September 14th,
You don't light a fire and expect the darkness to clap. I knew this would happen — maybe not so soon, maybe not like this — but I knew. Still, knowing doesn't make it easier.
***
It had been almost two weeks since we started the prayer walks.
Every morning, without fail.
And we'd begun to feel it — the shift.
There was a thickness in the air. Conversations began to change. People started to notice us — not because we were loud, but because there was something… different.
Lecturers we hadn't greeted before started nodding at us. Some students stared. A few whispered. And a girl from another department even approached us one afternoon to ask for prayers.
We didn't fully understand it, but we knew God was moving.
Which is why Darrey's reaction didn't surprise me — it just hurt more than I expected.
It happened after a group discussion in our Communication Research class.
Darrey — tall, confident, and always surrounded by his echo chamber — turned to us as the group began to disperse.
"You three," he said, voice loud enough for others to hear. "What exactly are you doing roaming around campus at 5 AM like night guards?"
Tony calmly responded, "We pray."
Darrey chuckled. "Oh, I know. I've heard. The Watchmen, right? That's what some people are calling you now."
He leaned forward, mock serious. "Let me give you some advice. People come here to study, not to stage spiritual dramas. You're disturbing people."
"We haven't disturbed anyone," I said quietly. "We don't even pray loudly."
"Yeah? Tell that to the department head," he replied with a smirk. "I've already filed a report."
Mayumi blinked. "You did what?"
He shrugged. "Told him you were disturbing the peace. Creeping people out. I mean, this is a school, not a prayer camp. Get serious."
I felt heat rise in my chest, but I kept my voice steady. "And what do you call walking around with your boys at midnight, making noise and blasting music?"
Darrey's face shifted, but he quickly covered it with a grin. "Oh, Sandra. Don't get religious with me. Just take the advice. Lay low. Or better still — stop."
That evening, we were called in by the department secretary.
"Apparently," she said, adjusting her glasses, "a student has raised concerns about your activities. You've been seen 'loitering' and 'chanting in tongues' around the faculty buildings early in the morning."
"We weren't loitering," Tony replied. "We were praying. Quietly."
She looked tired, but not hostile. "I believe you. But things like this attract attention — not always the good kind. The HOD wants you to keep it off faculty grounds."
Mayumi's eyes dropped. Mine filled with quiet frustration.
"I understand," I said finally. "We'll adjust."
That night, I lay in bed journaling when I noticed Anita sitting up in hers, staring into the dark.
"You okay?" I asked.
She hesitated. "You ever dream the same dream so many times you start wondering if it's actually a memory?"
I paused. "Tell me about it."
But she shook her head. "Not yet. Just… keep doing whatever it is you're doing with your friends."
I turned toward her. "Why?"
"Because something is shifting. And even if I can't explain it… it feels like I'm finally breathing again."
***
Resistance doesn't always come in the form of demons and nightmares. Sometimes, it wears a hoodie, carries a backpack, and walks into the HOD's office with a smile and a lie. But here's the thing: the more they push, the more we burn. If the enemy wants a fight, then he's about to get one but he's already defeated.