Part 1: The Encounter at the Shop

In Kado, a Hausa neighborhood within the federal capital territory of Abuja, lies an area defined by narrow alleys and a dense canopy of mango trees. This heavy shade causes the neighborhood to grow dark early; by 6:00 PM, one must light a lamp to navigate the thick gloom unless there is a full moon. It is a bustling neighborhood, densely populated, with people everywhere attending to their businesses. There are vendors, small shopkeepers, and elderly women selling traditional snacks to children.
A young girl stood there, wearing a long white dress that had turned black from sheer filth. She was naturally fair-skinned, a fact visible at a single glance, but she was entirely covered in grime. Her hair was long, but due to severe neglect, it had become matted, tangled, and wild with dirt, falling entirely over her face. She constantly had to push it aside just to see what was ahead of her.
Anyone with a shred of compassion would feel their heart break for her, for she looked utterly pitiful. She walked slowly until she reached the entrance of a small provisions shop. Standing at the doorway, she parted the hair masking her face and peered inside. At that moment, the shopkeeper was bending down to pick something up. When he looked up and their eyes met, his heart suddenly dropped with absolute dread.
Instantly, his demeanor changed, and it was clear from a single look that he was completely enraged. "What the hell do you want me to give you, huh? You came yesterday too, standing at my shop door, pointing at your mouth and stomach. And today you're back? What the hell do you want from me?"
She raised one hand, parted her lips, pointed a finger inside her mouth, and then lowered it to point at her stomach, just as she had done the previous day. Any sensible observer would immediately understand that she was hungry and begging for food—and the shopkeeper understood this perfectly well himself.
"Look at this insolence! You clearly don't know who I am or how ruthless I can be, but by God, I will show you today! Am I your father, that you keep coming to show me your hunger? Or did you think that because I only chased you away yesterday without physically hurting you, you could just return? Let's see."
He immediately turned around and picked up a double-tailed leather whip (dorina), which was soaked in oil to make it sting intensely—he had bought it specifically to discipline children. He began wiping the whip, which was still slick and greasy with oil, muttering all the while: "You obviously don't know that it's been a long time since I've practiced my cruelty. Cruelty is like my clothing; if I don't wear it, I feel completely naked."
Turning back around, he expected her to have fled out of fear at the sight of the whip. Instead, he saw the exact opposite—she opened her mouth again and gestured just as she had done before.
Further enraged, he quickly opened the small wooden counter door and stepped out. Without hesitation, he began to whip her severely, grabbing hold of her and shouting, "Let me teach you a lesson so you think twice before coming back tomorrow, you cursed child! I am not your father, so why should I give you food?" As he beat her, her quiet whimpering quickly turned into loud screams. This finally caught the attention of the neighbors. They rushed over in a crowd, rescued the girl from his grasp, while he continued to vent his fury, ranting that she had disrespected him and would likely dare to return tomorrow.

