My Daughter Has a Ghost Final Part 3 – Saviour ibok author
Lucy.
Soon, it was night again and I was terrified. In the evening, I tried to make dinner, but I ended up burning the food. It wasn’t that bad so I let Vera eat (oh, she wasn’t happy one bit and she kept grunting and mumbling about how bad the food tasted). It wasn’t her fault. I didn’t tell her what had happened to me. It was bad enough that I was still trembling inside. I didn’t want her to start feeling the fear too.
Also, I’d told her not to go to school—I definitely couldn’t stay at home by myself and I didn’t have the strength to go to my boutique. Vera didn’t ask why; she simply tossed her uniforms on the floor and went around shouting ‘hurray!’
Now that it was night again, I was afraid and my stomach twisted; every sound I heard made me jump. I had to put on the TV and turn the volume up. It helped to drown out every noise. Also, Vera was helpful because she talked a lot.
By 8, Vera slept and I put her on the sofa next to me. Every thought I had was about ghosts and the images wouldn’t get out of my mind. Trembling, I sat there (trying to force myself to watch TV) till I heard a knock on the door.
My skin stiffened and I jumped to my feet, then grabbed the knife I’d kept on the floor beside the sofa (I know I sound mad, but after experiencing those horrors, carrying knives with me is the least I could do).
I listened and heard the knock again. My heart was beating so fast and my legs felt like jelly. I swallowed and tip-toed to the door. Swiftly, I pulled the door open and swung the knife out.
My husband yelled and jumped back, ready to run away. But he stopped when he saw it was me. I, too, relaxed and then retracted the knife. I offered a weak smile. “Tim! I’m so sorry!”
Tim held his chest and exhaled. “Lucy, don’t do this to me. Not after what I’ve been through.”
I moved aside and let him in (I did this before I could even imagine that he could actually be a ghost pretending to be my husband). The moment I thought of that, the fear returned and I stood near the door. (Hi, my name is Saviour Ibok, author. I’m the original writer of this story).
I watched as Tim went over and kissed Vera on the forehead, then he collapsed on the sofa, exhausted. “You didn’t answer any of my calls, Lucy.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. I hadn’t remembered all day because I was too exhausted to think of anything else.
Tim shook his head. He looked haggard, like he’d been wrestling with some street cats. “You won’t believe what I just went through, Lucy.”
I chuckled. “I think you won’t believe what I went through. I had the worst night.”
I told him and he told me. Then, we both stared at each other like we were frozen. If anything, his narration filled me with more fear. Was our family under some sort of ghost attack? Would they come back?
“I didn’t think I’d come back alive, Lucy,” he said, shaking his head. “I had to borrow this shirt because my shirt was torn badly.”
I sighed. “What are we going to do now? We can’t stay here tonight, can we?”
Tim stood up and hugged me. In his embrace, I could feel his rapidly beating heart and the trembling of his hands. He was terrified too, but I was glad that he comforted me despite his fears. “I don’t know if we’ll be fine, but we have each other. Okay?”
I nodded. He pulled away and noticed the wound on my face for the first time. “How did you get so bruised up?”
“I fell,” I said.
He took a deep breath and stepped back. “Can you believe it? I actually used a human head to pound a car window some hours ago.”
“Tim, stop! I don’t think I want to hear any more of this. For my sanity’s sake!”
He nodded. “But I still see them, Lucy.”
I know. I see them too. “Will we ever be okay after this? Will life be the same for us?” I don’t know about him, but I’m sure this trauma will follow me for years to come. I don’t know how I’ll sleep tonight or the next night.
“I don’t know. We’ll just have to manage. We’ll sleep in the same room—all of us. We’ll leave the lights on.”
That wasn’t enough for me. “I think we should move out of this neighbourhood and go somewhere else. We can get another house.”
Tim turned away. “We can’t. I lost my job and my boss is going to sue me for assault and battery. God, things are going to get worse.”
First, I was shocked, but after he told me how he lost his job, I became dumfounded. Tim looked really lost and his eyes spoke volumes.
Now, it was my turn to comfort him because I felt his pain and fear. I hugged him (it did me some good too because I think I needed to be hugged every second now). “It will be fine.” I whispered.
“I hope so. I hope they don’t come back for us.”
“They won’t,” I said. I wasn’t so confident in this, but the ghost girls had said they would find someone else to play with. Sadly, that someone was Mr Tony, our next-door neighbour. “They will find someone else.”
That night, we kept each other company and stayed awake through it all. Nothing strange happened.
The End.
….
*Extra* (This is just a little extra scene for fun).
Mr Tony’s house, 9:45p.m.
These days, I think of myself as the saddest man alive. Every night, I’d drink myself to stupor while I looked at my wife’s framed photo on the wall. She had been killed during a terrorist attack. I wasn’t home that day so when I returned from the military base, I found my house bombed to pieces and my wife’s body had been pulled out in fragments (first the leg, then the head and such).
That experience had reduced me to the man I am now (absolutely miserable and useless).
I drank more beer and kept my eyes on the picture. Then, something weird happened. I was almost drunk, but I know what I saw. The person in the picture blinked and her lips stretched wider in a smile.
I dropped the bottle of beer and went closer. As I watched, my wife in the picture spoke. “Hey, darling, long time no see.”
I stumbled back and knocked over my beer. The bottle shattered. I was trembling in fear, but I kept watching the sudden transformation that followed.
“Wait, let me come out to you,” my wife’s picture said. Then, a hand popped out of the photo followed by another hand, then a leg and a head. Before I could count three, my wife dragged herself out of the photo and stood before me, smiling.
“You’re not Rose,” I said.
“Of course, I am. Do you want to see more of me?”
She split in two again and again till I was facing over twelve copies of my wife. I knew madness when I saw it. I dashed to my cupboard, pulled my gun out and cocked it. I turned and rattled away.
There was blood everywhere, but one of the women was left standing. She hissed. “See? You’ve killed me again!”
Right at that moment, I knew I was done for.
….
Hi, this is the ending of the story. It’s a little dramatic, but I didn’t want to dive through Tony’s experiences. All through, I’ve tried to capture the horror of a ghost haunt and I hope it entertained you. The ending was supposed to leave you guys with questions. You guys have made this fun for me because of your kind words and reactions. I’m honored – Saviour ibok author
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