September 4, 2025. Lagos Island.
Lagos is the opposite of itself. No danfo horns, no hawkers shouting, no Afrobeat spilling from speakers in roadside shops. The streets are as dead as a graveyard. Far into the city, one could hear the loud roar of the ocean. A city that was louder than itself became the com-fort of an introvert.
Hiding in Papa's provision store with dusty shelves and broken windows, I felt Bisi's arms clutch mine tightly like she was tube again. I turned to her. She was a shadow of herself. Her breath was so loud that it almost drowned out my thoughts. Her face was pale in the dim light.
I rubbed her arms gently, maybe that would calm the fears within her or me too. She opened her mouth to speak but shut it back. Then she stared at me. I could see her fears through her eyes. Her thoughts, she couldn't hold back anymore. And for someone who mocked me for reading too much literature, she whispered to me in the dark with the words of a poet,
“Ade, Lagos is holding its breath.”
I looked at her and smiled. She was right. Lagos was a ghost town. Everyone was hiding but no one could see what we were hiding from.
I nodded. I wished I could do more.
Bisi was shaking, her breath kept rising. She kept asking if they were here. I wanted to an-swer but again, I couldn't even see what we were hiding from. Some said they weren't hu-mans, others said you could only feel them on your skin as it turns cold and your heart for-gets its rhythm, only then can you see them.
At least that was what I heard from our neighbor, Tolu who survived an attack. He was walk-ing back from the bakery, swinging a bag of bread, humming like nothing was wrong. When something hit him hard, sending his purchase to the floor and him to the other end of the gut-ter. He was lucky to have survived the attack. That’s how we learned the whispers were true. The invaders were invisible.
I turned to Bisi. “I don’t know,” I replied.
Tonight, the invaders were attacking again. We were just about closing for the day when we heard a sound outside. First, it was like the growling of a cat slamming into a tin can. Sudden-ly, people began running. I saw a man being thrown away by an invisible force and another sucked into space. I saw a mother being pulled away from her baby still by an invisible force.
It wasn't long until Bisi jumped into my arms, digging her nails into me.
"Stay behind me,” I told her as we quickly ran back into the shop and shut the doors. Then, I grabbed the only Cutlass Papa left for whenever he needed to cut the overgrown grasses outside. My hands shook as I held the cutlass, the only weapon I had. And without seeing my attacker, it felt useless, but I couldn’t just wait to die.
Suddenly, the air shifted. The wall calendar in the shop started swaying, though there was no wind. Bisi's eyes widened. She mouthed the words,
“They’re here.”
I held her mouth and pulled her into the inner chambers of the shop. Then we hid behind a counter. Then came the growling, the calendar by the wall ripped apart, yanked by something we couldn’t see.
Then I felt it, a cold shiver on my arms, just like our neighbor had described. My breath caught. I quickly swung the cutlass wildly towards the direction of the force, slicing air. Im-mediately, a strong force slammed into me, knocking me flat. Bisi screamed as he fell flat on my back. I felt my chest burn and invisible hands crushing my throat. I struggled to breathe. My vision gradually blurred.
“Let him go!” I heard Bisi's voice cut through the haze. I wanted to shout at her to run but something held my throat. I threw weak punches into the air. Hoping to hit the invader at a weak spot. But my punches weren't strong enough to hurt a fly. I was getting weak, like a strong urge to pass out
Then I heard a loud shattering of a bottle on the floor, spilling everywhere. I felt oxygen rush into my chest. Life into my soul. I opened my eyes to see Bisi throwing more bottles in the air.
That’s when I saw it. For the first time. Like blood spilling out. Only this time, it was great in colour and slimy like oil. It clings to a shape that wasn’t human. It was taller than the doorway, limbs bending in ways I can’t describe like aliens we see in movies. Shrieking loudly like the sound of glass breaking in my head. I held my ears. Bisi did too. My mind screamed. Almost exploding. Some emotions are better felt than explained. I thought I’d go mad.
Then, just as suddenly, it vanished, leaving only the mess of oil and shards of glass.
Bisi helped me up. Her hands were trembling, but her voice was steady.
“Are you okay?" She asked.
I coughed and nodded. "I'm fine. You?"
"I am. Please tell me you saw it, didn’t you?”
I could barely speak. My throat was raw. “Yes. I saw it.”
"We have to get out of here." She said,
"Nice idea." I bent over some bottle crates and handed her as many bottles as she could car-ry. Then I went for the condemned oil by the generator and picked up my Cutlass again.
"Whenever you hear that shrieking sound again. Throw some oil in the air to reveal their bod-ies and location. Then attack with as many bottles as you can. If a bottle can hurt it that much, that means they're too fragile. Their only advantage is their invisibility."
Bisi nodded. She believed me, though I’m not sure I believed myself. "So where are we go-ing?" She asked.
"Home," I said, though I wasn’t sure home was safe anymore.
I pushed her behind me and kicked the door open. And with so much courage we forged into the streets. Bisi clutched the bottles like they were grenades. I raised Papa’s cutlass.
It was like war but not against flesh and blood, but against something unseen. Against si-lence.
And deep down, I knew we’d survive. Even if we have to fight shadows.
