????The Girl Who Was Buried Pregnant (Part 1)
“Some wombs never rest. Even beneath the soil.”
They buried Ifeoma at dawn.
No songs. No prayers. Only whispers.
She was seventeen. Unmarried. Pregnant. And dead.
In her village, that meant one thing—abomination.
So they didn’t bury her in the sacred grounds.
They took her to the forest side… where cursed things were hidden and forgotten.
Only her mother stayed to watch.
Clutching a torn piece of wrapper and muttering, “Forgive me, my child…”
The priest refused to bless the grave.
They sealed it with salt and ash.
They said it would stop “the thing inside” from waking.
But the forest didn’t forget.
Three days later, children playing nearby heard something.
Not crying.
Not screams.
Knocking.
From beneath the earth.
They told their parents.
The parents laughed—until the dreams started.
Men waking up with dirt in their mouths.
Women waking up bleeding, even if they weren’t with child.
One girl—just thirteen—fell into a coma.
And when she woke, she whispered:
> “She’s breathing beneath the roots…”
Then pointed to the forest.
That night, Ifeoma’s mother returned alone.
Candle in one hand.
A knife in the other.
She knelt by the grave and whispered:
> “I know what I did. But it wasn’t just mine to carry…”
Then… she began to dig.
And as the candle flickered, something wet reached from the dirt and touched her hand.
Not cold.
Warm. Alive. Moving.
Then a voice from the soil, soft as breath:
> “Mama…”
The ground split.
And from it… rose Ifeoma.
Still pregnant.
Still dead.
But awake.
— TO BE CONTINUED —
Would you face the child you buried, or run before it calls you mother again?
#TheGirlWhoWasBuriedPregnant #LadyViviansDarkWhispers #AfricanHorror.