Part 2: Rescue and Transformation

A young man stepped forward, taking hold of the girl and gently comforting her. Unlike the other onlookers, he showed no disgust toward her filth. "Shush, take heart, little girl, it's okay. Good grief, Muktar! I had no idea your lack of decency had deteriorated to this level. I thought your vicious insults and anger were reserved for adults, but it turns out you abuse children too," said the man comforting the girl.
"Yes indeed, Kamal! If you didn't know before, now you see it with your own eyes! I am indecent, and if anyone thinks they can do anything about it, let them try!"
Hearing this, the crowd dispersed, leaving the two men alone. Everyone avoided speaking to Muktar because of his notorious insolence, but Kamal was the only one who never backed down from him, and Muktar secretly feared Kamal.
"You should be thoroughly ashamed of yourself, by God. What did this little girl possibly do to deserve such a beating?"
Muktar stepped forward aggressively, as if he were about to assault Kamal. "Listen, Kamal, don't think I'm letting you off easy because I'm afraid of you—I am not! How dare you come here lecturing me over a girl who looks like the child of a lunatic? To call her a beggar (almajira) is an understatement. She just stands at my door opening her mouth about hunger. I chased her yesterday and she returned today, which is why I whipped her. If she comes back tomorrow, I'll whip her again!" With that, he didn't wait for Kamal's reply; he turned on his heel and walked back into his shop.
Realizing that Muktar had beaten her simply because she asked for food, Kamal was filled with disgust. Saying nothing more, he took the girl by the hand and led her toward his house, which was not far away. As they entered the house, his wife, Khadija, who was sweeping the courtyard, heard his greeting. She stood up, looking alternately at her husband and the dirty girl.
"Welcome back, honey. Who is this, and where is she from?" she asked, reaching out to take the girl's hand. With an agitated expression, Kamal explained everything that had happened. Khadija was a deeply virtuous woman; immediately, her heart swelled with profound pity and affection for the child. Wiping away the girl's tears, she said, "Don't cry, young lady. Wipe your tears. What is your name, and where are you from?"
She asked these two questions in succession, but the girl remained completely silent, merely following them with her eyes. Kamal repeated the questions, but still, there was no answer. They asked her at least five times, but she didn't utter so much as a grunt, only staring at them.
"Honey, I think this girl is mute. That's probably why she couldn't speak to Muktar."
"Exactly, I was thinking the same thing. Here is what we'll do: please help her bathe and give her some food to eat. I will go out and buy her a new dress and some shoes, as she is completely barefoot." Kamal said this knowing his wife would never disobey his wishes; she always did her best as long as it didn't violate God's laws.
"Alright, honey, drive safely," she replied as she stood up and he departed. Within a short time, Khadija had bathed the girl and washed her hair. The sheer amount of caked-on grime required nearly three buckets of water. A squeamish person wouldn't have managed it, as Khadija had to hold her nose against the terrible odor. Once the bath was finished, she did not put the filthy dress back on her; instead, she wrapped the girl in one of her own wrappers and served her food. The girl ate ravenously, shoveling food into her mouth as if she hadn't eaten in a year. Just as she finished, Kamal returned carrying a beautiful new dress and shoes. He handed them to Khadija, saying, "Put these on her. I need to head back to the shop. Don't let her wander outside."
Khadija agreed. Kamal looked closely at the girl and was filled with astonishment at her sheer beauty, realizing the dirt had completely masked it. Saying nothing more, he turned and left.
Khadija applied scented oil to the girl's skin and hair, then dressed her. She gathered her long hair neatly and secured it with a ribbon. Opening the shopping bag, she found it contained a lovely long dress with matching trousers and a small shawl. She dressed her, stood her up, and admired her from head to toe. Wow, Masha Allah! What a beautiful baby—she looks like a fairy/spirit. (Author's note: Nasmat chimes in, "Look at this woman, why bring up spirits here? Or are you trying to remind us of the King?")
Khadija said, "Let me put some lipstick and powder on you, would you like that?" For a moment, she forgot the girl could not speak. To her surprise, the girl nodded her head in agreement. Laughing gently, Khadija said, "Oh, so you can hear and understand me, you just can't speak?"
The girl nodded again. Overjoyed, Khadija began asking her a string of questions. She asked where her home was, but the girl indicated she didn't know. She asked about her parents, and the girl again signaled she didn't know, tears welling up in her eyes. Comforting her, Khadija said, "From today on, I am your mother, alright?" The girl nodded enthusiastically.
Khadija embraced her joyfully. She deeply loved children but had not been blessed with any yet; she had conceived twice but both ended in miscarriages. (Author's note: 😭 Oh, poor thing! May God grant children to anyone facing this struggle, my sister, may God bring relief 👏🏽).
Khadija spent the rest of the day in pure bliss, the girl following her everywhere as they quickly bonded and played games together. Around evening, Kamal returned, and Khadija shared everything, explaining that the girl could comprehend speech perfectly even though she couldn't talk. Kamal spoke to her, and she nodded responsively. Kamal asked, "Well, since she can't speak, how will we know her name?"
Khadija replied, "That's a problem, I forgot to ask her earlier. (Turning to the girl) Can you write?" The girl shook her head no. Kamal suggested, "Then let's name her Waleeda, since we've always loved that name anyway."
Khadija smiled happily, looked at the girl, and asked, "Do you agree to be called Waleeda?" The girl quickly nodded with a smile, revealing her bright white teeth.
After the Isha prayer, they ate dinner and watched a little television. By 10:00 PM, they prepared for bed, as the girl had already fallen asleep. Khadija carried her into the bedroom, placing her in the middle of the bed between them. Khadija gazed affectionately at the child, smiled, and kissed her. Kamal, too, felt an instant, deep parental love for the girl take root in his heart. Khadija placed an arm over the girl, holding her close as she drifted off to sleep.

