This is a brief prequel to Things Fall Apart I wrote several years ago for a class assignment. I recently unearthed it from my hard drive and decided that the story may be interesting to some people.

Enjoy!

Unoka had always loathed the sweat and toil of working in the fields.

The yams, he thought, could always be harvested later in the season. And there were strong men to do the hard work. Why should he have to work as well? He was weak and would not be much help in the fields.

And so Unoka idled. He would go to the burbling stream in the clearing, always with his flute. Then he would play, delighting in the peace and serenity, and the birds would fall silent in the wake of his beautiful music.

There was a girl that often met him in the clearing. Her name was Akinyi, which meant 'born in the morning', and they had grown up together. She loved to hear him play his flute. One melody in particular was her favorite. He would play it every day, and every day she rewarded him with a smile to rival the sun. It was this melody that he played at every festival, every gathering of musicians that his father, Idowu, allowed him to attend. Each time, it was met with admiration and heartfelt joy.

"Never stop playing," Mwenye, a village elder, told him after one spectacular performance. "Your flute brings pleasure to the Earth Goddess. It is why the harvest has been so plentiful in these past few years."

Akinyi was Unoka's opposite in every way. He was cowardly, while she was brash; he would much rather lounge and loaf in the shade of the forest, while she often dragged him off on wild adventures that he would much rather experience exclusively in his dreams.

There was one time, when they were very young, when Akinyi tried to convince Unoka to explore the Evil Forest with her. Unoka, of course, had flat-out refused.

"Do you want to get hanged?" He had asked her incredulously. Akinyi paled and spoke no more of the subject.

Unoka had always had a fascination with the egwugwu. Their outlandish masks and dances had entranced him since he was a small child, and he often created stories around them, telling it to the clouds and the stones, the insects, and sometimes even Akinyi, when he was feeling bold. It was to her credit that she never laughed at his childlike pastime.

Then, with his flute, he would weave his stories into his music. The tale of Evil Forest, leader of the egwugwu – of the time when he tired of the misty gloom of the trees and traveled to the sun to steal her warmth, which is why his head was always smoking – made Akinyi laugh out loud. And when he told it in the playful staccatos and liquid arpeggios of his beloved flute, she was rapt with awe and wonder.

One day, all of Umuofia was called to assemble on the village ilo. It was the day that the egwugwu would emerge to settle the villagers' disputes. Unoka and Akinyi looked on from a respectful distance, though Unoka dearly wished to be sitting among the elders and titled men, if only so that he could catch a closer look at the beings that so enthralled him.

"Umuofia kwenu!" roared Evil Forest. Four times he saluted the village, and four times the elders replied, "Yaa!"

"Uzochi's body, I salute you," said Evil Forest, and the ceremony began.

Unoka did not care to listen to the villagers' petty squabbles. He was transfixed by the egwugwu, his wide eyes drinking in their enormous wooden faces, their rattling staffs, their raffia bodies. His mind raced, weaving stories, songs, entire worlds around the inhuman power of the ancestral spirits.

"Unoka," whispered Akinyi. When he did not reply, she stuck her elbow into the side of his stomach. Unoka yelped and shot her an aggrieved look.

"Where has your mind wandered off to?" she snapped, and shook her head. "Never mind. After the ceremony, come with me. I have an idea."

Unoka paled, because Akinyi's ideas always meant that law-breaking and danger were involved. He swallowed hard. "What are you planning?"

Akinyi shot him a secretive smile. "A surprise."

At long last, the ceremony ended, and the egwugwu retreated back into their hut. Akinyi grabbed Unoka's arm and dragged him behind a nearby obi.

"What are you doing?" he protested.

Akinyi clapped a hand over his mouth. "Shh!"

They waited for what seemed like hours. The villagers gradually drifted out of the ibo, returning to their homes to have their evening meal. Unoka's stomach rumbled as the tantalizing scent of yam foo-foo wafted out of the obi they were hiding behind.

"Father is going to beat me so badly that I will not be able to move for a week!" Unoka hissed. "When is your surprise going to show itself?"

Akinyi did not answer him. Her gaze was intent on the egwugwus' house. Frustrated, Unoka fell silent.

Not a minute later, nine men exited the hut, looking around cautiously. Unoka stifled a gasp. His father, Idowu, was among them.

"What-" Unoka started as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Come!" Akinyi ordered. This time, Unoka did not resist as she led him to the hut. She did not give him time to admire the patterns and drawings on the walls, and Unoka craned his neck to observe them for a few seconds longer as she forced him into the hut.

