Blackout Terror

It was just past 8 PM when the blackout hit again (or as we call it Dumsor). Another usual evening, another power failure. The moonlight, filtered through the rusted window bars, was the only source of light in the room. The sound of generators could be heard from neighboring houses, but in the boarding house, the only noise came from the quiet hum of the boys shifting and whispering in the dark.

"Ah, chale e be like say this country no go ever fix this light off nonsene," Samuel muttered under his breath, sitting on his bed with his phone light flickering as he scrolled. His friend, Enam, leaned back in the chair by the window, squinting at the dark, wondering if the power would come back soon.

"I swear, the whole country dey go backward," Enam replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion, as he rubbed his eyes.

The room was silent for a while, except for the soft murmur of distant voices. The boys, though used to the interruptions, had grown accustomed to the darkness. It wasn’t uncommon. The smell of burnt candles mixed with sweat and dust filled the air.

 "See, Samuel, if the power no come soon, I go pass out," Enam laughed, wiping sweat from his brow.

But Samuel was silent. He had stopped listening.

Something was wrong.

It wasn’t just the usual discomfort of darkness and heat. There was something else—a feeling in the air that had not been there before. Samuel’s skin prickled. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He glanced toward the door, but nothing stirred.

But even then, something felt different.

He paused, his fingers frozen on his phone. The glow from his screen flickered, casting strange shadows on the walls.

"You feel that?" Samuel’s voice was barely above a whisper, his gaze shifting uneasily toward the door.

Enam didn’t respond immediately. He stared at the doorway, his expression unreadable.

"Feel what?" Enam asked, trying to dismiss the unease creeping into his own mind.

A strange chill ran across the room. It wasn’t the typical coolness of a power outage. It was something colder, something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Enam tried to brush it off, but the feeling didn’t leave.

Samuel shivered, the hairs on his arms standing straight. "I no go lie, Enam, the room dey feel off today," he murmured, his voice low.

At first, they thought it was a figment of their imagination. It couldn’t be her again. Not after a month of peace. But then, the unmistakable sound came again, this time closer. The faint shuffle of feet on the floor.

They looked at each other, eyes wide with panic.

"You hear that?" Enam’s voice cracked as he instinctively moved to close the window.

Samuel nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. "I hear am. This no be joke. It’s like—"

Enam shifted uncomfortably. "Shh! You hear that?"

A soft shuffle echoed from the hall, like bare feet gliding across the floor. But there was no one there. No one at all. And yet the sound came again, nearer this time.

Enam’s eyes darted nervously toward the door. "Who is that?" he called out, but his voice barely carried. The room was too still, too quiet now. A silence so thick it was suffocating.

Samuel’s body tensed. He felt a cold hand—no, not a hand, but something like it—brush against his cheek. The touch was impossibly light, but it burned through his skin. He froze, his heart racing. The sensation of a presence was undeniable, but there was nothing there. Nothing visible. Only the unnerving touch, the cold breath on his neck.

Enam’s body suddenly went stiff, his eyes wide with terror. "Samuel... Samuel, she’s here again!" His voice cracked, barely a whisper.

The room became darker still. The walls felt like they were closing in, and the air grew heavier, thick with the pressure of something ancient. The cold seethed beneath their skin, pressing in on their ribs, making it impossible to breathe.

Then, a whisper—a breathy, seductive sound—came from the corner of the room, like someone speaking directly into their ears. "You cannot hide from me."

Samuel tried to move, to speak, but his body refused to obey. His limbs were frozen, locked in place by the crushing weight of the invisible force. The terror built inside him like a dam about to burst. He tried to scream, but his mouth stayed sealed, his voice lost in his throat.

The cold hand returned, this time running along the back of his neck. It wasn’t a hand, though. It was the essence of something malevolent, something that lingered just beyond the edge of vision. A presence that clawed at their very souls, touching them, but not in any physical way. It was as though the air itself was alive, breathing on them, curling around their bodies like a snake preparing to strike.

Suddenly, the door banged open.

"Oi! Samuel! Enam! Time for evening devotion!" It was David and Nana, two other boys from the room. They stood in the doorway, looking confused. "What are you two doing? Come on, let's go!"

David and Nana paused at the door, sensing the tension in the room. Both of them glanced at each other uneasily.

"Why is it so cold in here? Did the power come back on?" Nana asked, frowning, his breath visible in the air.

Before either of them could respond, Enam let out a strangled gasp. His face was ashen, his eyes wide with terror.

"David... Nana... something’s wrong. We... we can’t move... we can’t speak!" Enam’s voice was barely audible, trapped by the invisible force.

David, sensing the shift in atmosphere, crossed the room and knelt beside Enam, grabbing his hand. "What’s happening to you guys?" he asked, his voice shaking.

As David touched Enam’s hand, the room seemed to hum with an eerie energy, a presence growing stronger in the air. The temperature dropped even further, and the flickering candle flames seemed to twist, bending unnaturally toward the center of the room.

Nana turned to David, his eyes wide. "I no go lie, something dey here. Something bad."

Without thinking, David closed his eyes and began to speak in tongues—low at first, then rising in intensity, his voice a steady stream of guttural sounds that echoed through the room. Nana joined him, his hands raised as he too spoke words that did not belong to the world they knew.

The temperature seemed to rise as their voices filled the room. The fire within the room, fed by their prayers, began to spread, the warmth becoming unbearable, searing through the cold like an inferno.

The shadows in the corners of the room twisted violently, screeching in response to the growing fire. The presence—whatever it was—seemed to recoil. The cold hand that had been tormenting them pulled away, vanishing into the ether, but the darkness remained.

Then, a shadow flashed past the window, a blur so quick it was almost imperceptible. The boys froze, staring at the window, their breath caught in their throats.

A loud thud echoed from outside the room, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground.

David, Nana, Samuel, and Enam exchanged fearful looks. Without hesitation, they rushed to the window and threw it open, hearts pounding in their chests.

Right outside the window, in the soft moonlight, lay a crow. But it wasn’t just any crow. It had been burnt, its feathers charred black, its body twisted and lifeless. The stench of burning flesh wafted through the air, choking them as they stared at the bird in horror.

“Jesus, what is this?” Nana whispered, his voice trembling.

"This no be normal kai," David said, his voice barely a whisper. “This is a sign.”

“Jesus, what is this?” Kwame whispered, his voice trembling.

The boys rushed outside, determined to figure out what had happened. But when they reached the spot where the crow had fallen, it was gone. Not a trace remained.

The room, once filled with the heavy presence, now stood still. The air was unnaturally quiet, and the candle flames flickered only slightly, as if in exhaustion.

Whatever had been with them was gone, but the feeling that something ancient and malevolent had visited their home stayed, lingering like the aftertaste of a bitter nightmare.

They would never be the same. They would never forget.