The Boy Who Spoke to Shadows

[MysteRy]

In the village of Omirima, nestled at the edge of a whispering forest, lived a quiet boy named Ayo. He was different. While other children ran, sang, and played in the sun, Ayo spent his time watching the shadows—those silent dancers cast by firelight and moon.

“Ayo is strange,” the villagers said. “He talks to things that don’t talk back.”

But Ayo paid them no mind. For he knew something they didn’t: the shadows remembered.

He would sit under the great iroko tree at dusk, and as the sky melted into night, he would whisper, “Tell me your story.”

And the shadows would move.

One evening, a great darkness came to Omirima. The sun did not rise. Crops withered, animals fled, and even fire refused to burn bright. Fear gripped the village.

The elders prayed. The hunters searched. The rainmakers chanted. Nothing worked.

But Ayo… Ayo sat beneath the iroko tree and spoke to the deepest shadow.

“Why have you stolen our light?” he asked.

And the shadow answered—not with a voice, but with a vision.

He saw the past: a forgotten promise. Long ago, the villagers made a vow to the spirit of the forest, promising to care for the land, never to take more than they gave. But over time, greed replaced gratitude. Trees were cut recklessly. Rivers poisoned. The balance broken.

Ayo stood before the village. “We caused the darkness,” he said. “But we can bring back the light.”

He led them into the forest, barefoot and bare-handed. Together, they planted trees. They sang to the soil. They poured water into dry roots and lit lamps in hollowed logs.

Then, one morning—after the 13th night—the sun returned.

The villagers wept with joy. But Ayo? He simply nodded at the shadows.

From that day, the people of Omirima honored both the light and the dark.

Because they had learned: “Shadows are not the enemy—they are the memory.”

Moral: Respect the past, listen to the quiet, and you will find the light again.