The inside of the house was almost disappointingly plain. There were no furnishings, nothing to suggest inhabitation. Unoka brushed this off, for who could expect the spirits of the egwugwu to dwell in the mortal plane? For the first time, he felt a cold shiver of trepidation.

"Akinyi, we really shouldn't-"

"Look!" She pointed out a neat line of baskets in a corner. Unoka counted – there were nine of them in total. With a growing sense of dread, he approached the nearest basket.

The leering wooden face of Evil Forest stared back at him.

"Agh!" Unoka leaped back, tripping over his own feet. He fell onto his rear, panting with terror. "A-Akinyi, it's..."

"Just a mask." With a fearlessness that astounded him, Akinyi lifted Evil Forest's face and showed him the back. "Look – here is the string that the men use to hold it to their heads." She shot Unoka a grim look. "The egwugwu do not exist. They are only grown men playing a children's costume game."

The world came crashing down around his ears.

Evil Forest, the immortal spirit – a mortal man? Evil Forest, the fearsome egwugwu who had dared to challenge the might of the Sun, only a lifeless mask hiding a human face?

"No," Unoka whispered. "You must be mistaken. These...this..." A sudden fury overtook him, and he gave the basket a savage kick.

"Hide!" Akinyi said suddenly, and dragged him to the ground. Numb with shock, Unoka complied, his limbs like heavy mud.

Three men entered the hut. One of them was Idowu. Another was Mwenye. Unoka's blood froze in his veins.

"Next moon, Mwenye will be Evil Forest," Idowu said.

Mwenye smiled faintly. "No, Idowu. I was Evil Forest last moon. It is Ekwueme's turn next."

The other man, Ekwueme, nodded his head in acknowledgement. He was tall and thick-limbed, with heavy brows drawn over hard eyes. "You did well as Evil Forest today, Idowu. I can only hope to live up to your performance."

Idowu smiled graciously. "No, it is I that can only aspire to be as great an Evil Forest as you."

Unoka felt bile rise in his throat. He swallowed roughly.

The men turned toward the sound as one. Idowu's eyes were wary and suspicious.

"Look." Mwenye pointed to the basket Unoka had kicked. "Someone has come into the hut."

Unoka felt Akinyi tense next to him. He dared not to breathe.

"They may still be here," said Idowu harshly. His eyes were narrowed. They approached the baskets, where Unoka and Akinyi lay. Idowu's eyes widened as he caught sight of the two.

"Unoka!" he snapped. "What are you doing here?"

"Unoka?" inquired Ekwueme. "Your son?"

"My son no longer, if he cannot provide a reasonable explanation as to his presence," Idowu snarled.

"No!" Akinyi surged to her feet. The mens' gazes snapped to her.

"Chidike's girl. Akinyi, if my memory serves me well. Why are you here?" asked Mwenye. He looked at me, and a great weight seemed to fall upon his shoulders.

"It was my fault. Unoka didn't want to come, but I forced him to. He had nothing to do with it, I promise!"

"Akinyi, what are you-"

"Shut up," she hissed out of the corner of her mouth. "I know what I'm doing."

"Girl," said Mwenye heavily. "Do you know what the punishment is for trespassing into the egwugwus' hut?"

Akinyi shook her head.

"It is death." Mwenye's voice rang with a tone of dreadful finality. "This is the law of Umuofia, and it cannot be circumvented. Even for a pair of foolish children."

"Unoka had nothing to do with it!" Akinyi shouted desperately. "Why should he be punished for something I did?"

"Akinyi!" Unoka cried out.

"Don't you start!" Akinyi whirled around, and her eyes were feverish and swimming with unshed tears. "You didn't want to come here, it was me that forced you to! Do you deny that?"

Unoka bowed his head. "No," he whispered.

"Then stay out of this," Akinyi snapped.

"This is ridiculous," growled Ekwueme. "Sentencing a pair of children for mere curiosity? This is a travesty!"

"Do you contest the will of the Earth Goddess?" asked Mwenye heavily. "I do not think so. Akinyi, daughter of Chidike – your sentence is death. Unoka, son of Idowu – your family shall be fined two thousand cowries. From now until you die, you are forbidden to take a title."

There was very little ceremony on the day of Akinyi's execution. It was a scandal, and was mostly kept quiet. Unoka did not see her off. He stayed in his obi, fingering the smooth, worn wood of his flute. He brought it to his lips and blew out a shaky note.

The sound rattled from the instrument like raffia in the wind.

Unoka closed his eyes and let his tears fall. He placed the flute on a shelf.

He did not touch it again for seven years.