Chapter 1: The WhatsApp Warning

At midnight, flat 401 suddenly dropped a message inside our residents' WhatsApp group:

[There’s a monkey with red eyes inside this building. E fit copy the way person dey knock door.]

[Abeg, make una hear word—no open your door for anything. That monkey no be ordinary monkey o. E dey peel person skin commot, even go remove their eyeball.]

Everybody just dey laugh am off, say na pure talk:

[How monkey wan take enter city? Even if monkey dey here, the thing small—if I catch am, I go just knack am one blow.]

The chat even dey pepper with those playful stickers—one woman send laughing emoji, another drop gif of Egungun masquerade dey dance, as if to say the warning na just night talk. Na so the group chat dey bubble, people dey send voice note with heavy Yoruba, some dey reply with pidgin, others dey yab 401 say she don watch too much African Magic.

Me sef just wave am as joke, look the chat small, no reply, just dey ready to go back sleep.

Even at midnight, the wahala for Lagos no dey sleep—okada dey pass for road, generator dey hum for backyard. Before I fit even close WhatsApp, the hum of my rechargeable fan dey soothe me, body just dey relax on top mattress wey sweat small from NEPA wahala. Mosquito coil dey burn near bed, my mind already dey drift.

But next thing, 401 begin dey tag me anyhow:

[501, abeg hide sharp sharp! E don reach your door!]

I just hiss, dey form say nothing fit happen, until—

*Dong dong dong*

Person knock my door.

The knock choke me, scatter sleep for my eye. I tiptoe reach the peephole, peep outside—na so I peep, jam blood-red eyeball—e dey torch me like torchlight for shrine.

Fear nearly make me fall for ground.

Na so body cold, head swell, like say person pour ogogoro for my chest. Sweat prick my armpit, as I wan shout but mouth dry like harmattan. I nearly shout, but tongue dey heavy, so I just dey mutter, “Holy Ghost fire, cover me!” under my breath.

Abi wetin 401 talk na true?

Monkey with red eye really dey this building?

Na so goosebumps full my skin. I remember that time for village when dem say masquerade dey waka at night—this kain fear grip my heart. I dey pray under my breath, just dey whisper, "God abeg o!"

Through the peephole, I see as that blood-red eyeball dey turn round and round.

E be like say the thing sabi sey I dey peep, because the eye just dey roll anyhow, no blink. My mind dey calculate—should I on my torch, abi just lock up?

I even dey hear heavy, rush-rush breathing from outside the door.

The sound get one kind weight, e no resemble human. E resemble wetin I hear that time bush dog dey chase fowl for backyard—heavy, like wet cloth dey slap wall.

As e be say I never open the door, the thing for outside begin knock harder.

*Dong dong dong*

*Dong dong dong*

The knock begin enter my bone, each sound like bell for burial ground. I just dey freeze, leg dey shake. Na only the ticking of my old wall clock dey join the beat.

I just hold my mouth, no gree make any sound, dey ready to tiptoe go hide somewhere.

I dey pray make generator no gree off, because light go dey help calm mind, abi?

Next thing, the blood-red eyeball shift back small, and I fit see the full person outside.

I wipe sweat from face, focus better for peephole. E be like say moonlight from corridor dey shine for the person face.

As I see am clear, my mind calm down small.

Which monkey with red eye?

Na Uncle Musa from property management dey outside, clear as day.

Even with the fear, I fit recognize the faded green uniform and him rubber slippers wey always dey drag for corridor.

Uncle Musa no dey talk—na mute e be—so e just dey knock, e no fit shout.

I remember the first time I meet am, he just dey smile, point at my water bill, no talk. Everybody know say he dey harmless, e no dey trouble anybody.

But why e eye red like say blood dey inside? Property work dey tire person reach like this? Abi e get wahala for e eye?

My mind dey turn. Maybe na conjunctivitis, abi na dust enter eye? Or maybe dem beat am for street? I reason say e fit dey sick—people dey suffer for this Lagos.

As I dey reason am, I open group chat, scroll up, dey find whether I miss any property inspection message.

My hand dey shake, but I use the little light from phone dey scroll. Even see small battery warning pop up.

After all, for midnight like this, if property wan check anything, dem suppose send emergency notice before.

I remember last time dem check water tank, dem send notice. So I search for anything wey resemble warning.

True true, I see one message from property for 11:30pm:

[Emergency Notice: Rain and breeze go heavy tonight as big storm dey enter our city. For una safety, property people go check doors and windows around midnight. Abeg, prepare.]

Thunder rumble for distance, breeze dey push curtain for window, like spirit wan enter. My mind relax small. E fit be say na normal check.

Under that message, people just dey complain, even dey curse, say why property go disturb for night.

Na so people dey type, "Na thunder dey disturb, not property!" and "Who send una message? Allow person rest!" Somebody even drop voice note say, "If una knock my door this night, na hot water go greet una!"

So the message don waka up for chat, I no see am on time.

All the chat dey choke, new messages don bury am.

My mind come rest.

I take one deep breath, tap my chest three times—like Mama dey do for house—make I clear bad thought.

So na property management really dey check door and window. No monkey.

I hold the door handle, wan open am, but e be like say my mind dey warn me.

Dem dey talk say, “If you see wetin pass you, abeg close eye waka.” My hand still dey for handle, but leg no gree move.

You know that kind feeling when village people dey talk say, "If e no clear, abeg no open." My mind dey prick me, warning dey ring for head.

I peep the peephole again, look Uncle Musa well.

I shift my eye, press forehead for door small, make sure say no be sleep dey worry me.

That extra look na e save me, because I see say something no pure.

Na so Holy Spirit dey help sometimes o. That second look dey important.

Uncle Musa no tall pass 1.7 meters.

I dey remember well—when he dey greet people, he dey bend small.

But this Musa get shoulder like bouncer—no be the broomstick Musa wey dey play draughts under sun.

Shoulder wide, muscle dey show for sleeve, e no resemble the Uncle Musa wey dey always thin like broomstick.

And Uncle Musa dey always play draughts under sun—e skin dey dark, red and dey shine.

I remember that shine—sweat dey always dey e forehead. But this one outside pale like person wey never chop for three days.

But this one own be like dead person—grey, pale, no shine.

My body just begin cold like say na ice water dem pour for my back.

Cold run me for body. I remember those horror book wey I read before. Abi Uncle Musa don die, and na person dey use e body scare people?

All those Nollywood films flash for my mind—people dey borrow skin, masquerade dey wear person face. My mouth dey shake.

I look well again, but na only Uncle Musa dey outside—no second person.

I even dey shift peephole up and down, hope say e get another shadow, but nothing dey.

And Uncle Musa eye still dey move, e face dey do expression. How corpse go do that one?

The way e face dey twist, no be like dead person wey dey stiff. E even dey squeeze e brow, mouth dey move small like say e wan talk but no fit.

Suddenly, "Uncle Musa" show one kind wicked smile for my door.

E mouth wide, teeth yellow, but e gum white like chalk.

Teeth dey jaga-jaga, some big, some small, e resemble those old women for village wey never brush well.

Those blood-red eyes still dey look my door strong.

E just dey stare, like say e dey look through door, see my heart. My leg weak, back touch wall.

Sharp sharp, as if e know say I no go open, e turn waka go 502—my neighbor opposite.

E waka like person wey get mission, footstep dey heavy, slippers dey drag. Corridor light flicker one kind—e resemble scene from horror film.

Na that moment, as e turn, fear nearly kill me.

I see wetin dey behind am—