Madam Koi Koi of Akanu Ibiam Girl's House

Madam Koi Koi of Akanu Ibiam Girls' House

From the moment I arrived at Akanu Ibiam Girls' House at the age of eleven, I felt an eerie sense of foreboding. The grand gates of the prestigious boarding school closed behind me, sealing my fate. That night, as I lay on the stiff mattress in the dimly lit dormitory, sleep came reluctantly, bringing with it the first of many unsettling dreams.

In the dream, I found myself in an endless hallway, shrouded in darkness. A soft, rhythmic sound echoed in the distance—koi, koi, koi. It was the unmistakable sound of high-heeled shoes tapping on the floor. My heart raced as a lilting, haunting voice began to sing:

My child, my chosen one,

Come to me, the night has begun.

Follow the sound, heed my call,

For you are the one, the one after all.

The voice was both beautiful and terrifying, calling me, beckoning me to follow. Each night, the dream replayed, and each night I felt an inexplicable pull toward the voice. I woke up drenched in sweat, my heart pounding, unable to shake the terror that clung to me.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. The recurring dream began to take its toll. I grew paranoid, sleep-deprived, and accustomed to the nightly visits from the disembodied voice. Yet, the fear never lessened. I dared not tell anyone. The last thing I wanted was to be branded as possessed or a mermaid, or worse, to have my sanity questioned.

The story of Madam Koi Koi was whispered among the girls, a legend passed down through generations. Madam Koi Koi was said to be the spirit of a woman who tormented students at night, her presence heralded by the sound of her shoes echoing through the halls. The older girls told the tale with a mixture of fear and excitement, but to me, it was all too real.

I begged my mother to take me out of the school. "It's the best school in the region," she insisted. "No other school compares." I could see the pride in her eyes, and I couldn't bear to disappoint her. So, I grinned and bore it, living in silent terror.

By the time I was fifteen, the nightly dreams had become a part of my life. I grew used to the voice, no longer keeping me awake, though it still filled me with dread. But one night, the dream changed. The familiar song of worship became a chilling threat:

You will be replaced if you defy,

In the darkness, you must comply.

Come to reign or face your fate,

Your time is now, do not be late.

If you get replaced, you will be replaced,

They will be replaced, in shadow’s chase.

The power’s choice, the throne’s embrace,

You must accept, or lose your place.

If you resist, the night will find,

The spirits lost, their wrath unkind.

So heed the call, take up the trace,

Or if you get replaced, you will be replaced.

The menace in the song was unmistakable. Fear gripped me like never before. I knew I had to confront the spirit or risk an unknown fate. Desperate for answers, I researched ways to communicate with spirits in dreams. I discovered an old tradition: making a dream sign with ash on the forehead before bed to give the dreamer a voice in their dreams.

That night, I gathered ash from the hearth and marked my forehead. As I fell asleep, the familiar dreamscape of the endless hallway appeared. The koi, koi, koi sound echoed louder, and the voice returned, now more insistent. But this time, I felt different—I felt powerful.

"Who are you?" I called out, my voice echoing through the dark corridor. The tapping stopped abruptly. The air grew cold, and the darkness seemed to thicken.

Then she appeared. A woman, or rather, the ghost of a woman. Her appearance was ghastly: her clothes tattered, her face battered and bruised, her eyes hollow and sorrowful. Yet, on her feet were perfect, pristine high-heeled shoes. Around her were other women, equally disheveled, some naked, some missing teeth or patches of hair, but all wearing those same shoes.

"We are the forsaken," the ghostly woman spoke, her voice a sorrowful melody. "Women who met untimely deaths, victims of cruelty and injustice. We have chosen you."

"Why me?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Because you have the spirit to find us justice," she replied. "You are the one, destined to carry our power and avenge our deaths. Accept our gift, and we will grant you wealth, beauty, and wisdom."

I stood frozen, trying to comprehend the gravity of her words. The spirits had chosen me for a reason. Their promise was tempting, yet the weight of their expectations was overwhelming.

"What if I refuse?" I asked, though I feared the answer.

"If you refuse, you will be replaced," she said, her voice growing cold. "If you get replaced, you will be replaced, they will be replaced. The cycle will continue until another is chosen. Accept your destiny, or face the consequences."

I woke with a start, the words echoing in my mind. For the first time since I was eleven, I felt a strange peace settle over me. The dreams had been trying to tell me something all along. I was the one. Was I not already...

The final question lingered in my mind as I pondered my next steps. The spirits had given me a choice, and the weight of that choice pressed heavily on my shoulders. Could I accept their power and the responsibility that came with it? Or would I refuse and risk the wrath of the forsaken?

As the sun rose, casting a warm glow over the dormitory, I knew my life would never be the same. The dreams had become my reality, and I had to decide whether to embrace my destiny or face the unknown consequences. The answer lay within me, waiting to be discovered.

I was the one. Was I not already chosen?

The day stretched out before me, filled with uncertainty and the weight of destiny. But for the first time in years, I felt a sense of purpose. The forsaken spirits had placed their trust in me, and for now, I shall stop existing and start living but living for what?, living for who? living until when?