My Daughter Has a Ghost Part 2👻👀 – Saviour ibok author
Lucy
“We all are already dead.”
Those words rang in my mind like the echoes of a thousand bells. I was totally numb with fear and my heart slowed. There’s such a time when fear paralysis you to the point your heart wants to stop. I felt exactly that way.
The one place I thought I could be saved turned out to be a hell hole. I panted as I stared into the pastor’s decayed face. The maggots that crawled on his skin moved in frenzy. Some would dig into his rotten skin and others would dig their way out.
When the man saw I didn’t move, he smiled; his face stretched and revealed the bones of his skull underneath. He stood up and threw off the outer black coat he wore. It was then that I saw his full body.
He was nothing but bones stacked together with only rotten flesh left to hold the bones in place.
Just then, the front door swung open and the other ghosts swarmed in. My heart decided the horror was too much and started hammering again. Still, I didn’t have the strength to get up or try to run. In my mind I knew only one thing was going to happen: my death.
Since childhood, I’ve imagined how I’d die. Most times, I thought it would be a good idea to die in my sleep (that seemed peaceful enough). At other times, I imagined myself just sitting to watch TV and then my heart stops (these imaginations had just been stray thoughts and they scared me most times, but I preferred that to dying in a ghastly accident).
Now, it seemed my death was fixed at the hands of ghosts, who would not only kill me but also eat my body (I’m sure of that).
Yet, I still mustered the last drop of strength in me and pleaded. “Please!”
The other ghosts—the floating, white ones and the two girls—stood still at the doorway as if they’d seen a bigger ghost. It was a little funny on my side to see the things that had caused me fear standing still in horror.
Then, the bony ones from the cemetery barged in. They didn’t stop to look at the white ones; they just rushed right towards the decayed man towering over me.
When the pastor saw them, he growled and black spittle sprayed from its decayed mouth. The others stood still too. He pointed at me. “Get back to where you crawled out from. This one is mine!”
The bony ghosts weren’t pleased at all, but they obeyed and trudged back out like servants under the command of their king. They left, but the white ones and the two girls didn’t. They were afraid just as I was, but they didn’t run.
The pastor turned to me and offered a sinister smile again. His face would make anyone reject food for a month because it was disgusting and twisted and rotten and smelly. But at this stage, the fear didn’t let me concentrate on that. I just lay on the floor, panting, waiting for him to kill me.
My sense of survival screamed at me to get up and run out the door. But my body was too weak. All night I’ve been running so what was the use?
Still, it was painful. My husband was away in another city, working. He was probably still sleeping soundly and here I was, about to die. I wished there was a way I could send a telepathic message. I couldn’t and the phone I held firmly in my hand still refused to turn on.
The pastor grabbed me by the shoulder and dragged me up. His touch was wet and slippery; the stench made my stomach turn.
“Come on,” he said and dragged me along. “I’d love to eat you in here, but those stupid white ghosts just disgust me.”
I tried to resist, but he was incredibly stronger. The only thing I could do was plead.
The pastor brought me to a back door and we got outside. He threw me on the ground, then he made his bony fingers extend and become like knives. “Ah, it’s been long I tasted flesh. Those white ghosts don’t know what they’re missing. You see, they didn’t want to kill you; they just go around scaring people. But we dark ghosts kill and eat. I think it’s because during our lifetime, we had a brutal death—you know all these accidents and stuff?”
My heart was still pounding and I somehow had the strength to crawl away from him a little. He didn’t mind (maybe he knew I couldn’t get far).
He continued with his monologue. “It’s so humiliating that everyone thinks all ghosts are the same. We are of two types: the white ones who only know how to scare and the dark ones like me. People should know the difference. But it’s fine. We are dead already and you’ll join us. Things of the world shouldn’t concern us, right?”
I tried to crawl away some more, but he dashed at me and swung out its hand. I shut my eyes and waited for the blow. It never came so I gathered strength and opened them again. I saw the most startling thing!
