MY UNCLE KNEW SOMETHING I DIDN’T- NOW I UNDERSTAND WHY HE BEGGED ME NOT TO TRAVEL… ANONYMOUS WOMAN SHARES

I never believed in the warnings my elders gave about certain roads the kind of warnings that are supposed to scare you into staying home after dark. I thought it was just superstition, old people exaggerating to make sure young ones don’t wander. But I learned the truth the hard way.

It happened two years ago, after a family event in a small town outside Ibadan. The celebration ended later than expected, and by the time I was ready to leave, it was past 9 PM. My uncle gave me that look the one he always gives when he’s about to say something serious, but polite.

“Don’t go tonight,” he said. “That road… it’s not safe. Stay here.”

I laughed. I told him I’d be fine. After all, it was just a short ride on a bike. He shook his head and didn’t argue. He just left it at that, and I didn’t think any more about it.

The road was quiet, darker than I had expected. My bike man was nervous, constantly glancing over his shoulder. I thought he was just jumpy, but then the bike sputtered and died in the middle of the road. He claimed it wasn’t fuel but I knew it shouldn’t have stopped.

As we stood there, a strange dragging sound came from the bush along the road. It was slow and deliberate not like an animal, not like anything normal.

Then I saw them. Three figures emerged from the darkness, moving slowly. Their clothes were torn. Their skin looked gray, almost lifeless. And their eyes… their eyes were empty. They didn’t look at us, yet I felt their presence pierce through me.

All three were chained together at the ankles.

I froze. My heart was pounding. We didn’t move, didn’t breathe, just watched as they shuffled across the road, dragging their chains. They disappeared into the bush on the other side, leaving only the echo of the metal against the ground.

The bike man bolted. I ran after him, terrified. We only stopped when we reached a lit area. I told my uncle what happened the next morning. He stayed quiet for a long time before finally saying:

“That road… I’ve seen what lives there. That’s why I begged you not to go.”

I didn’t ask for details, and he didn’t offer them. Some things, he said, were better left unexplained.

To this day, I never travel that road after dark. I haven’t forgotten what I saw. And I now understand why my uncle’s warning wasn’t just superstition it was a real protection, one I nearly ignored at my own peril.