Every fingernail.
She stopped in front of the fourth statue.
A chill ran through her body.
The woman looked familiar.
Too familiar.
Obinna's face turned pale.
"No..."
"What?"
He pointed with trembling fingers.
"That's my mother."
Amara looked again.
She had seen Obinna's mother earlier that week.
She sold vegetables in the marketplace.
Healthy.
Alive.
"That's impossible."
A cracking sound interrupted them.
Tiny fractures spread across the statue's face.
Then...
It blinked.
Both of them stumbled backward.
The statue opened its mouth.
In a voice barely louder than a whisper, it said,
"Don't let her find the seventh..."
Before it could finish, the entire statue collapsed into a pile of red dust.
The wind scattered it across the forest floor.
Nothing remained.
When they finally reached Umuoji, the village was in chaos.
People ran through the streets carrying bags and children.
Women cried openly.
Goats wandered unattended.
"What happened?" Amara asked.
A young boy ran past them.
"They took Mama Ezinne!"
Another shouted,
"She disappeared in her sleep!"
The village square was crowded.
Chief Nworie stood at its center, his face heavy with grief.
"Mama Ezinne is gone," he announced.
"Only this was found."
He held up a folded piece of cloth.
Amara's heart skipped.
It was the same faded blue fabric she'd found hanging in the forest.
Pieces of it.
Covered in red clay.
Obinna whispered,
"That's the third person this week."
"The third?"
He nodded.
"And every time someone disappears..."
He looked directly at Amara.
"...another name appears."
"What names?"
Without a word, the chief motioned for her to follow.
He led her behind the shrine at the edge of the square.
There, carved into a massive slab of black stone, were dozens of names.
Some were faded with age.
Others looked fresh.
At the very bottom...
A name was slowly carving itself into the stone.
No knife.
No hand.
The letters simply appeared, one stroke at a time.
Everyone watched in horrified silence.
M... A... M... A... E... Z... I... N... N... E...
The carving stopped.
The chief closed his eyes.
"The earth has accepted another."
Amara reached out to touch the stone.
It was warm.
Almost like skin.
Then she noticed another name.
Hidden beneath a layer of moss.
One she had somehow missed before.
CHIKE OKEKE
Her father's name.
Already carved.
Already accepted.
"No..." she whispered.
"No, he can't be dead."
Suddenly, a firm hand rested on her shoulder.
She spun around.
Standing behind her was an elderly woman dressed entirely in white.
No one else seemed to notice her.
Her face was lined with age, but her eyes were sharp and clear.
"You shouldn't believe everything the stone tells you," the old woman said calmly.
"Who are you?"
"My name no longer matters."
She leaned closer.
"The man you saw beneath the iroko tree wasn't pretending to be your father."
Amara felt her stomach tighten.
"What do you mean?"
The old woman looked toward the Sacred Grove.
"It was your father..."
She paused.
"...or at least what is left of him."
Before Amara could ask another question, the village bell rang loudly.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
A sound no one in Umuoji wanted to hear.
The chief's voice trembled.
"Another body has been found."
The villagers rushed toward the old riverbank.
Amara followed.
When she reached the crowd, her heart nearly stopped.
The body lying on the red earth wasn't a stranger.
It was the elderly woman in white.
The same woman who had been speaking to her only moments earlier.
She lay cold and lifeless, her eyes staring blankly at the sky.
Someone in the crowd whispered,
"But... she's been dead for twenty years."
Amara slowly looked back over her shoulder.
The path behind her was empty.
There had never been anyone there.
Except...
At the edge of the forest...
The veiled woman stood watching.
This time, she wasn't alone.
Beside her stood six shadowy figures.
There should have been six.
But as Amara counted again...
A seventh figure stepped out from behind the trees.
It was her father.
He slowly raised one finger to his lips.
Be silent.
Then all eight figures disappeared into the darkness.
End of Episode 6
- Writer
