Alaro City is a well-developed estate that could be described as a city on its own. It consists of beautiful residential blocks designed with European-style architecture. Each block follows the same layout, and within the estate, there are mosques and churches, supermarkets, playgrounds, a polytechnic, a hospital, and schools — all inside the community.
He was dressed in a cricket jersey — green in color — with the name ‘TAFEEDAH’ boldly written at the back. His cricket trousers, which reached down to his feet, were also green with white stripes along the sides. His legs were fitted with batting pads, just like professional cricketers wear. He had gloves on his hands, a helmet on his head, and held a cricket bat firmly in his grip.
He took his position, waiting for Joakim, who was about to bowl the ball. As soon as Joakim threw it, he swung the bat with all the strength God had given him. The ball flew high up into the air — everyone lifted their heads to see where it would land — it didn’t fall until it crossed the boundary line. Immediately, his teammates shouted excitedly, calling his name. They already knew that whenever Tafidah played, they had no reason to worry.
Smiling, he removed his helmet, revealing his face.
He was tall, and his skin was fair — not the typical African tone but more like a native Indian complexion. His smooth, sleek hair — styled in a high fade haircut with a razor part — rested neatly on his head. He had a fine, well-trimmed beard that connected from his sideburns down his jawline and circled his mouth. His facial features perfectly reflected his Indian origin.
Describing his handsomeness was almost a waste of time — he was what people would call “the end of discussion,” breathtakingly attractive and attention-grabbing. His light-blue eyes were his most striking feature — dazzling and magnetic.
The Doctor’s Secret and a Mysterious Transformation
He stood where his cricket kit bag was, packing his equipment inside. The last item he placed in the bag was his helmet before zipping it shut. Then he opened the small pocket of the bag where his phone and p-cap were kept. The cap had the name “TAFIDAH” written on it. He put it on, checked his phone, and saw several missed calls from Khabir, which hinted that something urgent was happening at the hospital. Putting his phone in his pocket, he slung the bag over his back and began walking out of the cricket ground.
His gait was full of confidence, class, and pride, revealing his royal bloodline — though he didn’t like to show it, nobility ran in his veins. Wherever he passed, people waved at him, and he waved back politely. He wasn’t very talkative, but he was kind and respected by everyone.
Since his house was close to the playground, he often went home on foot. The entire estate was well-tarred, and as he walked, many girls stole glances at him — Tafidah was the kind of man no lady could easily ignore. God had blessed him with charm and magnetism; even his walk was a sight to behold.
He finally arrived at his house, which looked exactly like the other buildings in his block. At the gate, a small signboard read:
“DR. ESHAAN AUWAL TAFIDA, B3 NO. 122.”
On his right wrist, he wore a digital watch, and above it, a stamped bracelet engraved with “TAFIDAH.” He tapped the watch lightly, and the gate automatically slid open. He entered and locked the gate behind him.
His house was a one-story duplex. The exterior featured full-length glass panels from top to bottom. From outside, one could see the chairs arranged on the rooftop balcony. Three cars — an Audi RSQ 8-R, a Honda Elevate, and a Mercedes-Benz — were parked in the lot.
He entered through the main door into a spacious living room furnished with luxury sofas. A glass door at the far end faced the entrance and led to a backyard garden. A staircase led upstairs, and the rooms above were visible through short glass railings. Four doors opened from the living room: the kitchen, laundry room, gym, and a storage room (for household items, not food).
He climbed the stairs to his room — the largest of the three bedrooms in the house. Everything in his room followed a dark and light blue theme with white touches: bed sheets, blankets, pillows, curtains, carpet, and sofa set.
Placing his kit bag in its usual spot, he set his phone on the bed and unplugged his other phone that had finished charging. He removed his wristwatch, hung his cap on the hat stand, and went to take a bath.
After some time, he came out wrapped in a towel, drying himself with another towel. Standing in front of the mirror, he used a hair dryer, followed by a hair straightener, and finally applied his special hair oil — making his hair shine. The high fade haircut left the sides and back neatly trimmed.
He opened his wardrobe (built into the wall) and took out a plain golden-colored outfit. After dressing up, he adjusted his traditional cap (hula) in front of the mirror, sprayed perfume, wore black moccasins, picked up his phones and car key, and left.
He drove his Mercedes-Benz to St. Nicholas Hospital. At the main entrance, labeled “Dr. Eshaan Auwal Tafida”, he parked and greeted the staff as he walked to his office. Before entering, he met Khabir, who greeted him with a handshake and said,
> “I called you, but you didn’t pick up. I guessed you were at the cricket field.”
“Yes, I saw your call after the match, so I came right away,”
he replied fluently in Hausa — surprisingly well for someone who didn’t look like he spoke the language — and his attire made him look even more Hausa.
> “What’s going on?”
he asked calmly in his deep, soothing voice.
> “A patient was brought in; Dr. Ola requested you immediately,”
Khabir replied.
> “Okay, let’s go check.”
