After Mama Titi moved out, the apartment stayed empty for three months.
Nobody wanted it. Not even the desperate ones.
Some said it was because of how quietly her daughter died in that room — no prayers, no candles, no shouting. Just silence and the faint sound of a woman crying into her mattress at 2 a.m.
Others said the landlord was hiding something. That he sealed the room not for repairs — but for rituals.
Either way, when the man in the grey cap finally moved in, we all watched with quiet curiosity. He came alone, with no family, no fan, no furniture. Just a single mattress, a gas cylinder, and three large kegs of palm wine.
Strange man.
The smell started on the second night.
At first, it was faint — like someone had lit a small fire far away. The kind of scent that reminded you of home in the village, of evenings by the fire. Comforting... but wrong for a Lagos flat with no fireplace.
Then it got stronger. And stranger.
It wasn't just firewood. It was mixed with something... older. Bitter. Almost like grief.
We complained. We knocked. We even reported it to the landlord.
But the man would only smile.
"It's just memory," he said one night from his doorstep. "Old memories always burn slow."
People began whispering. Some said he was a prophet. Others swore he was using the apartment to speak to the dead. A woman from the next block claimed she saw a small girl standing by his window — one that looked exactly like Titi.
Then one day, he vanished.
Left his mattress, his palm wine, and his door unlocked.
But the smell? It stayed.
Stronger now. Lingering. As if something had been awakened, not buried.
A week later, I walked past the apartment and saw something tucked behind the old flowerpot by the door.
A journal.
Faded. The cover was soft like cloth.
Inside were pages and pages of notes, prayers, letters. All written in a neat, careful hand.
At the back, one entry stood alone:
"If I don't cry, she won't leave me.
If I let go, she'll become a ghost.
So I'll light this fire every night — just until she finds her way back to me."
It was signed: M.T.