When Bimpe wore the wig for the first time, she couldn't deny how stunning she looked. Her colleagues at work complimented her, and strangers turned to stare as she walked by. For the first time in months, she felt confident.
But that night, as she prepared for bed, she heard a faint sound. It was like a soft hum, a melody that seemed to drift through her room. She brushed it off as a neighbor playing music.
The next day, she wore the wig again to a friend's party. The compliments flowed in, and she was the center of attention. But something strange happened. Whenever a man tried to approach her, they seemed to lose interest abruptly, as if an invisible force pushed them away.
Later that night, the humming returned, but this time it was clearer. It wasn't just humming—it was singing.
"Beauty so rare, no love to compare,
But beware, beware, I am always there..."
Bimpe froze. The voice was soft but eerie, and it seemed to come from everywhere. She checked her windows and doors, but the sound persisted. She tried to sleep, dismissing it as her imagination, but deep inside, she felt a chill.