Tears stung her eyes as shame and fear overwhelmed her. She couldn’t explain what was happening. All she knew was that the sunglasses were cursed, dangerous, and unnatural. Without a second thought, she rushed to a roadside trash bin and flung them inside, watching them sink beneath a pile of wrappers and dirt. Her chest heaved with relief.

“I don’t ever want to see them again,” she muttered to herself, wiping the sweat from her brow. Straightening her clothes, she forced herself to keep walking. She still had an interview to attend, and she couldn’t allow this madness to ruin her only chance. Her legs trembled as she hurried through the crowd, but her mind was already made up.

Whatever those glasses were, she wanted nothing more to do with them. The interview ended better than Chinaza had expected. She answered the questions nervously, but the panel smiled at her and encouraged her as she spoke. When it was over, she stepped out of the office with relief, her heart light for the first time in weeks.

As she walked home, she whispered to herself, “Maybe this is my chance. Maybe things will finally change.” She was tired, but a little hopeful. When she reached her house, she pushed open the wooden door, humming softly to herself. But the moment she entered her room, her voice caught in her throat.

Her eyes grew wide with shock, and the bag in her hand slipped to the floor. Right there, resting neatly on her bedside table, was the pair of sunglasses she had thrown away earlier that day. Her knees felt weak. “No, no, this cannot be possible,” she muttered, pressing her back against the wall. “I threw you away. I left you in the trash on the roadside.

” Her voice cracked with fear. She rushed forward, grabbed the sunglasses, and shook them as if they would vanish from her grip, but they remained solid, cold, and heavy in her hands. Panic rose in her chest like a tide. She screamed loudly. “Amaka! Amaka!” her sister rushed in, startled. “What is it? What’s wrong?” Amaka asked, scanning the room.

Chinaza pointed with a trembling finger at the sunglasses. “Did you put these here?” Amaka frowned. No. What are you talking about? I’ve never seen them before. Are you sure nobody came into this house while I was away? Chinaza pressed, her voice sharp. Amaka shook her head firmly. No one has been here. I’ve been inside all day.

Chinaza, what is happening to you? But Chinaza had no answer. She only stared at the sunglasses, her heart beating like a drum. What have I gotten myself into? She whispered. That night, she lay on her bed, twisting and turning, unable to sleep. The room was quiet, yet her mind was loud with thoughts of the mysterious glasses.

Just as she began to drift off, she heard it, a soft whisper calling her name. Chinaza. Her eyes flew open and goosebumps covered her skin. She sat up slowly, scanning the shadows. “Who’s there?” she whispered. The voice came again, calm and gentle. Don’t be afraid. Her hands shook as she reached for the sunglasses on her table. Taking a deep breath, she slipped them onto her face.

Immediately, her vision shifted. The darkness of her room seemed to lighten, and right before her stood a young woman, beautiful and radiant, though not of this world. Her presence filled the room with a strange mixture of peace and sorrow. Chinaza gasped, clutching her blanket.

Who are you? The woman gave a sad smile. My name is Ano, she said softly. These glasses you wear are not ordinary. They allow you to see us, the restless spirits. We are bound to this world because of the way we died. We wait, hoping for someone to notice us, someone who can help us find peace. Chinaza’s lips trembled, restless spirits.

Before she could ask more, another figure appeared. This time it was a little girl, her small eyes filled with tears. She stretched out her tiny hands and pleaded, “Please help me. Please, there’s no one to help my mother.” The sight broke Chinaza’s heart. She had never felt such deep sadness in a child’s voice. “Where is your mother?” she asked, her own fear melting into concern.

“Follow me,” the girl begged. Still trembling, Chinaza stood up. Guided by something she couldn’t explain, she followed the girl outside and through the dimly lit streets until they reached a small house not far from her own. Inside, on the floor lay a woman unconscious, her lips pale, an empty bottle of pills by her side.

The little girl knelt beside her, crying. “That’s my mother. Please don’t let her die.” Chinaza’s heart raced as she rushed forward. She touched the woman’s skin. It was cold, but there was still a faint pulse. Without wasting another second, she grabbed her phone and called for help, shouting for neighbors until someone came.

Together, they rushed the woman to the nearest hospital. At the hospital, the doctors worked quickly. After some tense minutes, they announced that the woman would survive. Relief washed over Chinaza, and she turned to where the little girl had been standing. The child’s spirit now looked calm, her tears gone.

she explained in a soft voice. I had cickle cell disease. I was always in pain. My father died in an accident. And when I passed away, my mother lost the will to live. But now she will go on. She will be okay. Chinaza’s throat tightened as she watched the little girl fade slowly into the air, her face glowing with peace.

When she finally disappeared, the room felt strangely lighter, as though a heavy burden had been lifted. Chinaza stepped out of the hospital. her heart pounding with a mix of fear and awe. She looked down at the sunglasses in her hands. She now understood they were not just objects of style. They were a doorway into a world she had never believed in.