Ngozi was pregnant… and desperate for a new beginning. After moving from place to place in search of a job, she finally arrived in a town where every midnight was filled with cries, echoing from within the walls.

She had left Ibadan behind and arrived in a place called Sanko. It seemed peaceful, quiet streets, smiling faces, kind strangers. But when night came… the story changed.

What Ngozi didn’t know was this: Sanko is a town of no return. Once you enter… you never leave.

But before she ever arrived there, Ngozi had already been through enough.

She was a brilliant accounting graduate. The firstborn in a struggling family. One year passed, then two, no job. Just hunger, rejection, and mounting pressure.

Finally, she got a shot, a top company. But the manager had a price.

That evening, she sat with her best friend, looking worried.

“Nneka… I don’t know what to do,” Ngozi said. “I need this job. My siblings depend on me. I’m like their mother and father.”

Nneka leaned closer. “So the interview didn’t go well?”

“It did… but—”

“But what?” Nneka asked.

“The manager said I should bring… three million.”

Nneka gasped. “Three million?! Then why are you job-hunting if you had that kind of money?! Some of these employers are just crazy.”

Ngozi’s voice trembled. “He said… if I can’t pay, then I should give him… my body.”

There was silence.

Then Nneka chuckled. “That’s it? Girl, that’s easy! You’ve got the job already. That company is big. Don’t miss this chance. Just do it. After all, what did sleeping with Segun get you? Nothing. Better act fast before someone else does!”

Ngozi said nothing.

That night, she made the call. She agreed. They met.

A week later, she showed up at the office, well-dressed, full of hope, expecting her employment letter… only to find a crowd of other women. All promised the same thing.

Soon, the truth came out: the manager had been fired for misconduct.

The women began murmuring.
“What about the job?”

The company replied: the vacancy had been closed long ago.

Ngozi stood there, frozen. Her lips trembled. Her eyes filled with tears.
Her dreams, crushed again.

Two months later, she felt the change in her body.

She was pregnant.

She cried for days, unsure whether to keep it. She tried to remove it… but failed. In the end, she decided to keep the child and move on.

She continued her search, until she found Sanko.

A beautiful town with a high-paying job. No long interviews. No strange requests.
She was employed immediately.

That same day, they gave her a house, a car, and even paid her salary in full even before she started the work.

She cried again.

But this time… it was from joy.

She sent almost half her earnings home and promised to support her siblings monthly.

The next morning, filled with excitement, she called Nneka.

“Nneka! You won’t believe it! I found a place…”

But the line began to break.

She tried calling again. No signal.

That was the last time they ever spoke.

And that… was just the beginning of Ngozi’s life in the crying town no one has ever escaped

From the outside, Sanko looked like paradise, a place where dreams finally came true. But by the time Ngozi had spent just one month there, her dream was quickly turning into a nightmare.

It started with the nights.

Each midnight, strange cries echoed through the town. They weren’t human… or at least they didn’t sound human. Sometimes it was a wailing, other times a baby’s scream… but it never stopped. At first, she tried to ignore it. Maybe it was just her imagination. Maybe it was animals. Or dreams.

But then… came the scratching.

From her window. From her door. From under her bed.

Ngozi barely slept. Her eyes had dark circles, and she grew weaker by the day. Each morning, when she stepped out, her neighbors smiled like everything was fine.

She knew it wasn’t.

One night, as Ngozi lay quietly on her bed, a sudden chill swept through the room. The cries had started again, faint at first, then louder, echoing from nowhere and everywhere. She pulled the blanket tighter around her.

Then… footsteps.

Slow. Heavy. Drawing closer to her door.

Her heart began to pound.

She sat up, her hands trembling.

A knock followed.

Once.

Ngozi froze.

Twice.

She looked toward the door, unsure if it was real or her mind playing tricks.

Then a voice, barely a whisper, called her name.

“Ngozi…”

Her breath caught.

The knock came again.

She wanted to scream, to ask who it was, but her lips wouldn’t move.

Instead, she fell to her knees, tears in her eyes, and whispered every prayer she could remember. Her body shook as she cried, begging God for mercy, for safety.

Then suddenly… silence.

The footsteps faded, and the cries stopped.

Ngozi stayed on the floor till morning, afraid to sleep, afraid to move. And when light finally crept through the window, she opened the door

No one was there.

But something was clear to her now: this town was not normal. And she needed to get out, even if it meant abandoning the house, the job, and everything she had been given.

But how do you leave a town… where no one ever leaves?

That same evening, just as the sun was beginning to set, she met an old man. He stood by the roadside, looking lost. She offered to help, but instead, he helped her.

“You don’t belong here,” he said, his voice low and urgent.

Ngozi froze. “What do you mean?”

“You came with hope,” the man continued, “but hope does not survive in Sanko.”

Her heart raced.

He looked around, then leaned closer. “You must listen carefully. If you want to live… you must leave. Tomorrow.”

Ngozi’s lips trembled. “How?”

He gave her strict instructions.

“When the sun rises tomorrow and stands tall in the sky… begin your journey. Walk toward the direction of the sun. Don’t greet anyone. Don’t look back. Even if you hear someone calling your name, don’t stop. Don’t eat. Don’t drink. Keep moving. When you see a bridge… cross it. That bridge is your only way out. Once you cross, you’ll be safe.”

Ngozi stared at him, unsure whether to believe.

He looked at her and said, “You must go, before they come for you.”

She looked away for a moment… and when she turned back, the old man was gone.

That night, she didn’t sleep.

She packed her bag slowly. No one must suspect anything.

At noon, the sun climbed high. She waited until it reached its peak.

Then she stepped out, heart pounding.

She walked… quietly… steadily. The streets were quiet. Too quiet.

Then she heard it:

“Ngozi!”

It sounded like her mother.

She wanted to turn back.

She remembered: Don’t look back.

She kept walking.

Next, she heard crying. A baby’s cry. A voice behind her begging for help.

Her legs trembled.

Still, she didn’t turn.

She walked for hours.

The heat was unbearable. Her throat was dry. Her stomach growled. She reached into her bag for water…

Then she remembered: Don’t eat. Don’t drink.

She closed her bag and pressed forward.

Suddenly, a group of children appeared ahead, dancing and laughing.

One of them stepped out. “Sister, come and play!”

She walked past them without a word.

Then, in the distance, she saw it.

A bridge.

Old, cracked, worn by time… but it stood there like a silent promise of freedom.

Her eyes filled with tears.

As she approached the bridge, her legs weakened. Her vision blurred.

But she didn’t stop.

With the last strength in her, she stepped onto the bridge and crossed.

As she did… the cries vanished. The wind changed. And a calm she hadn’t felt in weeks washed over her.

Ngozi collapsed on the other side, crying.

But they were not cries of fear or sadness… they were tears of survival.

She made it out.

Days later, she returned home.

Her siblings rushed out to meet her, shocked and relieved. She hugged them tightly. She was safe.

The money she had sent earlier? They had used part of it to start a small food business. With Ngozi’s return and the money she saved, they expanded the business. What began as a roadside table became a shop. And then a company.

They no longer begged. They no longer struggled. They were thriving.

And Ngozi’s baby? He was born healthy, joyful, and grew up surrounded by love and abundance.

Ngozi made sure of one thing, he lacked nothing.

She told him stories of courage, survival, and strength.

But never once… did she mention Sanko.

The town was gone.

The cries were gone.

But the lesson?

It lived on.