The Promotion List

Nobody remembered the first death.

Not because it wasn't tragic.

But because universities always had tragedies.

Road accidents.

Malaria.

Suicide.

Cult clashes.

The deaths blended into statistics.

Or so everyone believed.

The University of Calabar Faculty of Social Sciences stood quietly on a hill overlooking the familiar bustle of students moving between lecture halls.

To outsiders, it was just another faculty.

Inside...

People avoided discussing the month of October.

Promotion season.

Third-year Sociology student Ekanem Bassey didn't believe in superstitions.

She believed in evidence.

"You think lecturers kill students for promotion?"

She laughed loudly inside the cafeteria.

Her roommate, Rita, leaned closer.

"I'm serious."

"You've heard the stories."

"I've heard gossip."

"My cousin graduated here."

"So?"

"He warned me."

"About what?"

Rita lowered her voice.

"Whenever promotion interviews begin..."

"...someone dies."

Ekanem rolled her eyes.

"People die every semester."

"No."

"One student."

"Every single promotion year."

The conversation stayed in her head longer than she admitted.

Two weeks later...

Final-year Economics student Daniel collapsed during football practice.

Healthy.

Fit.

No illness.

Dead before reaching UCTH.

Doctors called it cardiac arrest.

Everyone mourned.

Life continued.

Then notices appeared around the faculty.

CONGRATULATIONS TO OUR NEWLY PROMOTED PROFESSORS.

Students celebrated.

Nobody connected the timing.

Except Rita.

She looked terrified.

"That's one."

Ekanem frowned.

"One what?"

That evening curiosity defeated skepticism.

She visited the faculty library.

The elderly librarian smiled.

"Looking for project materials?"

"No."

"I need old faculty magazines."

"How old?"

"As far back as possible."

He laughed.

"Interesting choice."

Dust filled the archive room.

She flipped through decades of newsletters.

Every promotion year celebrated newly promoted lecturers.

Every same year...

A memorial page.

One student.

Different departments.

Different ages.

Different causes.

Her heartbeat quickened.

"No..."

She pulled another magazine.

Again.

One death....