EPISODE 6: The Forbidden Names
The sound was sharp—like bones breaking beneath skin. The air turned sour, filled with the scent of burnt flesh and something rotting.
Then I saw it—a pale, stitched hand slowly reaching from inside the cracked mirror near the wardrobe.
“Mary… my mirror now… your soul next…”
I bolted. I ran out of the house, barefoot, sobbing, until I collapsed in front of Mama Chinyere’s hut.
She didn’t look surprised. Only tired. Tired of death.
She led me in, gave me water, then went to a shelf and brought out an ancient-looking book, wrapped in old red cloth.
“You need to see this,” she whispered.
It was heavy. Bound in leather that looked like skin.
On the cover:
“The Forbidden Names of Onigba.
I opened the book.
Each page had names—hundreds of them. All handwritten in black ink.
Some had red Xs beside them.
Some had dates—most ending in midnight hours.
Many names had been burned off, the paper scorched.
Then I saw something that froze my bones.
A section titled “New Bloods.”
My name was there.
Not handwritten.
It was engraved into the page.
MARY OLUCHUKWU — Marked: 6th of July, Death Time: Awaiting Bride's Call.
“She already chose you,” Mama Chinyere said, voice trembling. “You didn’t enter this village by mistake. The curse pulls those who are owed.”
“Owed? By who?” I asked.
She hesitated… then handed me a folded letter.
It had my mother’s handwriting.
Inside, the truth shattered me.
“My dear daughter,
If you're reading this, it means you’ve reached Onigba. I never wanted this for you. Years ago, your father fell sick—death was certain. I was desperate. I made a pact with the bride’s spirit to save him.
The price… was you.
I begged her to wait until you were older, to give you time to live. She agreed. And now… she’s come to collect.”
I fell to the floor. Screaming. Vomiting.
My own mother had sold me to save my father.
I was the price.
A living sacrifice.
Mama Chinyere cried silently.
“Many of us are prices for deals our ancestors made. The curse keeps growing… feeding. And no one escapes unless…”
“Unless what?” I asked, breathless.
She leaned in and whispered:
“Unless you offer a greater sacrifice… someone pure… someone innocent. The curse only trades.”
The ground suddenly shook. A distant cry rang through the village. The bell on the clocktower began ringing by itself—over and over again.
DONG…
DONG…
DONG…
“She’s calling you tonight,” Mama Chinyere said. “You saw your name. You’ve been chosen.”
“Then how do I live?” I asked.
She looked me in the eyes, and her next words sent a chill through my soul:
“You must give the curse a heart… before it takes yours.”
That night, the mirrors in my house shattered fully.
And standing in the center of my living room was Uzoma, no longer a child… but a demon with his stitched eyes now wide open.
He opened his mouth, and the bride’s voice spoke through him:
“Choose, Mary. A life… or yours. The mirror watches.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
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