Season 2, Episode 5: The Pot That Sees All"

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"The Pot That Sees All"


The storm thickens as darkness clutches tighter around the home of Obiora.


Chukwuamaka paced nervously in the dimly lit living room. Her thoughts galloped wildly as the image of Aunty Amina hovered like a threat in her mind. The old woman had grown too suspicious; her sharp gaze, her rituals, her protective instinct. Chukwuamaka knew that if Aunty Amina wasn't stopped, the shame she’d bring would ruin everything.

She picked up her phone with trembling hands and dialed Ada.

Chukwua
maka (in pidgin):

“Ada… e be like say Amina wan spoil everything. I no fit wait make she open mouth. You sabi another baba wey go help us finish this matter sharp-sharp?”


Ada, already caught in the web of their dark path, responded without hesitation.


“There’s someone. Powerful. Na for my mama village. Dem call am Nana I Don’t Deny Anyone. If anybody fit handle this thing… na him.”


The next morning, under the pretense of visiting her family and informing them of Obiora’s illness, Chukwuamaka boarded a bus to the village, her face veiled in worry, but her heart fixated on one goal: silence Aunty Amina permanently.


Meanwhile…

Aunty Amina noticed Chukwuamaka’s sudden departure with unease. She chose not to question it, focusing instead on nurturing her nephew Obiora, whose strength still flickered like a candle in a storm. She began preparing fresh herbs, sensing that a new battle was looming, but unaware how deeply Chukwuamaka had plunged into the spiritual abyss.


Back in the Village, the dusty path to the shrine was thick with tension. Chukwuamaka and Ada trudged through, carrying baskets of the requested items, red kola nuts, three different animal hairs, charcoal-black soap, a clay pot, and a string of bones wrapped in red thread.


The shrine of "Nana I Don’t Deny Anyone" stood like a haunted fortress in the woods, surrounded by skulls, totems, and chimes that rang without wind.


Inside, the air was thick with smoke and incantations. Nana’s voice was thunderous yet soothing, his body swaying as he chanted. He placed the clay pot before them. Suddenly, the pot began to boil violently, yet there was no fire.


Then it happened.


A ghostly image began to form inside the bubbling surface, Aunty Amina seated in the Obiora household, humming a Yoruba dirge, unaware of what was unfolding.


Nana’s voice echoed, low and commanding:

“Speak now. The pot listens.”


Chukwuamaka's eyes locked with the ghostly image of Aunty Amina. Hatred flared in her pupils.


“I want her blind… and dumb. Let her never see the truth. Let her voice never speak my name again.”


Nana stopped. The chanting ceased. A drumbeat began without a drummer. The trees around the shrine rustled as if stirred by unseen hands. Nana danced, laughed, then froze mid-motion.


He pointed a skeletal finger at Chukwuamaka.


Nana (in a different voice):

“My daughter, it is done… But...”


A long silence followed. The air stood still. Chukwuamaka’s chest tightened.


“But the pot that grants vengeance also collects debt. You have called blindness into another’s eyes… you must see through hers now. You have silenced a voice… yours shall echo in the dark.”


As Chukwuamaka stepped away from the pot, her legs buckled slightly. Ada grabbed her. Her eyes widened as the ghostly image of Aunty Amina began to weep inside the pot.

“What have we done?” Ada whispered.

Outside the shrine, thunder cracked, yet no rain fell. In that moment, fate tilted further into chaos.


TO BE CONTINUED...

Story by Kobby Talesnovella

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