DSEL AI

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Tittle : Hiding in the shadows

PART 1

Screams echoed down the hallway. A crowd had formed outside the ballet changing room. On the floor lay a senior boy, blo0d dripping from his nose, groaning. Above him stood my brother Chika—quiet, gentle Chika—his shirt torn, his face bruised, chest rising and falling like he had been fighting for his life.

Through the half-open door, ballerina girls huddled together, crying, clutching their chest. One of them pointed and shouted, her voice trembling.
“You were watching us ch@nge, Chika! You’re disgust!ng!”

Phones shot up instantly. The world turned into flashing screens.

Chika’s hands went up, frantic, desperate.
“No! Please—it’s not what you think!”

But no one listened. The senior on the ground spat blo0d and sneered,

“I caught him peeeping the girl’s n@kedness. Chika att@cked me when I tried to stop him.”

Gasps. Shouts. Laughter. Someone yelled: “P€rvert! Pred@tor!”

I shoved my way through, screaming at them to stop.

“You all know Chika! I pointed at Chika’s best friend. He’s your friend—he would never do that!”

But they didn’t care. They said I was defending him because he was my brother. Their anger grew like fire. Then they rushed towards us. I screamed

“Chika run!”

We ran. Through the noise, through the mob, straight into the principal’s office. I locked the door.

I told Principal Grace everything. Of course she didn’t believe me. She called the senior in.

He lied smoothly. Chika tried to defend himself, but his small, breaking voice drowned under the weight of the accusation.

We were told to bring our parents. Chika was expelled. I was suspended—for being “disrespectful.” Just like that, the truth didn’t matter. Money did. Power did.

The shame spread like wildfire. A video of the incident went viral. My mother was humiliated at work. Our windows were shattered with stones. I was att@cked on my way to church.

Chika… he broke. He cried every night. He couldn’t eat. He talked about €nding his lifee.

So we left. Packed our things. Moved to another city. Started over.

But secrets always find you.

SOMETHING LIVES IN THAT HOUSE

CHAPTER 1

I live across the street.
My name doesn’t matter.
What matters is what I saw… or what I thought I saw.

From my window, I could see theirs.
And from theirs… I watched something beautiful rot.

The house wasn’t always quiet.
There were once laughs echoing through that window.
Two teenaged— Amara and her younger brother, Toba— full of life.

Until the silence began.
The kind that hums like static… and then chokes everything else out.

A Glimpse of Ordinary

The family moved into number 12 just six months ago.
A quiet street. Jointed houses. Old roofs.
The kind of place where the street securities knows your name.

I remember their mother — Chinyere.
She had the kind of smile that made you feel bad for frowning.
Always humming. Always sweeping.

The children — fifteen and sixteen — were different.
Not popular, not loud. But warm.
They played chess by the window.
Read books on the stairs.

Their father a military man moved in with them. Then he was gone.

They waved when I waved.
Until the waving stopped.

CHAPTER 2
NEED – The Shift

It started subtly.
A curtain stayed closed for too long.
The mother stopped humming.

Then one day…
No one came out.
Not for school. Not for groceries. Not for church.

And then…
One morning —
An ambulance.
No sirens.
Just silence.

CHAPTER 3
GO – After the Funeral

I heard she died in her sleep.
No sickness. No injury. Just… gone.

But I know death.
And I know when it doesn’t smell natural.

That house didn’t just lose a mother.
It lost its light.

Amara and Toba came back from the burial changed.
They didn’t cry.
They didn’t speak.
Not to me.
Not to each other.

Not to anyone.

I thought it was grief.
But grief doesn’t turn children mute overnight.
Grief doesn’t make windows bleed.

CHAPTER 4
SEARCH – The Signs

Yes, I said bleed.

That night, I saw it.
A smear on the inside of the glass.
Dark.
Slow.
Dripping from the frame like paint.

I blinked. It was gone.

The next morning, a blackbird slammed on their window.
Neck snapped. Eyes wide.

They didn’t open the door.
They didn’t move the bird.

Days passed.
The curtains never moved again.
And yet… every night, I saw lights flicker in that house like someone was still moving.

Or something.

CHAPTER 5
FIND – The Discovery

On the 12th day, I broke.

I crossed the street.
Rang the bell.

Nothing.

So I waited.
Waited for the night to reveal what the day could not.

And that’s when I saw the kids from my window.

Amara, standing still in the center of the living room, unmoving.
Tobe, crawling on all four kneels—
Not like a child.
Like something else was inside him.

I know possession when I see it.
And I know when a house doesn’t belong to the people inside it anymore.

CHAPTER 6
THE BASEMENT WHISPERS

The lights flicker. Again.

