RUN MAD AND GET RICH
Episode 13: The Dead Don’t Sleep

The village tried to forget.

Tried to move on.

Tried to erase the memory of the boy who went mad, became a god, and died to save them all.
But the ground would not forget.
The mango tree above Ebuka’s grave never bore fruit again.
At night, children whispered of voices beneath the soil.
Dogs barked at nothing.
And every sixth night, red mist crept from the base of the grave and drifted through the village like smoke from a cursed fire.

Mama Ebuka stopped speaking.

She just sat on her wooden chair, staring at the tree, her lips always moving—but making no sound.
Sometimes she would place food near the grave.
Not on top of it.

Next to it.

Like she knew someone—or something—was waiting just beneath.
One day, she placed a palm leaf on the soil and said only three words:
> “I hear you.”
In Lagos, strange things began to happen.
A wealthy businessman slit his throat during a board meeting, screaming “Ebuka has returned!”
A mad woman in Ojuelegba shouted “He walks! He walks!” before throwing herself into traffic.
And then, in the heart of a church vigil… the candles all turned black.

The choir stopped singing.

And one voice—Ebuka’s voice—came from the altar:
> “They buried me… but I wasn’t alone down there.”
Back in the village, the priestess Nwunye Ọnwụ called Mama Ebuka.

> “You did not kill your son,” she said.
“You opened the gate between this world… and something older.”
Mama Ebuka’s hands trembled.
> “What do you mean?”
The priestess held up a mirror—but it did not show their reflection.

It showed Ebuka, alive, walking through a forest of bones, his face calm, his footsteps careful.

He wasn’t in hell.

He wasn’t in heaven.

He was in Ọgbanwe Ala—the land of forgotten spirits.
And someone… something… was guiding him.
The voice returned in Mama Ebuka’s dreams:
> “Mama… I’m coming home.”
But it wasn’t a threat.
It wasn’t even a warning.

It was a promise.

And when she woke up, her door was already open.
The wind carried his scent—burnt palm oil and rain.
And outside, standing beneath the lifeless mango tree, was Ebuka.

Same face. Same voice.

But no shadow.

No heartbeat.
Just eyes that remembered everything.
And behind him, in the forest…
Hundreds of spirits followed silently.
Some were laughing.
Some were crying.
Some were still mad.
> “You see, Mama,” he whispered, smiling.
> “You didn’t just kill me…
You set me free.”

To be continued…