YOU WONT BELEIVE WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM AFTER HE URINIIN A GRAVE YARD

         Episode 2✅

The palm oil in the ritual bowl began to bubble and the rooster squawked loudly before falling silent.

Barara Aanu’s voice boomed over the wind, “Spirit, hear us. The boy has repented. Accept this offering and rest in peace.”

The ground beneath the grave trembled slightly, and the whisper returned—louder this time.

“Tunde… I hear you. But your apology is not enough.”

Tunde gasped. “What more do you want from me?”

The whisper grew colder. “You will know in time.”

The wind stopped abruptly and everything fell silent. Barara Aanu looked concerned but didn’t say anything.

As they left the cemetery, Tunde thought it was over.

That night, Tunde dreamt he was standing in a dark, endless field. The sky above was gray and the air was heavy with an eerie silence. Suddenly, the old man with the hollow eyes appeared again, his bony hand outstretched.

“Tunde,” the spirit said, “your apology is heard. But to earn my forgiveness, you must right a wrong done to me in life. Only then will I find peace, and you will be free.”

Tunde, trembling, asked, “What wrong? What do you want me to do?”

The spirit’s face contorted in pain as it spoke. “When I was alive, I was betrayed by someone I trusted, and I died with a burden on my soul. You must find the truth of my story and bring justice to my name. Only then will my torment end.”

Before Tunde could ask more questions, he woke up gasping for air. His room was freezing, though it was the middle of the dry season. The whispers were gone, but his heart was pounding.

The next morning, Tunde went back to Barara Aanu and told him about the dream. The elder nodded knowingly.

“The spirit’s pain binds it to this world. You must uncover its story and do what it asks. But be careful, Tunde. Spirits can be tricky. You must ensure you truly bring justice, not vengeance.”

“How will I even find out what happened?” Tunde asked, his voice shaky. “I don’t even know whose grave it is.”

Barara Aanu handed Tunde a small weathered notebook. “This belonged to the village’s first gravedigger. It has records of everyone buried in the cemetery. Find the name on the grave and start your search there.”

Reluctantly, Tunde flipped through the brittle pages until he found a name that matched the grave he had disrespected: Adakan Laayi.

Tunde didn’t recognize the name, but Barara Aanu did.

“Adakan Laayi was a man who lived in this village many years ago,” the elder explained. “He was kind, but some say he had enemies—people who were jealous of his wealth and influence. One day, he disappeared, and weeks later, his body was found in the forest. No one knows who killed him, but there were whispers of foul play.”

Tunde felt a chill run down his spine. “So I have to find out who killed him? How am I supposed to do that?”

“The spirit believes you can,” Barara Aanu said firmly. “Start by talking to the oldest villagers. They may remember something that can help you.”

With a heavy heart, Tunde began his quest. He visited the homes of the village elders, asking them what they knew about Adakan. Most of them were hesitant to talk, warning him not to stir up old wounds. But one old woman, Mamar Shade, finally agreed to tell him what she knew.

“Adakan was a good man,” she said, her voice trembling with age, “but he was too trusting. There was a man—his closest friend—who envied him. Some say that friend had a hand in his death, but no one could prove it.”

“Who was the friend?” Tunde asked, leaning in closer.

Mamar Shade’s eyes darted around nervously, as if afraid someone might overhear. She whispered a name: “Olumide Beare.”

Tunde’s heart sank. Olumide Beare was one of the most respected elders in the village. If he was involved, this task was going to be much harder than Tunde had imagined.

That night, as Tunde prepared to sleep, he felt a presence in his room again. This time, it wasn’t cold or frightening—it was as though someone was silently urging him forward, guiding him to uncover the truth.

But the closer Tunde got to the truth, the more restless he became. He lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing. He couldn’t shake the name Olumide Beare from his thoughts. How could one of the most respected elders in the village be involved in something so sinister?

The weight of the task ahead made him feel small, but he knew he couldn’t stop now.

The next morning, he decided to approach Olumide cautiously. He went to the elder’s compound, pretending to seek advice on a personal matter.

Olumide, a tall man with a booming voice and sharp eyes, welcomed Tunde with a smile.

“Ah, young Tunde! What brings you to my humble home?” Olumide asked, gesturing for Tunde to sit on a wooden stool.

Tunde cleared his throat. “Baba, I’ve been hearing stories about the past—about people who lived in the village long ago. One name keeps coming up… Adakan Laayi. Do you remember him?”

At the mention of the name, Olumide’s expression changed ever so slightly. It was quick—just a flicker of discomfort—but Tunde noticed it.

“Adakan Laayi?” Olumide said, leaning back. “Yes… I remember him. He was a good man. Kind and generous. Why do you ask about him?”

Tunde hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I’m curious about the history of our village. They say his death was mysterious 

  TBC…

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