A low growl hums through my roof. I freeze by my kitchen, but the sound fades—like it slid into the walls.

I hear footsteps upstairs the kids room.
But the kids are supposed to be asleep.

I decided to check up on them.

I had to.

The front door was unlocked. Otherwise, I would have used my hair pin.
The house… too quiet.
Dark. The switches, not working.

I creep up the staircase.

The door to the mother’s room is wide open.
Toba and Amara lie stiff on the bed. Eyes open. Not blinking. Pale.

I whisper their names.

No response.

Then—a low, wet breath—not from the kids.
From the corner.

A shape. Hunched. Human-like. Breathing too slowly.

I flick on my flashlight—nothing is there.

I hear something from below now. Whispering. Chanting?

I descend into the basement.
Cobwebs brush my cheeks.
Old symbols etched into the walls. Faded. Scratched over.

Suddenly—silence.

I pull a curtain aside.

bones. A pile.
Tiny shoes nearby.

And behind me… her.

Chinyere.

But it wasn’t her.

Her eyes were hollow. Deep. Ancient.

CHINYERE (but not her)
You shouldn’t be here.

She rushes me— I fall.

Everything goes dark.

CHAPTER 7
THE TRAP

I wake up tied standing, hands stretched above my head, arms fastened to the ceiling beam. My feet barely touch the floor.

Across the room: the children. Silent. Eyes glazed. Not blinking.

And behind them — it stood.
It invokes on them.

Wearing the mother’s skin like a borrowed dress.

THIS THING IN THE MOTHER’S BODY Says
“I gave them peace. No more fighting. No more grief.
I offered them silence.”

That’s when it hit me.
It feeds on silence. On brokenness.
It waited. For pain. For loss.

THE THING CONTINUES

“He broke the pact.
I was owed blood. I was forgotten.”

I couldn’t take it anymore then I screamed.

“Stop it! Let them go! What do you want from this family? They are good people”.

It, she, whatever, replied me!

She turned speedily- “Good people?” She was standing before me all of a sudden.

She grabs my head.

And I see everything as we transition to the past.

It was once a family spirit. Revered. Respected by their ancestors.
But when the kids father stopped the rituals—the idol turned.

Now, the children were offerings.
Preserved in silence.

Then suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. She was shocking me. I felt my leg leave the ground.

CHAPTER 8
THE FIGHT

I twist, strain, break loose. She threw me to the wall.

I fall. I crawl.
Toba baseball bat is under the table.
I rush.

I grip it—
CRACK!

I swing at the idol. It splits.

The house howls.
The walls ripple like water.
The creature shrieks.
Lights come back on.

THE THING inside Chiyere (in mother’s voice)
“You broke the circle!
You dare silence me?!”

The children gasp—like waking from underwater.

I scream—
“RUN!”

We make it to the stairs—
But she appears.

Faster than thought and light.

She lifts me by the throat. My voice fades.

She’s taking it.

Taking my silence. My mind now.

Then—

BANG!

The front door bursts open.

THEIR FATHER.

Dress in military uniform. Tears down his cheeks.

“Daddy!”
Toba! Amara! Ran to their father from my side.

The thing inside Chiyere freezes. I fall to the floor, coughing hard.

Then it turns to the father.

The Father shocks to see his dead wife.
Chiyere! He called out. Drawing to area the image of Chiyere.

THE THING
“You left me.
You left all of us.
You promised me blood.”

She lunges at him. Squeezing his throat.

CHAPTER 9
THE ENDING

I scream with my last breath.

ME
Toba! The bat! NOW!

Toba throws it.
I catch it—swing—

THWACK!

Straight into her skull.

The idol ignites before us.
Frames and other things falls like there have been an earthquake.

The creature lets out a sound like metal bending, then

Silence.

Not the haunted kind.
Not the waiting kind.

Real.
Final.
Peace.

CHAPTER 10
New Beginning

Outside at dawn

Sunrise.

Ambulance lights flash.

Toba and Amara wrapped in blankets.
Their father beside them. The ambulance drives them away.

END NIGHTMARE

My eyes sprang open.
I was lying in my bedroom, pregnant, with my husband sleeping peacefully beside me.

It was all a nightmare.

Or… was it a vision of something to come?

I got up from the bed and walked to my window.

I opened it as usual.

Chinyere was outside, sweeping her frontage like she always did.

Her children, Amara and Toba, stepped out happily, ready for school.

A taxi pulled up in front of the house.

Their father, a military man, stepped out.

Chinyere and the children ran into his arms, embracing him.

I stood there, watching.

Quiet.

Still.

I think I need to see my doctor.

This pregnancy morning sickness has started again.

THE END