Part 3: The Retribution of Muktar

Mmmm, so that was that... 😊
By 11:00 PM, the neighborhood fell utterly silent, devoid of human movement, save for the eerie crying of birds perched high in the mango trees. If not for the solar streetlights illuminating the alleys, even the bravest soul would hesitate to walk through these lanes.
All the shops were locked tight except for one—Muktar's. He was the only one open, habitually staying late after everyone else had dispersed to balance his accounts. He sat counting his earnings, grinning widely because it had been a highly profitable day. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of something black moving along the road, about to pass the front of his shop. He jerked his head up to look, but the road was completely empty.
He went back to counting. Not thirty seconds later, he saw something bright red, resembling a human figure, moving toward his shop. He looked up sharply a second time, but again, saw nothing. Astonished, he muttered aloud, "What on earth is this?" Putting his money aside, he stepped outside and looked hurriedly in every direction, even peering up into the overhanging trees, but there was absolute silence. Reassuring himself, he thought, It's nothing, I'm just scaring myself.
But as he turned around to step back into the shop, he came face-to-face with something that made him scream in terror and collapse to the ground in sheer panic!
It was none other than that very same little girl, standing directly on the chair he had just been sitting on. She was dressed in white, but the garments were completely drenched in blood. Her throat was violently slit, with blood spurting and gushing from the wound. Her eyes were blood red, oozing gore, and her teeth had grown into long fangs protruding from a blood-filled mouth. Yet, despite this horrific state, she was smiling, and a low, terrifying sound vibrated from her...
(Author's note: 😰 Could it be a spirit/jinn that he whipped 🙆🏻?? Let's see as the story unfolds. Don't worry, the story of Aljanar Fatima hasn't changed! Grinning face)
Muktar was completely terrified and paralyzed with fear where he had fallen. Slowly, he raised his head to confirm if what he saw was real or a mere hallucination. To his amazement, when he looked up, the space was entirely empty. He stood there trembling, trying to process this bizarre occurrence. He had operated this shop for nearly a year, often staying past midnight, and had never encountered anything supernatural until tonight. Did I just experience a demonic encounter? he asked himself.
Suddenly, a thunderous sound struck his eardrums, shattering his thoughts. From his right side came the unmistakable sound of thundering hooves, as if a herd of horses was charging directly toward him. Panicked, he spun around, trying to dive into his shop. He beheld monstrous black entities with the bodies of horses—pitch black, but entirely headless—galloping furiously toward him.
Seeing these horrific creatures, his mind fractured from sheer terror. He dove frantically into the shop at breakneck speed, leaving the doors wide open. He lunged over the long counter separating customers from the shop interior without even realizing it. Crouching in a tight corner behind the bench, he gasped for air. His entire body shook violently, and tears streamed down his face. Weeping hysterically, he muttered in a trembling whisper, "What kind of calamity is this? I am doomed tonight..." He rocked back and forth, muttering to himself for nearly twenty minutes, paralyzed in the dark, while the terrifying sound of the phantom horses raged outside.
Eventually, realizing he couldn't stay hidden forever as the stifling heat made sweat pour down his body, he crawled out and peeked toward the doorway. The road was empty, yet the deafening sounds persisted without signs of fading. Overwhelmed by the heat and weeping, he grumbled, "I am getting out of here, I won't stay to let this heat kill me for nothing. By God, I'm leaving, whatever happens, happens!"
He grabbed his shop keys, leaving his money behind. He carefully climbed back over the counter, moving like a thief, and glanced toward the direction of the noise. The moment he peeked out, the lights suddenly cut out completely, and the deafening noise vanished into total silence. This gave him the desperate courage to step out, slam the shop door shut, lock it, and sprint toward home.
He hadn't run fifteen paces when the streetlights abruptly died again, plunging everything into pitch darkness. He froze in his tracks. Like a flash of lightning, a white figure darted past him. Despite the dark, it looked distinctly human. Terror gripped him so fiercely he felt paralyzed, frozen to the spot.
