Sema Jambo
The Girl Who Was Buried Pregnant (Part 2)
15th Jun, 2025 Views 36
????The Girl Who Was Buried Pregnant (Part 2)
Ifeoma stood there, dripping earth and silence, belly round, skin pale as candlewax.
Her mother stumbled back, the knife slipping from her hand.
The ground pulsed—like a heartbeat.
"Mama…" Ifeoma whispered again, voice layered, as if more than one throat was speaking through her.
"I… I buried you!" her mother cried, voice cracking with terror. "I sealed you with salt and ash!"
Ifeoma smiled.
The kind of smile that did not belong to the living—or the dead.
"You buried the body," she said. "But not the promise."
The candle blew out. Darkness swallowed everything.
Something cold and wet gripped the mother’s ankles. Roots—or fingers.
The mother screamed and tried to run, but the earth beneath her feet turned to mud, sucking her down.
"You left me to carry it alone…" Ifeoma whispered, stepping closer, dragging the soil with her like a wedding gown.
From her belly, something moved.
A shape.
A hand.
Pressing out against her stomach, as if it too wanted to be born.
The mother's mind cracked. She screamed words she didn’t even know she remembered—old prayers, ancient warnings—but the forest only echoed them back twisted.
Then Ifeoma lifted her hands—and the ground around the grave began to split open.
Other figures stirred beneath the soil.
Other girls.
Other wombs that had never rested.
Forgotten daughters.
Buried sins.
They rose, one by one, eyes hollow, mouths full of dirt—and all of them pregnant.
The mother sobbed, clawing at the ground, trying to escape.
But Ifeoma knelt beside her and pressed a muddy hand against her cheek.
"Mama… don't you want to meet your grandchild?"
A sound, wet and gurgling, tore the night—the sound of something crowning.
Ifeoma's stomach split, not with blood, but with vines, thorns, and something pale and screaming.
Something born of death.
She lifted the thing in her arms. It looked like a baby.
Until it opened its mouth and inside were no teeth—only worms.
The mother shrieked.
But the other girls closed in, humming a song no living person should ever hear.
They would not let her go.
The forest had remembered.
The debt had come due.
And as the mother was dragged into the open grave, wrapped in roots and sorrow, her last sight was Ifeoma handing the newborn thing to the darkness…
And the darkness cradling it back.
— TO BE CONTINUED —
If the children of the forgotten called your name… would you answer before they buried you too?
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