— Things People Don't See
Izunna woke before his alarm rang.
The dream clung to him like smoke. For a few seconds he lay still on his bed, staring at the cracked ceiling of their small room in Mushin, listening to the familiar morning sounds outside—generators humming, a neighbor shouting for someone to fetch water, the distant honk of danfo buses already filling the roads.
His heart had settled, but the memory of the demon's laughter refused to leave.
He pressed a hand against his chest.
Nothing.
Just his heartbeat.
"Just a dream," he muttered under his breath.
From the other room his mother called, "Izunna! If you're not up, you'll miss your train!"
"I'm up!"
He pushed himself out of bed, shaking the last of the dream away. The routine helped. Washing his face. Pulling on his school uniform. Buttoning the shirt carefully. His mother handed him a small wrapped breakfast as he passed through the room.
"Eat on the way," she said. "And don't come back telling me the train delayed you again."
He nodded, slipping his bag over his shoulder. "I won't."
Outside, Mushin was already alive.
Vendors shouted prices. Motorcycles squeezed through tight spaces. The air carried the smell of frying akara and diesel fumes. It was the kind of chaos that made Lagos feel normal.
Normal felt good.
By the time Izunna reached the train station, the crowd had thickened. Office workers, students, traders—everyone trying to move faster than the next person.
The train arrived with a long metallic screech.
Inside, people packed together tightly. Izunna found a place to stand near the middle of the carriage as the train jerked forward toward Oshodi.
He leaned against the metal pole, chewing slowly on the bread his mother had given him.
That was when he saw it.
At first he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.
A small creature clung to a woman's shoulder a few feet away.
It was about the size of a handbag, thin and twisted, its limbs too long for its tiny body. Its skin looked gray and stretched tight over bone. Its mouth hung open, showing crooked teeth like broken needles.
It was chewing on something.
No.
Not chewing.
Whispering.
Its head leaned close to the woman's ear as if feeding her thoughts.
The woman stared at her phone, completely unaware.
Izunna blinked.
The creature was still there.
His stomach tightened.
He slowly looked around the train.
And then he saw them.
More.
One crouched on a businessman's back, its claws dug into his suit jacket. Another hung from the ceiling rail, whispering into the ear of a sleeping passenger. One sat on the floor gnawing lazily at a student's shoelace while the boy scrolled through his phone.
There were dozens of them.
Maybe more.
No one reacted.
No one noticed.
His breathing slowed as the realization crept in.
Only he could see them.
One of the creatures suddenly turned its head toward him.
Its eyes widened.
It hissed softly.
Before Izunna could react—
"Nwụọ."
The word cut through the air like a blade.
One of the creatures exploded into dust instantly.
Several others shrieked and scattered across the carriage ceiling.
People flinched at the sound but quickly returned to their phones, assuming it was just someone talking loudly.
Izunna turned.
A boy about his age stood near the train door.
Tall. Lean. Calm.
Chidubem.
His eyes were half-lidded, almost bored, as if killing the creature had required no effort at all.
The remaining small demons fled deeper into the carriage, scrambling across seats and disappearing behind people's backs.
Chidubem stepped forward slowly.
The moment his eyes met Izunna's, something changed.
His pupils vanished.
What remained were hollow, empty whites.
The sight sent a cold chill down Izunna's spine.
Chidubem studied him for a moment.
Then a slow smile spread across his face.
"So," he said quietly.
His voice carried amusement.
"This is where you've been going to hide yourself all these years."
The train rattled loudly as it sped toward Oshodi.
And for the first time that morning—
Izunna felt like the dream had followed him into the waking world.