Chapter 1: The Weight of Old Tori

Do you know about the Disappeared Couple?

For this part of the world, stories dey flow like river for rainy season. But as you dey listen now, make you know say today na another tori I wan yarn—this one different—e heavy for my chest, pass that old Disappeared Couple tori wey everybody don hear for beer parlour.

You know as e be—old tori fit dey ring for ear, but this one heavy for my chest pass the other. E get one kind weight, because as I dey remember am, e resemble the other one for one sharp corner: that house wey dey stand alone, far from where people dey gist and play draft.

The weight of this case for my hand heavy pass the Disappeared Couple own, mostly because of one big similarity: that house wey dey stand alone for the edge of the village.

That kind house wey if rain dey fall, you go dey hear as water dey beat the zinc, wind dey blow leaf enter compound. For dry season, nobody dey even remember say people dey live there. E just dey like abandoned place for film. Some people dey talk say, if you pass that house for night, cold go catch your spirit.

The house just dey there—quiet, helpless—easy for anybody to hide any kind evil inside.

But this time, e different: for this case, na the person wey do the bad thing disappear—not the victim.

This one no be your regular film trick. Na the wahala person wey suppose dey run from everybody, e just waka enter ground, like tortoise wey dey dodge sun.

The guy just vanish for five whole years. People begin dey whisper, say maybe river spirit swallow am, or e don turn bird fly comot.

Everybody for village begin count—one, two, three…so tey e reach five years, story no change. Even the old mama begin dey tire for hope.

Na after five years, the criminal mama come meet us say, “My pikin dey hide for that palm grove.”