Ọnụọgụgụ ụda

‎It became worse. If Amora was sick and saw a pregnant woman passing by, she would fix her eyes directly on the woman’s stomach. Long. Still. Silent. The pregnant woman would feel a strange chill. That night pain would begin. By morning — miscarriage. The unborn child gone. And Amora? Standing outside her house, alive and strong again. That was when fear entered every home in Idu-Ora.