People say honesty is the best policy.
Personally, I think honesty is expensive.
Honesty gets you into trouble.
Honesty starts difficult conversations.
Honesty forces you to explain things.
Lies, on the other hand, are efficient.
Elegant.
Convenient.
Like shortcuts.
At least that’s what I believed until last Thursday.
Now I’m not so sure.
The funny thing is that I’ve never considered myself a liar.
Not really.
Liars are politicians.
Scammers.
People who sell miracle cures on television.
I’m just… flexible with the truth.
There’s a difference.
Or at least there was.
My name is Tosin. I am twenty years old. A university student. A reasonably decent human being. And clearly the latest victim of what I can only describe as supernatural disciplinary action.
The day started badly. Which should have been my first warning.
My alarm rang at seven.
I woke up at nine.
By the time I jumped out of bed, my first lecture had already started.
Wonderful.
Exactly the kind of responsible academic behavior my parents were financing.
I showered in record time.
Threw on clothes.
Grabbed my backpack.
And sprinted out of my hostel like a man fleeing a crime scene.
Technically, I was.
The crime was academic negligence.
By the time I reached campus, I was sweaty, exhausted, and thirty-five minutes late. My friend Ifeoma was waiting outside the lecture hall. Arms crossed. Expression judgmental. The way she always looks when she’s right about something. Which is annoyingly often.
“Tosin.”
The tone alone told me I was about to be interrogated.
“You’re late.”
I nodded.
An obvious fact.
Difficult to argue against.
“Why?”
Now.
At this point, I had options.
I could have told the truth.
The truth was simple. The truth was that I overslept. The truth was that I stayed awake until three in the morning watching videos about conspiracy theories and football highlights.
The truth was embarrassing. So naturally, I chose something else.
“Traffic.”
The lie left my mouth effortlessly.
Smooth.
Practiced.
Professional.
The kind of lie that has successfully served millions of Nigerians for decades.
Traffic is the national alibi.
Late to work?
Traffic.
Late to church?
Traffic.
Late to your own wedding?
Traffic.
Nobody questions traffic.
At least nobody used to.
The moment the word left my mouth, something strange happened. A cold sensation brushed against my neck. Not wind. Not a breeze. Something else.
I frowned.
Turned around.
And froze.
There was something standing behind Ifeoma. At first, I thought it was a child. Then I looked closer. And immediately wished I hadn’t.
It was small. Far too small. Its arms were too long. Its fingers too thin. Its eyes were enormous. Large black eyes that seemed to consume light instead of reflecting it. The thing grinned.
A terrible grin. The sort of grin that belongs in nightmares and customer service departments. Then it tilted its head. Looked directly at me. And whispered.
“Traffic.”
I screamed.
Loudly.
Very loudly.
The sort of scream that instantly destroys a man’s reputation.
Everyone turned.
Students.
Lecturers.
Security personnel.
Everybody.
The creature continued smiling.
Ifeoma blinked.
“Tosin?”
I pointed.
“That!”
“What?”
“THAT!”
“What are you talking about?”
The creature giggled. Actually giggled. Then climbed onto Ifeoma’s shoulder. She didn’t react. Didn’t notice.
I stared. The creature stared back. Then it repeated the lie.
“Traffic.”
Another giggle.
Then it vanished.
Gone.
Completely.
I stood there breathing heavily.
Sweating.
Confused.
Meanwhile, everybody around me had reached the obvious conclusion.
Tosin had finally lost his mind.
The rest of the day was deeply unpleasant. Mostly because I couldn’t stop thinking about what I had seen. Every logical explanation felt ridiculous.
Stress?
Maybe.
Sleep deprivation?
Possible.
Hallucination?
Concerning.
Yet somehow none of them felt correct.
By evening, I had almost convinced myself it never happened. Then I called my mother. The conversation lasted less than two minutes.
“Have you eaten?”
“Yes.”
Lie.
I hadn’t.
Immediately, something appeared on top of my wardrobe. I nearly dropped the phone.
A second creature. Different from the first. Larger. Thinner. With a neck that bent at impossible angles. It smiled. And whispered.
“Yes.”
I hung up.
The creature vanished.
I stood frozen.
My heart pounding.
My mind racing.
No.
No.
No.
This couldn’t be happening. There had to be another explanation. There had to be. Then my phone buzzed. A message from Ifeoma. One sentence. Three words.
“Are you okay?”
I stared at the screen.
Then typed a reply.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
The moment I pressed send, something laughed from inside my room. And this time, it wasn’t small. For several seconds, I sat completely still.
Listening.
Waiting.
The laughter came again.
Deeper now.
Older.
Hungrier.
From somewhere in the darkness behind me.
Slowly, very slowly, I turned around.And for the first time that day, I became genuinely afraid. Because whatever was standing in my room was far larger than the others. And somehow, I knew exactly why it had come.
I had just told another lie.