EPISODE 2 - The Evil Village Where No One Dared to Go Out After 6PM”

EPISODE 2 - A CRY IN THE SILENCE

The Evil Village Where No One Dared to Go Out After 6PM”

I didn’t sleep that night.

I sat in the corner of my room with the lights on, holding a rusted kitchen knife I found in a drawer. Every tick of the old clock sounded like a scream. The air was too still, like the house itself was holding its breath with me.

Then, at exactly 2:43 AM, I heard it.

A baby crying.

Faint… then louder… then too close.

I froze. The sound was just outside my window, but how? There were no children in Onigba—at least not any I had seen. I crept toward the window and slowly pulled the curtain back.

No one.

Only the heavy darkness and a faint outline of the same woman in the blood-stained wedding gown, standing beneath the mango tree.

This time, she was holding something. A baby.

Her veil was lifted.

I wish I could tell you what I saw…

But my mind refuses to remember.

My brain protects itself the way our eyes blink when dust flies in.

Because what stood there wasn’t human.

And then—knock knock knock.

My front door.

Three knocks.

Soft. Like a child.

Then silence.

Then a whisper:

“Maaaarrryyyyyy… open the dooooor…

I’m cold… I’m lost… you promised to take care of me…”

I never made such a promise.

I didn’t open the door.

But the doorknob turned by itself.

I ran to the back room and locked myself inside. I fell asleep somehow, shivering, my knife clutched in both hands.

The next morning, the sun rose like nothing happened. Birds chirped. People moved around like normal.

I stumbled out, pale, eyes hollow. I approached a man by the stream and asked, "Did you hear a baby crying last night?"

He looked at me, horrified, then walked away quickly without a word.

But as I turned to go back, an old woman sweeping the dusty road whispered behind me:

“You heard the baby. You opened the curtain. She’s seen you now.”

I asked, trembling, “Who is she?”

The woman looked at the sky, then whispered like a curse:

“She’s the cursed bride. The witch they burned while pregnant. Every night she cries for the child they tore from her womb. If you hear the baby and look… she follows you until your soul cracks.”

I wanted to scream. I didn’t believe in ghosts before. But Onigba wasn’t a village—it was a trap made of bones and screams.

And now, I had made the worst mistake of all.

I looked.

That night, I nailed my door shut. Poured salt around my bed. Whispered every Psalm I knew.

But as midnight approached, the crying returned.

This time… it was inside the house.

“Mama… you looked. Now hold me.”

I turned.

And saw tiny muddy footprints on my floor.

TO BE CONTINUED…