THE GIRL WHO REFUSED TO DIE

Millicent Bright Paranormal Urban

THE GIRL WHO REFUSED TO DIE1. THE GIRL WITH NO LAST NAME The rain had just ended when twelve-year-old Adanne sat outside the fading orphanage building in Umuola. Water still dripped from the rusted zinc roof, forming small puddles around her bare feet. Lightning flickered far in the sky, but the storm was already losing its voice. The other children were inside, singing their evening songs, but Adanne loved the quiet after the rain. It was the only time the world felt soft enough for a girl like her—soft enough to hold her brokenness without judging. She didn’t know her surname.She didn’t know her parents.All she had were fragments—faces she wasn’t sure were real and a lullaby she had no idea who taught her. Mama Ruth, the matron, always told her: > “Your life is not defined by what you lost, Ada. Your life will be defined by what you survive.”But Adanne didn’t believe it.Not yet. At twelve, she was already too familiar with abandonment. She had been brought to the orphanage at four, rescued from beneath a bridge where she had been left with only a wrapper and a tiny plastic spoon. Some said her mother died during childbirth. Others whispered worse things. But Adanne never bothered to ask again—some answers only created wounds. Still, she dreamed.Dreamed of school.Dreamed of having a uniform without torn sleeves.Dreamed of having a name that belonged somewhere. And often, she dreamed of leaving the orphanage, not to find her parents—but to find herself. Little did she know the world was about to meet her in a way no one could have imagined.--- 2. THE DISAPPEARANCE It happened on a hot Wednesday afternoon. The sun was merciless, the kind that made goats search for shade and children run for water. The older kids had gone to fetch firewood in the nearby bush, and Adanne, as usual, followed quietly behind them. Her best friend, Chika, held her hand as they walked. “Why you dey always hold my hand?” Adanne asked. “So I no go lose you for bush,” Chika said, laughing.“You too quiet, like breeze.” The others teased them, but Chika squeezed her hand tighter. The bush path was narrow, lined with tall grass that brushed their legs as they walked. Birds sang overhead, and insects buzzed noisily. They picked scattered sticks and chatted about school lessons they barely remembered. At some point, Adanne bent to pick a big piece of wood that had fallen beside a thick shrub. When she looked up, the others had walked far ahead, their voices growing faint. “Chika!” she called.No answer. “Wait for me!” Still nothing. She stood, dusted her palms, and hurried after them—but within seconds, the forest seemed to swallow the path. She turned left.Then right.Everything looked the same. Panic began to rise in her chest. “Chika!” she screamed again. No reply. Then suddenly… footsteps. But they weren’t running toward her. They were coming slowly.Deliberately.Purposefully. Her heartbeat quickened. “Who is there?” No answer—only the rustle of grass. She took a step back. And something… someone… stepped forward. He was a tall man, wearing a long dark cloth wrapped around his waist. His body glistened with oil, and strange white markings decorated his chest. Around his neck were charms that clinked when he moved. His eyes were cold.Empty.Hungry. “Come,” he said softly.His voice was calm—too calm. Adanne didn’t move. “I said come.” Her legs refused to obey.Fear had nailed them to the ground. Before she could run, he lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. She screamed. And the forest swallowed the sound.--- 3. INTO THE LION’S DEN The man dragged her deeper into the bush. She struggled, kicked, bit his hand, screamed again—But no one heard. He pulled her into a small clearing where a shallow pit had already been dug, surrounded by candles made with red dye. Calabashes, feathers, and bones littered the ground. The man pushed her to the ground. “Stop crying,” he hissed.“Your blood will open the way.” Adanne froze. She had heard stories—horrible stories—about ritualists kidnapping children. But she never thought it would be her. The world became blurry as panic suffocated her chest. Tears streamed down her face. “Please, sir… I did nothing…” she cried. He ignored her, picking up a small bowl filled with dark liquid. She crawled backward, but he grabbed her hair and dragged her forward. The pain was sharp, burning through her scalp. “Mmekwanu onu!” he snapped.“Be quiet!” She didn’t understand why he chose her.Why her life didn’t matter.Why death was staring at her before she even had the chance to live. The man raised a small knife. She screamed— And a loud crack echoed from the trees. Someone was approaching. The ritualist froze. The sound came again—closer this time. “Who is there?” the man barked. No response. He cursed under his breath and stuffed a dirty cloth into Adanne’s mouth,

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