The Snake Girl In a quiet town, there was a secondary school where students always talked about one girl. Her name was Adaora.

From the day she entered the school, it was as if the sun itself had followed her. Her skin was flawless, her eyes sharp and bright, and her smile… her smile could melt even the hardest heart. Every boy wanted her. Every girl envied her. Teachers praised her. She walked into a class, and silence followed her.

But Adaora was not like the others. She always kept her distance. She never played too much. She never allowed anyone too close. Some thought she was just proud. Others said she was shy. But the truth was darker than anyone could ever imagine.

Adaora was hiding a secret—one that could destroy her if anyone found out.
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During break time, the school compound was noisy with laughter, noise, and running feet. Boys played football, girls stood in groups gossiping. And there she was—Adaora—sitting alone under the mango tree, quietly reading her book.

From a distance, Emeka watched her. He was not the richest boy in school, not the funniest, but he had something different—a pure heart. His friends always laughed at him because he liked Adaora.
“Emeka, stop wasting your time,” one of them said.

“She will never look at you. She is not for people like us.”
But Emeka only smiled.

“You don’t understand. There is something about her… something real.”

That afternoon, Emeka gathered his courage. His palms were sweaty, his heart beat fast, but he walked up to her. Adaora looked up from her book, surprised.

“Hello, Adaora,” Emeka said softly.

She frowned slightly. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to say… I like you. Not like the others. I don’t care about your beauty. I just want to know you.”

Adaora’s face hardened. She closed her book and stood up.
“Emeka, don’t waste your time. I can never like you. Please, stay away from me.”

Her voice was sharp. She walked away quickly, leaving Emeka standing there, embarrassed. His friends laughed at him from a distance.

But Adaora’s steps were heavy. Inside her, her heart was bleeding.
“Why do you make it so hard for me, Emeka? Don’t you know you can never be with me? If you get close, you will only get hurt…”

That night, Adaora sat alone in her room, staring at the moon through her window. Tears rolled down her face. She whispered to herself:
“Why did I even come to this school? Why can’t I just be normal like other girls? Oh Emeka… if only you knew who I really am, you would run from me. I am not human. I am not free. I am cursed.”
As she cried, her body began to shiver. Her eyes glowed faintly in the dark. Her fingers twitched. She quickly covered herself with her blanket.

The truth was coming. The snake inside her wanted to show itself.
But she forced it down. She bit her lips, pressed her hands together, and prayed silently.

By midnight, she lay awake, whispering again:

“No one must ever know. Especially not Emeka.”

Adaora staring into the darkness, hiding her tears, while far away, Emeka is also awake, thinking about her, wondering why her rejection hurt so much—yet still dreaming of her smile.

The next morning, the sky was heavy with clouds. Rain had begun to fall before dawn, and the school compound smelled of wet dust and mango leaves.

Students rushed under the corridors, laughing and shouting, but Emeka walked slowly. He couldn’t stop thinking about Adaora’s eyes when she rejected him — not angry, not cold… but afraid.

In class, Adaora sat at her usual spot by the window. Her gaze was fixed outside, lost in the curtain of rain. When their eyes met, she looked away immediately. But Emeka noticed something — a faint bandage wrapped around her wrist.

At break time, he saw her slip quietly toward the old laboratory, a part of the school few students ever entered. Curiosity burned inside him. He followed her from a distance.

Inside, Adaora closed the door, unaware he was watching from behind the half-open window. She took a deep breath, removed the bandage — and Emeka froze.

Beneath her skin, faint scales shimmered in the dim light.

He covered his mouth, heart thudding like a drum. What did he just see? Was it real?

Suddenly, Adaora stiffened. Her head turned sharply toward the window — her eyes now glowing a faint golden hue. For a moment, she wasn’t human.

Emeka stumbled back, splashing through puddles as he ran.

That night, the school was alive with whispers. Someone said a student saw Adaora’s shadow move like a serpent. Someone else swore they heard hissing near the girls’ dormitory.

But no one dared to ask her. No one except Emeka.

He waited after class, trembling but determined.

“Adaora,” he whispered as she passed.

She stopped, her face pale. “You shouldn’t be near me.”

“What are you hiding?” he asked quietly. “I saw your wrist.”

Adaora’s eyes filled with tears. “You saw too much,” she said softly. “Now, it’s only a matter of time before they come for me.”

“Who?” he asked.

She looked up at the darkening sky. “The ones who cursed me.”

Then, lightning split the clouds above them.