They went to examine the patient, and Tafida quickly realized surgery was needed. Without delay, they performed the operation successfully. Afterwards, he gave instructions for the patient’s medications and returned to his office, then to the restroom.
As he washed his hands at the sink, he glanced into the mirror — and froze. His heart pounded violently at what he saw. His light-blue eyes had turned red. This wasn’t new to him, but lately, it had been happening more often — once rare, now almost daily. His eyes changed color without warning or sensation.
He touched his head, closed his eyes, trying to pray, but as always, his tongue felt too heavy. He knew what was coming — he couldn’t stop it. He opened his eyes again, gestured toward his phones — they lifted into the air and floated into his hand. Struggling to maintain control, he left the hospital, avoiding eye contact with anyone.
Once in his car, he locked the doors and leaned his head against the steering wheel. The familiar sensation surged through him — his pupils glowed red again, his mouth opened, and sharp fangs emerged from his upper teeth. His entire body trembled violently as he transformed into a horrifying creature — losing all control of himself.
---
Meanwhile at Binyaminu Usman Polytechnic, Hadejia, Jigawa State
Two young women were walking along the road leading out of the school, their tired movements showing how exhausted they were. One of them was dark-skinned, wearing atamfa fabric and a veil, while the other was lighter-skinned, dressed in a long hijab that almost hid her atamfa underneath.
The one with the veil hissed angrily, saying,
> “Useless man! That stupid Buzu thinks I’m nothing — that’s why he treats me any way he likes. But just wait till he comes; I’ll show him pepper. He drove off with the car and left me here suffering under this sun!”
Her friend in the hijab looked at her as they continued walking toward the school gate.
> “Honestly, Badar, you have no patience. Please start drinking the leftover water from ablution at sunset,”
Badar rolled her eyes,
> “Maryam, I can’t live with your kind of attitude. Don’t you know people nowadays — if you don’t deal with them harshly, they’ll trample on you?”
> “Please, just be patient,”
Maryam pleaded, glancing at her again.
Before they reached the gate, a car turned into the compound — the same one that usually picked Badar up. She hissed the moment she saw it. Even before the driver got close, he knew he was in trouble; Badar would surely scold him. Maybe today, she’d make a scene — and to make it worse, his friend had brought some girls into the car earlier. Luckily, Maryam was one of them — the only one who could calm Badar down.
He parked in front of them. Badar, fuming, opened the door and got in first, followed by Maryam. Immediately, Badar smacked him angrily, while Maryam tried to plead on his behalf.
Description
Alaro City and the Cricket Match
Alaro City is a well-developed estate that could be described as a city on its own. It consists of beautiful residential blocks designed with European-style architecture. Each block follows the same layout, and within the estate, there are mosques and churches, supermarkets, playgrounds, a polytechnic, a hospital, and schools — all inside the community.
He was dressed in a cricket jersey — green in color — with the name ‘TAFEEDAH’ boldly written at the back. His cricket trousers, which reached down to his feet, were also green with white stripes along the sides. His legs were fitted with batting pads, just like professional cricketers wear. He had gloves on his hands, a helmet on his head, and held a cricket bat firmly in his grip.
He took his position, waiting for Joakim, who was about to bowl the ball. As soon as Joakim threw it, he swung the bat with all the strength God had given him. The ball flew high up into the air — everyone lifted their heads to see where it would land — it didn’t fall until it crossed the boundary line. Immediately, his teammates shouted excitedly, calling his name. They already knew that whenever Tafidah played, they had no reason to worry.
Smiling, he removed his helmet, revealing his face.
He was tall, and his skin was fair — not the typical African tone but more like a native Indian complexion. His smooth, sleek hair — styled in a high fade haircut with a razor part — rested neatly on his head. He had a fine, well-trimmed beard that connected from his sideburns down his jawline and circled his mouth. His facial features perfectly reflected his Indian origin.
Describing his handsomeness was almost a waste of time — he was what people would call “the end of discussion,” breathtakingly attractive and attention-grabbing. His light-blue eyes were his most striking feature — dazzling and magnetic.
The Doctor’s Secret and a Mysterious Transformation
He stood where his cricket kit bag was, packing his equipment inside. The last item he placed in the bag was his helmet before zipping it shut. Then he opened the small pocket of the bag where his phone and p-cap were kept. The cap had the name “TAFIDAH” written on it. He put it on, checked his phone, and saw several missed calls from Khabir, which hinted that something urgent was happening at the hospital. Putting his phone in his pocket, he slung the bag over his back and began walking out of the cricket ground.
His gait was full of confidence, class, and pride, revealing his royal bloodline — though he didn’t like to show it, nobility ran in his veins. Wherever he passed, people waved at him, and he waved back politely. He wasn’t very talkative, but he was kind and respected by everyone.
Since his house was close to the playground, he often went home on foot. The entire estate was well-tarred, and as he walked, many girls stole glances at him — Tafidah was the kind of man no lady could easily ignore. God had blessed him with charm and magnetism; even his walk was a sight to behold.
