EPISODE 3 - The Evil Village Where No One Dared to Go Out After 6pm”

Episode 3 The rules of Onigba

Written by Multiplemama

I couldn’t move.

The footprints weren’t just muddy—they were wet, like someone had just stepped out of a swamp.

I followed them with trembling eyes.

They led from the window… across the room… and stopped right in front of my bed.

But nothing was there.

Only silence.

Until a voice, faint as wind and sharp as ice, whispered near my ear:

“You saw me. You heard me. You’re mine now.”

I screamed and ran out of the house into the morning light—barefoot, covered in sweat, crying like a mad woman.

The villagers stared as if I was possessed.

Only one person moved toward me.

The old woman from earlier—Mama Chinyere. Her eyes held a kind of knowing sadness. She didn’t ask me anything. She just took my hand and said:

“You need to know the rules.”

She led me to a narrow hut behind the abandoned shrine at the village edge. Inside, everything was covered in thick white chalk markings—symbols that looked older than time.

There, she made me sit. And she told me the truth.

“Onigba was once free. Happy. But we sinned. We killed a woman who begged for mercy.”

Her name was Obande. She was accused of witchcraft after crops failed and children got sick. But she wasn’t guilty.

She was pregnant when they burned her alive.

Her screams cursed the land.

Her dying words were:

“Since your hearts are dead, I’ll give you back mine—every night, until you choke on it.”

From that day, no one could leave the village. Anyone who entered unknowingly, like me, was trapped.

Forever.

“There are rules, child. You must follow them or die.”

Mama Chinyere etched the rules into the dirt before me:

THE THREE RULES OF ONIGBA

1. Never go outside after 6PM.

The curse walks freely in the dark. Anyone outside will not return the same.

2. Never respond to your name after dark.

She mimics voices. If you answer, your soul unravels.

3. Never speak of escape.

The land hears. The trees report. The curse punishes traitors.

“Your mistake was opening the curtain. That was her invitation. Now she sees you. Wants you.”

I asked, sobbing, “Is there any way to break the curse?”

Mama Chinyere looked at me, tears in her tired eyes.

“Only blood breaks blood. Someone must take her place. But who will?”

Before I could ask what that meant, a gust of wind slammed the shrine door shut. The candle in the room blew out.

In the shadows, I heard it again—a baby’s soft whimper… and the sound of nails scratching the wall.

“Mama… I’m still waiting…”

I turned around. The mirrors in the shrine weren’t reflecting me anymore.

They were showing her.

The bride.

Burnt. Veiled. Carrying a baby.

And smiling.

TO BE CONTINUED…