text: The sun was high in the sky, shining brightly, the heat unbearable and most people staying in the cool shelter of their house, the lack of people venturing out on the streets benefited the neighborhood kids playing football in the streets. Playing bare-chested, shirts scattered on the ground. Smiles were plastered on their faces as they ran after the ball. They were ten in total, five on each team. Two rocks were placed on each side of the dirt road as a makeshift goal post and various plastic bags bundled together using a rope served as a ball. "Give me the ball, I'm alone," said Keza, the only girl playing. The boys only caved in and let her join because Shema had refused to play if they didn't. He was the best player in the group, and they needed him to win. Glancing at Keza and confirming her place, Shema passed the ball to her. Keza intercepted the ball and dashed towards the opposing team goal, as she was about to shoot, one of the boys on the opposing team tackled her causing her to lose balance and shoot the ball in another direction than intended. Shattering a window with a loud crack, the ball disappeared inside a house. The game halted and the boys all gathered around Keza, watching the broken window. "You go and take it back," one boy said pushing her by the shoulder. "It's not my fault, if he hadn't tackled me it wouldn't have happened, he should be the one going there," Keza replied pointing at the said boy. "In football, it's okay to tackle someone if you didn't know," the same boy replied shaking his head, "we should have never let a girl play with us." Shema stepped in between the two kids, placing a hand over their bare chests, separating them. "Don't fight, Keza and I will retrieve the ball and after we'll continue the game, okay." He said looking at the two kids alternately. "But-" Shema silenced Keza's retort, "No buts, we will get that ball," he said, taking her arm and dragging her towards the house. Keza pressed her lips together into a thin line, she didn't want to go get the ball, what the boy said infuriated her but that was not the only reason. The ball flew straight into Mr. Ngabo’s house. Mr. Ngabo was a tall, muscular man with scars covering most of his face and skin as dark as the night. Keza glanced at Shema and wondered how he managed to keep calm, his house was similar to every other house in their neighborhood except for one thing; various animal skulls adorned the front porch. Just looking at it made the hair on Keza's arm stand at attention, to her it felt as though the skulls were staring at her. She couldn't help but think about all the stories her mother told her at night if she didn't want to go to sleep. *If Mr. Ngabo releases his spirits and they find you awake, they'll take you away.* It was probably a way for the adults to keep the children in line but she always had a bad feeling whenever she saw Mr. Ngabo. This led her to believe that maybe, just maybe there was some truth to the stories. "You know we can also search for other plastic bags and make another ball," she said, rocking from side to side. Shema smirked at her, "You're scared." "N-no," "Don't tell me you also believe all the stories about Mr. Ngabo, they're stories invented by the adults to scare us," "I-I know, I'm not scared," staring at the house in front of her, "l-let's go." With each step they took, the thought that it was a bad idea reinforced itself in her mind, it wasn't worth risking their lives, Shema knocked on the door expecting someone to open the door, instead, the door opened itself slowly making a creaking sound. The two kids looked at each other not sure what to do. "Hello, Mr. Ngabo. My name is Shema and I'm here with my friend Keza, we're here to take the ball that crashed in the house. We're sorry for that." Silence greeted them and Shema advanced only to be stopped by Keza's hand. "Where are you going? We should go back, he's not here and I don't think he'll be happy to find us in his house." "Then better hurry and get the ball before he returns," Shema shrugged off Keza's hand and made his way through the house. Eyeing Mr. Ngabo's front porch decorations warily, Keza followed Shema inside, the living room held little furniture save for a wooden table and a chair, there was a little kitchen on their left but nothing else. Finding the ball proved difficult, the house was dimly lit making it hard for the kids to see anything. "See, there is nothing here. We should go back before Mr. Ngabo comes back," Keza said, tugging at Shema's arm. "Wait! It's somewhere in the kitchen, the window we broke is there," he replied going there. Keza waited for a while and released a sigh of relief when she saw Shema return with the ball in hand. She was about to open the door and leave when Shema stopped her. "Don't you want to look around?" "No," she replied shaking her head vehemently, "let's leave!" Either he didn't hear or he chose to ignore her as he made his way deeper into the house. Keza had the urge to cry after seeing that. "Look, there's a basement," Shema cried out, she went to join him. Shema held open the door, a staircase could be seen leading downstairs. Dragging her feet, Keza followed Shema downstairs, each step creaking. Keza's heart was beating against her rib cage threatening to explode. The basement was dark, dusty and full of card boxes scattered across the room. The only light came from a small light bulb they had turned on. "What's this for?" Keza asked for opening one card box, it contained kitchen utensils. They opened other boxes and the result was the same, each one filled with various metal objects ranging from kitchen utensils to car spare parts. A creaking sound made them halt in their movements, the door opened and there in the doorway stood Mr. Ngabo, Keza didn't have the time to think when Shema pulled her to a couple of boxes nearby and hid behind them, listening to Mr. Ngabo’s heavy footsteps as he descended the stairs. Following Mr. Ngabo's every movement dutifully, Keza held her breath; they shouldn't have come here in the first place, being in the same room with that man wasn't what she wanted and the oppressive heat made it worse. The sound of something hitting the floor took Keza out of her reverie, making her blood run cold. Turning her head in Shema's direction, she saw a startled expression on his face; he had accidentally kicked a can causing the sound as it made contact with the floor, the sound was deafening in the eerie silence that had reigned in the room since Mr. Ngabo had made his appearance. "Who's there?" Mr. Ngabo gruff voice inquired. Keza heard his footsteps approaching the card boxes where they hid and glanced at Shema, fear clear in her eyes. As Mr. Ngabo reached for the can laying lazily on the floor, Shema took hold of Keza's hand and darted out of their hiding spot. The fast movement startled Mr. Ngabo, stunning him for a short while. "You brats! Come back here," he yelled outgoing after them. Looking behind her and seeing the look of fury etched on his face, Keza confirmed that all the stories she heard were true, he looked terrifying and she was sure he would be the subject of her soon to be nightmares. Staring at the man for a second too long and not paying attention in front of her, Keza stumbled and Shema's grip loosened. Mr. Ngabo took hold of her leg, taking advantage of Keza's bad luck. "Gotcha," he said, pulling her towards him with a large maniacal grin on his face. Her scream alerted Shema who hadn't remarked that he had let go of Keza. Mr. Ngabo had his arm across Keza's stomach in a tight grip and Keza was struggling to escape. "Let me go," she yelled. "First, I'm gonna show you how I treat little bastards like you trying to snoop into my things." Hearing that, Keza broke down and started crying, her mind going over all the horrible things she'll be subject to. Without thinking, Shema lunged at Mr. Ngabo causing him to lose balance. "Fucking bra-" he didn't finish his sentence as he fell on his back, his head colliding with the floor, falling unconscious. Without further ado, Shema helped Keza to her feet and together they dashed out of the house. Ignoring the other boys who had waited for them, the ball was forgotten, they continued running only stopping when they reached Shema's house, taking deep breaths, exhausted from the intense physical activity. "Keza, your arm," Shema gasped after they had both regained their senses. Looking at her arm, she found a deep gash, Shema stepped closer staring with wide eyes. What surprised her wasn't the injury or the lack of pain and blood, not all that seemed insignificant to her as she gawked at the wound. It was a deep cut, she had probably injured herself during the fall in the arms of Mr. Ngabo, but she had expected to see muscles or bones, not wires.