I wanted to speak. I wanted to move. But fear held me back.
And then… she walked to my cupboard.
She stood there, her body blocking whatever she was doing inside the cupboard. I couldn’t see her hands, couldn’t hear anything—just silence. Heavy, haunting silence.
I laid there, drowning in questions, fear tightening its grip around my chest. I didn’t know what to think. When she turned, she didn’t speak. She just walked towards the door with piece of cloth that concealed something. I couldn’t tell what was inside and it felt somehow heavy.. Prisca looked at me again to confirm my state before finally leaving and shutting the door.
I waited about five minutes, trying to process everything, then quietly stepped out through the back door. The compound was silent—too silent. No footsteps, no distant voices. My neighbours’ homes were locked as well.
I looked around. The overhead bulbs casted pale lights over one side of the yard, but the area was completely empty.
My head buzzed with questions, but I stayed calm.
I decided to follow the narrow, bushy path—the same one Prisca always mentioned whenever she stepped out late at night, claiming she just needed to ease herself. We even pass the road to dispose some of our diets at times. My feet moved on their own, careful not to make noise, while my heart thudded like a drum inside my chest.
Halfway through the path, I raised my torch and swiped the beam ahead.
That was when I saw it.
A figure—faint but familiar—crouched ahead. My heart skipped. It looked like her. The shape, the posture... it had to be Prisca. But just as I tried to focus, the torchlight blinked and died. Darkness swallowed everything.
My body jerked in fear.
I stepped back, hitting the torch against my palm, almost pleading for it to come back on. My breathing was shaky. My mind, spinning.
And it clicked.
There she was.
Prisca. The wrapper I had seen her with was tossed behind her.
She had turned sharply in my direction. Something—long and thin, like a stick—was clenched between her lips. Fear gripped me so tightly that my legs refused to move. She was Naked, with nothing on but the waist beads clinging to her hips.
Prisca Squatted low in the grass. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her bare legs, like someone trying to shield herself from a cold only they could feel. She looked like someone preparing for something, like someone in the middle of a ritual, something I couldn’t fathom.
I wanted to speak. I wanted to move. But fear held me back.
And then… she walked to my cupboard.
She stood there, her body blocking whatever she was doing inside the cupboard. I couldn’t see her hands, couldn’t hear anything—just silence. Heavy, haunting silence.
I laid there, drowning in questions, fear tightening its grip around my chest. I didn’t know what to think. When she turned, she didn’t speak. She just walked towards the door with piece of cloth that concealed something. I couldn’t tell what was inside and it felt somehow heavy.. Prisca looked at me again to confirm my state before finally leaving and shutting the door.
I waited about five minutes, trying to process everything, then quietly stepped out through the back door. The compound was silent—too silent. No footsteps, no distant voices. My neighbours’ homes were locked as well.
I looked around. The overhead bulbs casted pale lights over one side of the yard, but the area was completely empty.
My head buzzed with questions, but I stayed calm.
I decided to follow the narrow, bushy path—the same one Prisca always mentioned whenever she stepped out late at night, claiming she just needed to ease herself. We even pass the road to dispose some of our diets at times. My feet moved on their own, careful not to make noise, while my heart thudded like a drum inside my chest.
Halfway through the path, I raised my torch and swiped the beam ahead.
That was when I saw it.
A figure—faint but familiar—crouched ahead. My heart skipped. It looked like her. The shape, the posture... it had to be Prisca. But just as I tried to focus, the torchlight blinked and died. Darkness swallowed everything.
My body jerked in fear.
I stepped back, hitting the torch against my palm, almost pleading for it to come back on. My breathing was shaky. My mind, spinning.
And it clicked.
There she was.
Prisca. The wrapper I had seen her with was tossed behind her.
She had turned sharply in my direction. Something—long and thin, like a stick—was clenched between her lips. Fear gripped me so tightly that my legs refused to move. She was Naked, with nothing on but the waist beads clinging to her hips.
Prisca Squatted low in the grass. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her bare legs, like someone trying to shield herself from a cold only they could feel. She looked like someone preparing for something, like someone in the middle of a ritual, something I couldn’t fathom.
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