He finally arrived at his house, which looked exactly like the other buildings in his block. At the gate, a small signboard read:
“DR. ESHAAN AUWAL TAFIDA, B3 NO. 122.”
On his right wrist, he wore a digital watch, and above it, a stamped bracelet engraved with “TAFIDAH.” He tapped the watch lightly, and the gate automatically slid open. He entered and locked the gate behind him.
His house was a one-story duplex. The exterior featured full-length glass panels from top to bottom. From outside, one could see the chairs arranged on the rooftop balcony. Three cars — an Audi RSQ 8-R, a Honda Elevate, and a Mercedes-Benz — were parked in the lot.
He entered through the main door into a spacious living room furnished with luxury sofas. A glass door at the far end faced the entrance and led to a backyard garden. A staircase led upstairs, and the rooms above were visible through short glass railings. Four doors opened from the living room: the kitchen, laundry room, gym, and a storage room (for household items, not food).
He climbed the stairs to his room — the largest of the three bedrooms in the house. Everything in his room followed a dark and light blue theme with white touches: bed sheets, blankets, pillows, curtains, carpet, and sofa set.
Placing his kit bag in its usual spot, he set his phone on the bed and unplugged his other phone that had finished charging. He removed his wristwatch, hung his cap on the hat stand, and went to take a bath.
After some time, he came out wrapped in a towel, drying himself with another towel. Standing in front of the mirror, he used a hair dryer, followed by a hair straightener, and finally applied his special hair oil — making his hair shine. The high fade haircut left the sides and back neatly trimmed.
He opened his wardrobe (built into the wall) and took out a plain golden-colored outfit. After dressing up, he adjusted his traditional cap (hula) in front of the mirror, sprayed perfume, wore black moccasins, picked up his phones and car key, and left.
He drove his Mercedes-Benz to St. Nicholas Hospital. At the main entrance, labeled “Dr. Eshaan Auwal Tafida”, he parked and greeted the staff as he walked to his office. Before entering, he met Khabir, who greeted him with a handshake and said,
> “I called you, but you didn’t pick up. I guessed you were at the cricket field.”
“Yes, I saw your call after the match, so I came right away,”
he replied fluently in Hausa — surprisingly well for someone who didn’t look like he spoke the language — and his attire made him look even more Hausa.
> “What’s going on?”
he asked calmly in his deep, soothing voice.
> “A patient was brought in; Dr. Ola requested you immediately,”
Khabir replied.
> “Okay, let’s go check.”
They went to examine the patient, and Tafida quickly realized surgery was needed. Without delay, they performed the operation successfully. Afterwards, he gave instructions for the patient’s medications and returned to his office, then to the restroom.
As he washed his hands at the sink, he glanced into the mirror — and froze. His heart pounded violently at what he saw. His light-blue eyes had turned red. This wasn’t new to him, but lately, it had been happening more often — once rare, now almost daily. His eyes changed color without warning or sensation.
He touched his head, closed his eyes, trying to pray, but as always, his tongue felt too heavy. He knew what was coming — he couldn’t stop it. He opened his eyes again, gestured toward his phones — they lifted into the air and floated into his hand. Struggling to maintain control, he left the hospital, avoiding eye contact with anyone.
Once in his car, he locked the doors and leaned his head against the steering wheel. The familiar sensation surged through him — his pupils glowed red again, his mouth opened, and sharp fangs emerged from his upper teeth. His entire body trembled violently as he transformed into a horrifying creature — losing all control of himself.
---
Meanwhile at Binyaminu Usman Polytechnic, Hadejia, Jigawa State
Two young women were walking along the road leading out of the school, their tired movements showing how exhausted they were. One of them was dark-skinned, wearing atamfa fabric and a veil, while the other was lighter-skinned, dressed in a long hijab that almost hid her atamfa underneath.
The one with the veil hissed angrily, saying,
> “Useless man! That stupid Buzu thinks I’m nothing — that’s why he treats me any way he likes. But just wait till he comes; I’ll show him pepper. He drove off with the car and left me here suffering under this sun!”
Her friend in the hijab looked at her as they continued walking toward the school gate.
> “Honestly, Badar, you have no patience. Please start drinking the leftover water from ablution at sunset,”
Badar rolled her eyes,
> “Maryam, I can’t live with your kind of attitude. Don’t you know people nowadays — if you don’t deal with them harshly, they’ll trample on you?”
> “Please, just be patient,”
Maryam pleaded, glancing at her again.
Before they reached the gate, a car turned into the compound — the same one that usually picked Badar up. She hissed the moment she saw it. Even before the driver got close, he knew he was in trouble; Badar would surely scold him. Maybe today, she’d make a scene — and to make it worse, his friend had brought some girls into the car earlier. Luckily, Maryam was one of them — the only one who could calm Badar down.
He parked in front of them. Badar, fuming, opened the door and got in first, followed by Maryam. Immediately, Badar smacked him angrily, while Maryam tried to plead on his behalf.