The cold hands of fear gripped my pounding heart. The icy grip was spreading fast, seizing my innards and paralyzing me. I could barely breathe for fear that I would be heard. Even the night was afraid for it was eerily quiet. The children of the night had gone into hiding because they could sense that death was around. The rustling of leaves nearby made me almost jump out of my skin. I couldn't help but wonder why I hadn't listened to my friend and postponed my trip.

The academic staff union of universities had embarked on an industrial action three days earlier and my school was affected. I had stayed the three days hoping it will be called off; but, it was not to be as they had decided it will last for two months after which deliberations might begin. I decided to go home on the third day of the action because I saw no point in waiting till morning. I packed my bags, bid farewell to my roommate, despite his appeals to postpone it and left. It was 4pm and home was five hours away. I decided not to call ahead as I wanted to surprise them.

I got to the outskirts of my village around 8pm. I walked the short distance to the park and found it strangely empty. I had travelled by night severally and knew that this was odd as motorists normally stay out till 11pm. Seeing I had nowhere else to go, I decided to walk the forty minutes to our family house which entailed me walking along the road covered on either side by heavy vegetation. Luckily, I only had one bag on me.

Fifteen minutes into my walk, I heard strange sounds ahead. I shrugged it off as my mind playing tricks on me, but, I noticed that it was too quiet which was unlike my place. Fear began to grip me. Walking forward was becoming a struggle. I forced myself to continue walking when suddenly I was yanked off my feet by a hand at my throat. Its grip was powerful, I couldn't shake it off. A guttural voice asked, " Who are you and why are you out past curfew?"

That was when I noticed that I was surrounded by barechested men who tied red wrappers around their waists and were painted with white chalk. I was unfortunate enough to have traveled home on the day of their festival. I pleaded my ignorance and apologized, but, they refused. The penalty for being out past curfew is death as I had intruded on a sacred ceremony and I had to pay for that.

I was carried to the shrine by the jubilant men. They seemed way too happy to have caught me. I was stripped of my belongings and prepared for the sacrifice. The priest made me kneel before a block on which I was to place my head for easy access to their axe. I continued pleading and crying while they tried to position my head. My appeals seemed to incense them more. I placed my head watching as the axe came down. As it struck my neck, I awakened.

Alas! I was in bed. I was drenched in sweat but alive. I felt my neck with my hands just to be sure it was really a dream. My head was in its place on my neck. I couldn't help but be grateful it was not real. Well, I don't think I'll be travelling by night any time soon.