My house help cooks for a family of six every single day, but for the past two years, I have never seen her swallow a single grain of rice.
At first, I thought she was shy. You know how these girls from the village behave when they first arrive in Lagos. They act humble, look down when you talk to them, and refuse to eat at the table. We brought Chidinma from a remote village in Ebonyi state to help with my triplets.
She was perfect. Too perfect.
She woke up at 4:00 AM to wash clothes. She cleaned the house until the tiles sparkled like mirrors. My husband, Kunle, praised her every day.
“Babe, you are lucky o,” he would say while eating the Afang soup she prepared. “This girl is a machine. Don’t stress her.”
But my spirit could not rest.
I tried to force her to eat. I would dish a mountain of Jollof rice with chicken and say, “Chidinma, sit down and eat this now.”
She would kneel, two hands on the floor, shaking. “Madam, please. I am fasting. My church says I must fast for my family.”
Fasting for two years? Which kind of church is that?
The real trouble started last month. My last born, Tolu, started complaining of neck pain. He is only four years old. He would wake up in the middle of the night screaming, holding his neck.
“Mummy, heavy. Auntie is heavy.”
I checked his neck. There were no marks, but the boy was losing weight. He looked like an old man. His skin was dry.
I told Kunle we needed to send Chidinma away. He shouted at me.
“Are you losing your mind?” he yelled. “Because the girl is hardworking, you want to sack her? You are jealous because she runs this house better than you!”
I was shocked. Kunle had never spoken to me like that before. It was like something was controlling his tongue.
That was when I decided to be smart. I went to Alaba International Market and bought three hidden spy cameras. I didn’t tell my husband. I didn’t tell anyone.
I installed one in the kitchen, one in the boys’ room, and one in Chidinma’s BQ.
Yesterday, I waited for everyone to sleep. I sat in my car outside the gate, watching the live feed on my phone.
What I saw made my blood run cold.
At exactly 1:00 AM, Chidinma woke up in her BQ. She wasn’t wearing her nightgown. She was completely unclothed. She brought out a small wooden box from under her bed.
She opened it and brought out a fresh raw piece of meat. It was dripping red. She ate it in one bite.
Then, she walked out of the BQ. I switched the camera view to the main house.
She walked straight to the boys’ room. The door was locked, but she didn’t open it. She stood in front of the door and she stretched.
Her body began to elongate. Her arms grew long like rubber, sliding under the gap of the door.
I covered my mouth to stop myself from screaming.
Inside the room, the camera showed her long snake-like arms wrapping around Tolu. She wasn’t choking him. She was squeezing him gently, and a white smoke was coming out of my son’s nose and entering story by jerry smith her pores.
She was feeding on his life.
I dropped the phone and ran inside the house. I needed to save my son. I grabbed a heavy pestle from the kitchen and ran upstairs.
I burst into the children’s room, ready to defend them.
But the room was empty.
The beds were made. The boys were gone.
I turned around, and there was Chidinma, standing behind me. She wasn’t long anymore. She looked normal. She was holding Tolu in her arms, smiling.
But it wasn’t a normal smile. Her mouth was too wide.
“Madam,” she whispered, her voice sounding like grinding stones. “You should have stayed in the car. Now, we need a new mother.”
Then I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to see my husband, Kunle.
He was holding a long sharp blade.
“Honey?” I cried, reaching for him.
He looked at me with dead black eyes. He raised the steel.
“Chidinma is hungry,” he said.
I am locking myself in the bathroom now. They are banging on the door. The wood is cracking.
What do I do?
