On that full moon night, the moonlight spread across the city like silver dust. I remember it as if it were yesterday. And sometimes, I wonder if, had I made a different choice that night, I wouldn't be where I am now… or maybe I wouldn't even be here at all.
I had just landed at Bamako-Sénou International Airport. It was exactly two in the morning. The air was heavy, thick with dust and memories I would have rather left behind. After several years in the United States, I was back in my homeland for the one reason no one ever wishes for: my parents' funeral.
Outside the airport, I hailed a taxi. An old yellow Toyota, battered but still running. I got into the back seat, placed my suitcase at my feet, and leaned against the seat, exhausted.
The taxi driver said:
"Where to, sir?"
"Hamdallaye, please,"
I replied quietly.
He nodded and started driving. The road was almost empty. Only a few flickering streetlights cast long shadows over the asphalt.
The driver seemed talkative.
The taxi driver said:
"You're arriving quite late. Long trip?"
I sighed softly before answering, trying to remain polite despite my exhaustion.
I said:
"Sir, please… drive without talking too much. I'm really tired. I just came back from a very long trip from the United States."
He glanced at me through the rearview mirror.
The taxi driver said:
"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were so exhausted."
I replied:
"It's alright."
A brief silence followed, broken only by the sound of the engine and the tires rolling against the road. Then, despite himself, he spoke again.
The taxi driver said:
"But you speak our language very well. You sound like someone from here."
I answered:
"I am from here. I came back for my parents' funeral."
The taxi slowed slightly.
The taxi driver said:
"Oh… I'm sorry for prying. My condolences."
I said:
"Don't worry. Nice to meet you. My name is Salif… but you can call me Sall."
The taxi driver replied:
"Nice to meet you. My name is—"
He never finished his sentence.
Strangely, I could no longer hear him. Not because he had stopped talking, but because my attention had suddenly been pulled elsewhere.
On the side of the road, a woman was walking.
There was something unusual about her. She wore a spotless white boubou, untouched by dust. Her head was completely shaved. Her skin was unnaturally pale, standing out against the darkness of the night. And most disturbing of all… she was barefoot.
At two in the morning.
On that road.
My chest tightened.
For a moment, I wondered if exhaustion was playing tricks on my mind. But no. She was real.
Suddenly, she stopped.
Slowly, she lifted her head.
Our eyes met.
At that exact moment, she started running.
Not toward the sidewalk.
Not across the road.
Toward us.
I whispered:
"Sir… do you see the same thing I do?"
No response.
"Sir?!"
The taxi driver stared straight ahead, his hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel, as if he hadn't noticed anything. Yet the car was slowing down on its own.
The woman was now running directly in front of the taxi, at an unnatural, steady pace, as if her feet barely touched the ground.
I said, my voice shaking:
"Sir, please tell me you see that woman!"
He finally responded, his voice tense, almost irritated.
The taxi driver said:
"Sall… that's your name, right? Wait until we reach our destination. I'll explain everything. But for now, let me drive."
That was when I understood.
He was pretending to be calm.
But he was afraid.
Just like me.
The woman slowly turned her head toward me. Her eyes were empty, without pupils, like dull mirrors. Then her lips parted.
She said:
"Tell the driver… to look at me."
My blood froze instantly. A crushing pressure settled on my chest. Breathing became difficult.
I closed my eyes for a brief moment, hoping everything would disappear.
But when I opened them… she was still there.
Worse.
On the right side of the road, a male silhouette appeared in the shadows. Tall. Motionless. Too motionless.
I screamed without even realizing it.
I shouted:
"Oh no! THERE'S ANOTHER ONE!"
The taxi screeched to a halt.
The taxi driver yelled:
" Don't look at them! Whatever happens, never look at them directly!"
But it was already too late.
The male silhouette took one step forward.
Then another.