10/08/2025
CHAINS OF BLOOD
EPISODE 2
Written by Florenceenobun
The small apartment where Isaac Owen lived doubled as his DJ studio. Wires tangled across the tiled floor, and giant speakers flanked the walls like sentinels. Posters of international music icons clung to the ceiling with yellowed tape.
That night, the room was lit with the harsh white glare of a single naked bulb as Richard paced back and forth, replaying Sarah’s rejection over and over in his mind.
He couldn’t shake the feeling of humiliation. She had bruised his pride—made him feel invisible in front of people he desperately wanted to impress.
Isaac, sprawled across a torn couch with a bottle of energy drink in hand, listened with mild amusement.
“Guy, leave this babe matter,” he said at first, laughing. “You dey behave like say na your wife she be.”
But Richard was in no mood for jokes.
“It’s not just about her saying no. It’s the way she looks at me… like I’m nothing.”
His voice trembled with a strange mix of anger and desperation. Isaac sat up.
“So what do you want? You want to force her to like you?”
Richard looked at him, eyes narrowing. “You know people. People who can... help.”
There was a pause.
Then Isaac leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper.
“There’s someone. Baba Tunde. He does love work—proper spiritual things. If you’re serious, he can help you.”
Richard frowned. “Like juju?” Isaac nodded.
“Not the type that harms, unless you want it to. He gives you something that makes the girl see only you. Obedient. Soft. Submissive.”
The idea sat in the air like poison.
Richard hesitated, torn between reason and obsession. “Where can I find him?”
Isaac grinned and picked up his phone. “I’ll take you tomorrow.”
Outside, a dog barked in the distance as the wind rustled the dry leaves scattered along the street. The night, which once held only silence, now stirred with a dark promise.
The next morning broke over Lagos with the usual rush of noise and traffic. Street vendors shouted prices, danfo buses honked impatiently, and clouds of exhaust fumes rose into the humid air.
But deep within the shadows of Mushin, a different kind of path was being taken. Isaac Owen led Richard Adams through a narrow alleyway behind a cluster of old, crumbling buildings.
Richard had never been to this part of town before. It was quiet—too quiet. A strange hush fell over the place, as though the spirits themselves were listening.
They arrived at a compound with high concrete walls covered in cracked cement and overgrown weeds.
The black gate creaked open before they even knocked. A young boy, no older than ten, peered out.
“He’s expecting you,” the boy said flatly, before turning and disappearing into the compound. Richard exchanged a nervous glance with Isaac.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of incense and something else—something metallic and strange.
The yard was bare except for a tree in the center with a single red cloth tied around its trunk. From behind a bamboo curtain, a deep voice called out,
“Enter.” They stepped inside a dark room lit only by a red lantern.
Animal skins lined the floor, and charms dangled from the ceiling like ominous ornaments.
Baba Tunde, a frail-looking old man with sharp eyes and tribal marks carved deep into his face, sat cross-legged in the center. He didn’t greet them. He only stared.
“You want control over a woman,” he said, more statement than question.
Richard nodded slowly.
“She must be yours?” Baba Tunde asked again.
“Yes,” Richard whispered. “She rejected me. But she should have been mine.”
Baba Tunde closed his eyes and muttered under his breath. He opened a small calabash and sprinkled some white powder on the floor. “There will be a price,” he said. “Everything in this world comes with one.”
Isaac stood silently, watching his friend step deeper into a place few men return from.
Coming up.....Episode 3
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