The Achuba Collector

“…  I do not ask for your mercy. I ask that you give us a fighting chance, a chance to survive, just as that Achuba gave you when he threw you into the well.” You say, stuttering on in fear.


Your surname is Achuba. You get a friend request from a Chuka Basill on facebook. As usual, you check out the requester’s profile. No profile picture… No posts… 49 friends. The creepy thing about this Chuka Basill’s profile is that his 49 friends all bear the same surname as you. The very same surname. Achuba.

You accept the friend request right after screen-grabbing the page and telling your older sister about it.

On the 1st of March 2015, he makes his first post. You read on until you have to click on the blue ‘…Continue reading’ prompt. The post is about a young boy that gets thrown in a well right after his parents were brutally murdered by someone who was called by your surname ‘Achuba’. He was barely nine years old at this time. He survived it and exactly 17 years later, he…

It is at this point that you have to click on the ‘continue reading’ prompt. The story seems very familiar to you- Like something you’ve come across in the papers. You want to know what happens to this boy seventeen years later. All the alarm bells go off in your head but your curiosity gets the better of you. You click ‘continue reading’. Then everything goes black.

You are sucked right into your phone’s screen. It’s dark and there’s nothing under your feet. You’re falling- very fast. You’re falling through space. You’re now in a tunnel, still dark, but you can feel its rough surface bruise you tender skin as you go down. Your feet hit solid ground. You stumble over and puke.

A severed head rolls to your feet. It is still fresh and spurting blood from his severed vessels. You look and realize that there are heavy chains on your hands and legs. The ground under you is moving forward. There are a few dozen other people in your front, all in a straight line and held by chains too. You watch as a large scary man slashes the head of the first on the line. His severed head rolls along and stops three people away from you. The ground under you moves forward- Closer to the large scary man.

It’s now eleven people away from your turn. You try to understand the situation. You count the severed heads on the floor and the number of people in front of you. 49. Forty Nine heads. Forty nine facebook friends of Chuka Basill. The facebook post of Chuka Basill replays in your head, the paper you read many years ago replays in your head… and a dim bulb lights up in your head. There’s some hope. You make a shabby plan.

“Chuka Basill!!” You shout. The ground stops moving and the ensuing silence is deafening.

The large scary man pauses and turns to look at you. You forget your plan. You have to say something, anything to keep him from slaughtering on.

“I know what they did to you. What happened to you… and your parents. I know what that particular Achuba did to you. You’ve killed him already… and his children…. but you still want all Achubas dead. I know. I do not ask for your mercy. I ask that you give us a fighting chance, a chance to survive, just as that Achuba gave you when he threw you into the well.” You say, stuttering on in fear.

Chuka Basill drops the curved slaughter blade. “I expected this and I prepared a fighting chance for you all” he says. He sounds like a little girl. His voice, contrasting his heavily muscular frame.

These are the rules...” He continues saying and suddenly, you are in a small room, alone. The ugliest and scariest creatures you have ever seen are in front of you. Life Gargoyles. Three of them. They look like large monstrous dogs with wings. They pant hard and thick saliva drips from their open mouth, which does little to hide their well-developed canines.

“Number One…” The girly voice continues.

Behind each of my pet is a door.”

You look above the gargoyles and notice that there is actually one door behind each of them.

Behind one of the doors lies your hope of salvation.

The other two, and you’re drowning in a well. When you decide, walk towards one of the doors and the pet guarding the door opens for you. Only when you have entered do you know if you’ve made the right choice.

You can ask each of my pets only one question and you’d get an answer. An attempt to ask any of them a second question and you’re pet-food. You have three questions max. One for each pet.

Because I’m kind, I’d tell you a secret. One of the pets always answers with the truth. The other two always answer with lies. Which of the three pets answers with the truth? You’d have to find out yourself.

Use these rules and 3 questions to make your decision. You asked for a fighting chance, here is your fighting chance. In ten minutes, the room you occupy would be full with water and you’d drown if you’re still here.

Your time starts now” Chuka Basill says, ending his homily of rules and cues. He lets out a long girlish giggle. He almost sounds like a girl being tickled. Then everywhere becomes silent.

Water starts to rise from the ground. You think of how to get the right door. You think of what questions to ask the gargoyles. Two of them would lie, one would say the truth. How the hell are you supposed to know the right door when you don’t even know which of the damn beasts is the truthful one?

This is your dilemma. The water level is at your knee now and still rising. What three questions do you ask to determine the right door?

(To be continued…)

7 thoughts on “The Achuba Collector

  1. Pingback: Top Horror Stories by Nigerian Writers in 2015. | thedarknotes


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