The Last Meal On Olarenwaju Street - by The Silent Pen 🖊

Hey guys, I haven’t really been active for a while. Apologies for that. But yeah Im back with another one. Hope you’re ready for this. Rain began at exactly 8:13 p.m.Not the normal Lagos rain that came with wind and noise and shouting conductors. This one fell quietly. Like the sky was trying not to wake something. The streets of Mushin emptied faster than usual. Shop owners dragged down rusty shutters. Danfo buses vanished from the road one after another until only puddles and flickering streetlights remained. Tunde noticed it because he was hungry. And because every food stall on the street had closed. Every single one except one. The small canteen stood at the end of Olanrewaju Street where no shop had ever lasted longer than a month. The signboard hanging above it swayed gently in the rain. MAMA RONKE’S KITCHENBut Tunde had lived in Mushin for two years. There had never been a Mama Ronke. The place looked old. Too old. The zinc roof sagged like a tired back. Smoke drifted lazily from a charcoal stove outside, carrying the thick smell of stew and burnt pepper. His stomach tightened painfully. He checked his phone. 8:13 p.m. Battery: 2%.“No be today,” he muttered. The canteen had no customers. No music.No voices.Only a yellow lantern hanging by the entrance and the sound of soup bubbling somewhere inside. Tunde hesitated before stepping closer. The smell hit him harder now.Rich jollof rice. Fried meat. Something sweet underneath it all. Something strange. An old woman emerged from the darkness behind the counter.She looked… wrong. Not ugly. Just wrong. Her wrapper was spotless white despite the muddy rain outside. Her face looked stretched too tightly over her skull, and her eyes reflected the lantern light like a cat’s. When she smiled, Tunde felt cold.“You’re hungry,” she said. It wasn’t a question. Her voice sounded dry. Like leaves scraping concrete. Tunde forced a laugh. “Aunty, how much rice?” “Sit first.”Something about the way she said it made his chest tighten. Still…Hunger won. He sat on the wooden bench near the entrance. The woman disappeared briefly into the darkness behind her, and Tunde noticed something strange immediately: There were no cooking sounds anymore.No spoons. No pots. No footsteps. Just silence. Then— KRRRKK. A sound came from beneath the floorboards. Tunde froze.The woman returned carrying a steaming plate of rice and meat.The aroma nearly drove him mad. He grabbed the spoon instantly. “Ah-ah, wait,” the woman whispered sharply. He paused.Her smile widened. “In this place… we pray before eating.” The lantern flickered. For one second, Tunde thought he saw shadows moving behind her inside the kitchen. Tall shadows.Human-shaped.Standing too still. He swallowed. “Aunty… you live here alone?”The old woman tilted her head slowly. Then she laughed. Not loudly. Not normally. A thin, crackling laugh that sounded like bones snapping underwater. “Do I look alone?”The lantern went out. Darkness swallowed the room instantly.Tunde’s breath caught in his throat. Then he heard it.Breathing. Not one person. Many.Right behind him. Wet breathing. Slow breathing. Hungry breathing. His hands trembled as he reached for his phone flashlight——and something cold touched the back of his neck. A voice whispered directly into his ear. “Don’t turn around.” Tunde stopped breathing. Then the lantern came back on. The old woman was standing exactly where she had been before. Smiling. But now… There were four extra plates on the table. And seated around them were figures. Tall. Motionless. Covered in darkness. Tunde couldn’t see their faces.But he noticed one thing immediately. Every single one of them was staring directly at him. The old woman slowly pushed his plate closer. “Eat,” she whispered. “And try not to scream when they begin.”

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