I didn’t know that the news of my dëath had already travelled far ahead of me.

That morning, I arrived at my master’s factory very early, expecting the usual routine of opening the gates and preparing for the day’s work. Instead, I walked straight into an atmosphere that felt completely out of place.

All the factory workers were confused.

Wait… was confusion even the right word?

Well, I don’t think the word confusion sounds in place.

All around me, the workers and apprentices were restless and unsettled.

From different corners of the factory, I saw people suddenly turning to look at me. Some stared at me with deep puzzlement on their faces, as though they had just seen a … Others called my name out loudly.

“Is that not Brian?”

For a moment, I slowed my steps, trying to understand what exactly was happening.

As the youngest apprentice among the twelve, I would not be exaggerating if I said I was one of the most popular.

I was known as the quiet one. That was the description everyone used whenever they wanted to identify me.

“Send the quiet apprentice.”

That was enough for people to know who they meant.

I had barely spent a year there, but my silent presence had somehow already reached the far ends of the factory. Workers from different sections knew me, even those I had never exchanged more than two words with.

I minded my business.

I barely talked to anyone. I rarely laughed. I simply did my work and stayed out of trouble.

Yet strangely, I was the one everyone trusted with errands. As long as I was around, they confidently placed things in my hands. If something needed to be delivered carefully, they called me. If something needed to be fetched without mistake, they called me.

They were confident I would handle things properly.

So that morning, instead of pretending to find out what the clamour was all about, I quietly navigated my way toward Mama Nkechi’s shade, the popular food seller whose small shelter stood at the corner of the compound.

Her spot was like a morning gathering place for workers and apprentices before the real work of the day began.

From a distance, my fellow apprentices who were seated under the shade eating their breakfast, noticed me.

The moment their eyes met mine, they took to their heels..

They jumped up from their seats and scattered in different directions.

I frowned slightly but continued walking.

When I finally arrived at Mama Nkechi’s shade, the shock waiting for me there was even greater.

The moment Mama Nkechi saw me, she bent down quickly, scooped sand from the ground, and poured it on my body.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The sand scattered across my shirt and shoulders as I stood there in complete surprise.

She bent again to fetch another handful of sand, but her heavily pregnant daughter, Nkechi, immediately rushed forward and grabbed her hand.

“Mama abeg stop! Can’t you see he’s Brian in full flesh?” her daughter cried out, looking both embarrassed and concerned.

Mama Nkechi froze.

Then she slowly lifted her eyes and looked at me again, as if she was trying to convince herself that what she was seeing was real.

“Brian…” Mama Nkechi called slowly.

“Yes Ma,” I answered calmly.

She paused, staring at me as if her eyes were struggling to accept what they were seeing.

Her mouth remained slightly open.

Then suddenly, her daughter broke the silence.

“You need to see the way my mother was crying yesterday when the news reached her ears,” her daughter laughed lightly, though her face still carried traces of yesterday’s tension.

“What news?” I asked.

“I thought they said you d!ed yesterday afternoon?” she replied.

With my arms folded across my chest, I slowly turned around, my eyes scanning the factory compound behind me.

Anxiety suddenly rose inside me.

At that very moment, a troubling realization began to settle in my mind.

It dawned on me that my enem!es had probably played one of their best cards.

Turning to face mother and daughter again, I let out a deep breath, shaking my head despondently as if trying to shake off the thought.

“Mama, abeg give me my usual,” I demanded in a hurry, quickly finding a wooden bench nearby and settling down.

For closely a minute, Mama Nkechi simply stared at me quietly. She was visibly overwhelmed, as though her mind was still struggling to accept the reality before her eyes.

“Mama!” Nkechi shouted gently, trying to bring her back to herself.

Immediately, she seemed to regain her senses and hurried away to serve the food.

A few minutes later, Mama Nkechi returned with a plate of rice and beans, with two hot okpa carefully placed beside it.

Without saying a word, I received the food and immediately dug my spoon into it.

While I ate, Mama Nkechi remained standing there, watching me eat with deep concern written all over her face.

Normally, as apprentices, we didn’t eat in our master’s house during weekdays. Only on Sundays when we rested at home.

Mama Nkechi was our main food plug.

From Monday to Saturday, we ate her food three times a day. First in morning when we arrive at the factory, again at noon, and once more in the evening before returning home.

Kenneth, the most senior apprentice, was the one responsible for settling the food bills at the end of every day. After paying, he carefully records everything in the factory ledger.

As I sat there enjoying the hot meal, Mama Nkechi slowly lowered herself onto the bench beside me.

“What actually happened?” she asked gently, her voice filled with motherly concern.

I paused briefly but said nothing.

“Listen to me, my son,” she continued softly. “The way you keep quiet all the time… it will not help you in a den of wolves.”

I wasn’t particularly interested in the lecture, but I kept listening as I continued eating.

“I can tell you for free that not everyone here likes you,” she added. “Even though you live a quiet life.”

She leaned slightly closer.

“I know what I am saying. I know the good ones. After what happened to my daughter, I became very careful about everything that happens in this factory — the workers, the apprentices everything.”

Then she said something that startled me even more.

“Just some days ago, I dreamt that you were arrested by your master,” she said slowly.

My hand tightened slightly around the spoon.

“In that dream, after you were arrested, I saw your master’s wife and some of your fellow apprentices rejoicing.”

She shook her head slowly.

“In the dream, I kept asking what happened to you, but nobody answered me. They all ignored me.”

I continued eating, but my grip on the spoon had grown firmer.

“So yesterday, after I returned from Sunday service,” she continued, “someone came and told me you were dead.”

Her eyes became moist.

“I started crying immediately. Then that dream came back to my mind. I felt guilty… because I thought maybe if I had told you earlier, maybe it could have prevented something.”

She sighed deeply.

But before she could say anything further, the sound of a car engine hummed from the entrance of the factory.

Looking up, I sighted my master’s car.

And Immediately, I sprang to my feet, still holding the plate of food in my hand.