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★The Silent Pain★

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(Chapter Four – Ezinna’s Warning)

The strange laughter haunted Amara for many nights. She grew thinner, her eyes red from lack of sleep. Mama Nkechi noticed and became worried.

One evening, as the sun was setting and the sky turned red like fire, Mama Nkechi said to her daughter,

“My child, I cannot watch you waste away. I know who we must see. Tomorrow, we are going to Ezinna.”

Amara’s heart skipped. “Ezinna? That old woman in the forest? People say she is a witch.”

Her mother sighed deeply. “Witch or not, she knows things that others fear to speak. When your father disappeared, she warned me. I did not listen. I will not make that mistake again.”

Amara said nothing, but inside, fear and curiosity mixed in her chest.

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The next morning, they went together. The path to Ezinna’s hut was narrow, overgrown with weeds. Birds flew overhead, crying sharply as if warning them to turn back. The trees whispered in the wind, their branches shaking though there was no storm.

Finally, they reached the hut. It was small and crooked, built with old mud and covered in thick leaves. Strange marks were drawn on the walls—symbols that Amara did not understand. At the doorway hung charms made of feathers, bones, and cowries. The place smelled of smoke and bitter herbs.

Mama Nkechi knocked softly on the wooden door.

“Ezinna… it is Nkechi. I have come with my daughter.”

The door creaked open by itself. A voice came from inside, old and rough.

“Enter.”

They stepped in. The inside was dark. Only a small fire burned in the middle of the hut, filling the air with smoke. Pots of herbs, dried leaves, and bottles of red liquid lined the shelves. The floor was covered with mats woven long ago.

On the far side, Ezinna sat. She was bent with age, her back crooked. Her skin was wrinkled like dry leather. Her hair was white and wild, falling down her shoulders. Her eyes—sharp and glowing—watched them closely.

Amara felt her body shiver.

Ezinna spoke slowly, her voice deep. “I have been expecting you.”

Mama Nkechi bent low. “Mother, I brought my daughter. She is being troubled. Shadows follow her, voices call her. Please, help us.”

Ezinna’s eyes fixed on Amara. For a long time, she said nothing. Then she shook her head.

“Child, you carry a heavy mark. The spirits have chosen you. They feed on the silent pain of this village. They drink the tears that people hide in their hearts. They move at night, and they are growing stronger.”

Amara’s voice shook. “Why me? I don’t understand.”

Ezinna leaned forward, her eyes burning brighter. “Because you see what others refuse to see. The rest of the village keeps quiet. They bury their pain. They close their mouths. But you—your heart cries loudly, even in silence. They fear you.”

Amara’s hands trembled. “What do I do? I am just one person.”

Ezinna reached beside her and brought out a small clay pot filled with white chalk. She held it out with her old shaking hands.

“Take this. Every night, mark your doorway with it. When they come, do not scream, do not cry. Sit in silence, but let your silence be strong, not weak. The spirits feed on silence filled with fear. But silence filled with faith will burn them like fire.”

Mama Nkechi touched her chest. “Ezinna, will this save her?”

Ezinna’s voice dropped low. “It will protect her for a time. But the real battle is not only hers. This whole village is drowning in silent pain. Until the people speak out, the spirits will not rest.”

Amara held the pot of chalk tightly, her hands sweating. Fear and courage fought inside her.

Before they left, Ezinna looked at her one more time and whispered, “They will come for you soon. When they do, do not run. Face them.”

Amara and her mother walked back through the forest, their hearts heavy. The shadows seemed to follow them, moving between the trees.

That night, as Amara lay on her mat, she placed the chalk pot beside her. Outside, the wind howled like voices crying.

She whispered to herself, “I am ready.”

But in her heart, she was not sure.

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