It's been 20 years since I last step foot into this place, but here I am standing at the gates of the cursed village, looking into the distance of the deserted area, memories of old times rushing in my head, ghosts of the dead children of this village staring widely at me wondering why I am here. 

Two decades ago when I was 15 this village died. The first of the disaster was with a child, we all cried along with his mother and sisters, unknown to us the chapter of this tragic story has only begun. 

There is a large well at the outskirt of our village, the mouth of the well is so big and massive that it is easily half the size of the smallest farm in our land. In our land the smallest farm can contain 12 huts now imagine the size of that well. 

The first death took kwasu away in that well, his small 9-year-old agile body was swallowed by the water. His friends screamed and ran, pots of water were left on unattended to, fear gripped them as they ran, they reached a group of farmers first and fearfully reported what they had seen. All through the day and even at night they search; strong and tall men dived into the deep well to find kwasu's body, his mother trashed and screamed and cried, she tried desperately to jump into the water but the other mourners held her back. Even after 40 days Kwasu's body was never found.  

Later rumor has It that when anyone goes to fetch water at night from that well they hear the voice of Kwasu laughing. The chief sent some observers there to confirm this, 7 days later they told the people the rumor was a lie. Our people soon forgot all about Kwasu and continued fetching water from the well. 

The second child the well snatched away was Futami. She and her friends placed their water pots on their head leaving for their houses, suddenly Futami dropped her water pots and turned back, "I'm coming back, the water is calling my name" was the last statement she made before drowning into the well willingly. The screams of the other children attracted so much people to the scene. Hours and days later, after numerous search and fail, Futami's body was never recovered, the water swallowed her up without the intention of vomiting her out. 

The third child followed her mother and suddenly fainted by the lips of the well, while her mother was frantically shaking her and shouting at her to wake up, the water behind her rose up from the well and the girl's mother with the people around her jumped back with a piercing scream and face full of shock. Within those few seconds the water flooded the small area where the girl was and took her into the well. The woman ran mad upon seeing such strange incident, the people who were around her were trembling with shock even after days, the girl's body like the others never floated up, she remained buried in the belly of the water. 

Consequently no one used the well again, people called it the water of the dead, the mouth was shut and padlocked, children were threateningly warned to stay off that area but the tragedy has only started. 

It didn't take long before one child here or another child there died strangely. One Zikuni the first son of his parents was strangled in broad daylight on the village field while playing ball. He kept holding his neck, his face twisting with pain, he fell and rolled on the floor, his friends watched him amused, they thought he was showcasing a joke and so they were laughing. However when Zikuni remained still on the ground, with the sun glaring at him, his friends moved closer it was then they realized with shock that Zikuni is dead. 

Cries of pain and agony rang out through the village, the bodies of one child or the other were held lifeless by their grieved mothers, the village was in confusion of what is happening, clouds of sorrow gathered in the sky, no one had a solution to the problem. 

It didn't take long before the ghosts of these children started to chase after their family and torture them. Mothers ran away from their farms screaming at an invincible child to leave them alone, fathers were flogged with unseen cain by their dead children, the whole village was in chaos. 

The first family to move out to another land faraway from here was Badani's family. This hasty decision was made when Badani's ghost stabbed his sister with the knife she was using to slice yam at the kitchen. The family said her last words were "Badani please stop". 

The ghosts of these children raged and scattered the land, everyone felt their anger and pain in the chaos they caused, but who killed them? 

There was no use appeasing them, the people quickly termed them as devils and soon every family started running away. 

Two decades later as I stand on the soil of this forbidden land, I hear the echoes of children's laughter, the chatter of their mothers, all gone. The land is empty of huts and humans, farms and workers, markets and traders, chiefs and people, it is now a place where no one wants to stay. 

I feel the steady stares of the ghosts, their curious eyes asking who I am, I feel their movements around me, I smell the blood on their hands, I hear their grumblings and whispering, and so I ask them one question that I always wanted to ask; "what happened to you?"