CHAPTER ONE: DREAMS

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Ada stood in a compound encircled by a strong mud wall, the rich earth tones blending harmoniously with the landscape. Inside, several traditional round thatched-roof huts, known as rondavels, were scattered across the compound.

Their walls were painted with simple patterns in earthy reds, yellows, and greens, each symbol telling a story of the community's heritage.

He looked at the lush greenery surrounding the huts, with banana trees swaying gently in the warm breeze.

Vibrant flowers like hibiscus and bougainvillea added splashes of color, their petals fluttering softly in the wind.

Chickens roamed freely, pecking at the ground, their clucks filling the air with a comforting familiarity.

In the distance, rolling hills faded into the horizon, painted in shades of green and gold. The sun began to dip low, casting a warm, golden glow over the compound, creating an atmosphere of peace and community.

This was a place where tradition and daily life intertwined, reflecting the rich culture and resilience of its people.

Yet for Ada, this was the place where his nightmares always began. He stood waiting for the chase from the daredevil faceless monster that had come to plague his innocence since he was four years old.

The nightmares began as a mere joke, a childish fear sparked by overhearing his mother discussing with neighbors how their surroundings were all graveyards and how his hut sat atop the grave of the former caretaker of the land.

The caretaker's children had sold the land to Ada's family, and now, that history haunted him like an uninvited guest.

With his heart pounding in his chest, Ada stared into the distance, where the shadows of the hills loomed ominously as the sun sank lower in the sky.

The beauty around him blurred into an unsettling backdrop, and the serene laughter of children playing outside faded into an echoing silence.

The sounds morphed into cruel taunts that danced in the air, taunting him with his fears.

As he gazed out toward the horizon, the familiar hills transformed into a menacing shape, their curves shifting into a labyrinth that seemed to mock his innocence.

The laughter of the chickens now sounded like sinister cackles, as if they too were aware of the impending darkness that would soon consume him.

The vibrant flowers appeared dull and lifeless, wilting under the weight of his dread.

Suddenly, the air shifted, heavy and charged with an unsettling energy. The first sign of his pursuer was a chilling breeze that whispered through the banana trees, rustling the leaves in a shivering symphony.

The tranquility of the compound was swallowed by an ominous silence, punctuated only by his own quickened breath.

There it was, lurking at the edge of his vision the faceless monster. It hovered in the shadows, cloaked in darkness, its presence an ever-looming threat that haunted his dreams.

Its movements were swift and erratic, a blur of dark energy that made his skin prickle. In that instant, the landscape transformed from a sanctuary into a battleground.

"Run!" a voice in his mind screamed, but his feet felt glued to the earth. The memories of the stories spun by adults swirled around him, heavy with dread.

What had once been a vibrant landscape filled with life was now a stark reminder of his vulnerability.

The creature darted forward, its form indistinct yet terrifying, its intent crystal clear. Adrenaline surged through Ada's veins, and with a burst of instinct, he turned on his heels.

He sprinted toward the safety of the rondavels, the familiar pathways of the compound now an escape route.

Behind him, he could feel the monster drawing closer, a darkness that threatened to engulf him whole.

With every stride, he focused on the patterns on the walls of the huts—each symbol a reminder of the strength and resilience of his ancestors, a shield against the shadows that sought to consume him.

But just as he reached the door of his home, the ground trembled beneath him, echoing the heartbeat of the land.

He paused, glancing back over his shoulder. The monster halted at the boundary, as if held back by an invisible force.

It let out a low growl that reverberated through the compound, chilling Ada to his core.

In that moment, he understood: this was not just a nightmare. It was a reflection of his fear, a manifestation of the stories that had seeped into his soul.

And just like the rondavels that had stood strong through the storms of time, he too could stand against the darkness.

With renewed courage, Ada took a deep breath, ready to face whatever awaited him. The compound was alive with the spirit of his people, and he would not let fear dictate his fate.