After nearly ten minutes of standing frozen with his eyes shut, a sudden light pierced through, prompting him to open his eyes. The streetlights had flickered back on. Seizing the moment, he bolted down the street like a man trying to fly. As he passed under a large mango tree, a chilling burst of laughter erupted from the branches above. He glanced up mid-sprint, and the horror of what he saw caused him to trip violently over his own feet, sending him cartwheeling through the dirt.
It was that same girl, drenched in blood, throwing her head back and laughing a horrific, agonizing laugh.
Ignoring his injuries, he scrambled to his feet and ran screaming toward his house. The vengeful entity continued to manifest in terrifying forms all along his path until he reached his front gate. Bursting into his compound, he slammed the door shut, locking the jamlock.
He lunged into his bedroom where his wife, Ummeiy Zeey, lay sleeping. He leaped right over her onto the other side of the bed, pulling a heavy blanket entirely over his head despite the sweltering heat. The violent shifting of the mattress woke Ummeiy. She turned to see who it was, astonished to find her husband curled into a tight ball under a blanket, gasping raggedly. This was a man who detested heat, who usually insisted the fan be directed squarely at his side of the bed. For him to bury himself under a blanket meant something was terribly wrong.
"My lord? Husband? Father of Hawwer? Is everything alright?" She showered him with affectionate titles, rubbing his back gently to soothe him. She felt his entire body shuddering violently.
Muktar, however, was trapped in a completely different reality. He could neither perceive her touch nor hear her true voice. To his ears, a deep, monstrous voice was droning out his name in a slow, terrifying cadence: "Mu...ktar... M..u..ktar..."
Seeing his uncontrollable shaking, Ummeiy raised her voice with worry, "Father of Hawwer, what is wrong?!"
But to Muktar, that voice manifested as a thunderous, supernatural roar: "Hey Muktar, I am talking to you!"
He bolted upright, gasping. Instead of his wife Ummeiy, he saw the horrific bloody girl from earlier. She looked even more terrifying now; her long hair, instead of cascading down her back, stood rigidly straight up into the air, expanding ominously toward the ceiling. (Anyone facing this entity would feel their liver shrivel from fear; if they didn't faint outright).
Muktar burst into tears, scrambling backward across the mattress, begging for mercy until he tumbled off the edge onto the floor, where he continued to crawl away in retreat. Seeing her husband fall off the bed weeping and losing his mind, Ummeiy realized he was completely out of his wits. She climbed down from the bed and approached him slowly, asking, "Father of Hawwer, what on earth is wrong with you? Speak to me!"
To Muktar, the monstrous entity was closing in on him. He scrambled even faster on his backside, screaming: "I am doomed! My time has come! For God's sake, have mercy, don't kill me! Just because I tried to help you, is that why I am being tortured like this? JUST FOR HELPING? For God's sake, don't kill me!"
Hearing these bizarre words, Ummeiy froze in shock, looking at him in utter bewilderment. "My god, Father of Hawwer, you are truly out of your mind tonight. Are you saying I am trying to kill you? Me?"
But Muktar heard an entirely different reply. He saw the monstrous girl laughing hysterically before booming out in a dual-toned, demonic echo: "Muktar, know that you have brewed the water of your own destruction! Among all the fish you have been catching, tonight you have caught your own demise!" Suddenly, a massive, gleaming knife materialized in the girl's hand.
Muktar began to scream at the top of his lungs, shrieking: "I repent! I will never do it again! For God's sake, forgive me, I will give you anything you want! Whenever you are hungry, just come and I will feed you, even if you eat ten times a day! But please, have mercy, spare my life, don't kill me!"
Seeing her husband's hysteria escalate into bloodcurdling screams, Ummeiy considered running out to call the neighbors. Instead, she decided to make one last attempt to calm him. She stepped forward quickly and reached out to touch him. Muktar let out one final, agonizing shriek before collapsing face-first onto the floor, completely unconscious—for in his mind, the entity had just lunged forward, raising the knife to plunge it into his chest...
Let's see what happens next.
Written by the youngest of writers, King Boy.

Part 4: The Aftermath

Ummeiy was completely terrified, on the verge of screaming herself. Seeing her husband lying unconscious on the floor, she ran out of the room in a panic, tears streaming down her face. She rushed to her clay water pot (randa), which kept the water inside as freezing cold as ice. She dipped a calabash scoop into it and ran back into the bedroom.
Without a second thought, she splashed the freezing water directly onto his face. Muktar bolted upright with a violent gasp, panting heavily, eyes darting wildly around the room as if searching for a monster, while using one hand to wipe the water from his face...

2. Summary

This Hausa horror-fiction narrative follows a dramatic cycle of cruelty, compassion, and supernatural retribution in the Kado area of Abuja.

• The Sin: A mute, starving, and incredibly filthy young girl approaches a local shopkeeper named Muktar, begging for food through simple gestures. Muktar, known for his pride and cruelty, becomes enraged by her presence, violently beats her with a leather whip (dorina), and ignores her cries until neighbors intervene.
• The Rescue: A compassionate neighbor named Kamal rescues the girl and brings her home to his virtuous wife, Khadija. They gently care for her, wash away layers of intense grime to reveal an incredibly beautiful child, feed her, and affectionately name her Waleeda. They discover that while she cannot speak, she understands everything perfectly.

• The Retribution: Later that night, as Muktar stays late at his shop to count his profits, he is targeted by a terrifying supernatural entity. The little girl manifests as a bloody, demonic spirit (Aljana) with a slit throat and fangs. Muktar attempts to flee, but he is plagued by terrifying illusions—including headless phantom horses and shifting lights. When he finally reaches his home, the entity invades his bedroom, twisting his perception so that his wife appears as the demon. The story concludes with Muktar fainting in absolute horror as the spirit prepares to stab him, only to be awoken by his terrified wife splashing cold water on him.

  3. Analytics & Commentary

  Cultural and Contextual Nuances

• Setting the Atmosphere: The author heavily relies on the setting of Kado, Abuja to establish tone. By contrasting a bustling federal capital neighborhood with narrow alleys (lunguna) and a thick canopy of mango trees that block out light by 6:00 PM, the writer crafts a classic Gothic or horror atmosphere within a familiar Nigerian urban space.
• The Dorina and Cruelty: The use of the dorina (a traditional whip made of hippopotamus or cattle hide, often soaked in oil to preserve flexibility and sting) carries deep cultural weight regarding structural discipline versus outright abuse. Muktar’s boast that "cruelty is my clothing" solidifies his status as a classic villain who violates the communal obligations of charity and protection of the vulnerable.
• The Almajiri Context: Muktar dismisses the girl as something worse than an almajira (a traditional itinerant Quranic student or beggar). In contemporary Hausa society, this highlights the social stigma, vulnerability, and utter neglect faced by street children, making her supernatural turn an act of cosmic, retributive justice.

• Supernatural Elements (The Aljana): In Islamic and Hausa folklore, Aljanu (jinn/spirits) can take human forms, often appearing as helpless individuals to test the morality of humans. The reveal that the girl is tied to an Aljana (or is a spirit herself) shifts the narrative from a standard drama into a moralistic horror tale where spiritual forces violently avenge crimes against humanity.

  Literary Device and Style Analysis

• Irony of Perceived Reality: The climax relies heavily on dramatic irony and psychological horror. Muktar thinks he is screaming at a vengeful demon holding a knife, crying out "Just for helping?" (misinterpreting his wife's actual attempts to comfort him). Meanwhile, his wife Ummeiy only hears her husband screaming nonsensically, creating a tense dual narrative where the reader experiences both the real world and Muktar's terrifying, isolated hallucinations.
• Authorial Intrusions: The text features distinct parenthetical commentary from the author/editors (e.g., “Nasmat tace...”, “King Boy Isah ✍🏻”). This structural device is highly characteristic of modern digital Hausa literature (often shared via WhatsApp or blogs), where writers break the fourth wall to interact directly with their reading fan clubs, dedicated pages, and celebrate birthdays (Ummeiy Zee), creating an interactive, community-driven reading experience.