One of the faceless ghosts held the black ghost’s hand firmly. “Don’t you dare touch her!” it said.
The black ghost growled and yanked his hand away, then, it tore the white one to pieces. He turned to me again, but the other white ghosts and the two girls came running over. The two girls kept yelling, “leave our mom alone!”
When they said that, I admit, my heart skipped a few beats. But that wasn’t my major concern. What captured me was the fight that followed. Never before would I have thought I’d see a day two ghost races would fight.
And I knew they were fighting for my sake.
I became filled with strength. It’s odd, but that sense of survival became stronger. I thought I still had a chance. I crawled to my feet and stumbled away. My heart was still pounding hard. As I dragged myself farther away, the cries of agony became louder. I turned and looked.
The dark ghost was brutally killing the white ones. He didn’t seem challenged at all. Blood and flesh scattered everywhere. I stood there, watching in fear. Then, the dark ghost grabbed one of the girls by the throat.
I don’t know what sort of demon got into me, but I went back. It was a stupid idea, but I had to go back for two reasons: one, the white ghosts were fighting to protect me. Two, even if I ran, the dark ghost would still find me. There was no way out for me. I swallowed my fear, looked around and was fortunate enough to find a metal beam leaning against the church’s wall.
I grabbed it. With all my strength, I swung the beam at the dark ghost. The rotten flesh broke away and a few bones broke loose from its face. The ghost howled in pain and anger and threw the girl down. It charged at me. I wasn’t afraid. This night would end in two ways: either me or him.
I swung again and again. The beam broke away chunks of his bones and flesh and finally, I hit a critical spot that broke the head apart. The dark ghost fell over and spilled maggots.
I turned to the white ghosts, ready to attack them too. They stepped forward and I yelled, “stay back!” my confidence was because I knew these ghosts could be killed.
The faceless one shook its head and said, “we just wanted to play. It’s lonely on the other side. Thank you for saving us from a second death.”
I didn’t care. I just wanted to be left alone. The two girls were afraid of me. One tried to come close, but I swung the beam and she rushed back. “Mom,” they called at once.
“You’re not my daughter!” I said.
Then, the pale one sighed and turned to the other girl. “I think we have to go now. There’s no point playing anymore. She’s not our mom.”
The other one refused; she looked sad. I still didn’t care. The pale one dragged her away. “let’s go before the sun comes up. We’ll find someone else to play with.”
“Who?” the other one asked.
“Mr Tony, the ex-military man.”
I watched them as they went away. On one hand, I was relieved and on the other hand I was still trembling from fear.
When the girls got far away, they turned and the pale one smiled and said, “sleep, mom. When you wake up, it will be fine.”
Maybe her words carried magic, because then, my legs gave up and I fell over. Before I passed out, though, I saw the street lights come back on and my phone turned on again.
Lucy.
When I woke up again, the sky was bright, though darkness still cast shadows of the electric poles and trees across the ground. I groaned and turned over on my back so I could look up at the clear sky. Every inch of my body ached badly and my head pounded twice as bad.
It didn’t take long before the horrors came back to me. I recalled everything: seeing two versions of my daughter, Vera, being chased by white, faceless ghosts, getting captured by a dark ghost and witnessing a fight between two ghost races.
It was just so surreal. Just like a dream. But I knew it wasn’t a dream because I felt the pains and the thumping of my heart, and I was lying outside the church building.
Soon, I heard footsteps and turned my head and saw a tall, dark-skinned man in a grey jacket that stopped at his knee walking over. The fear returned and I imagined the dark ghost appearing again. Frantic, I jumped to my feet and grabbed the metal pole that lay beside me. The pole still had the stains of dark blood and gore.
I aimed to swing, but the man raised his hands and shouted for me to stop. “What is wrong with you, sister?” he asked.
I stopped and lowered the beam, but only slightly. It could be another trick. I looked around, then turned to the man again. “Who are you?”
He smiled warily (probably still afraid of the weapon in my hand). “I’m pastor Godwin and this is my church. What happened to you, sister? Your face is covered with blood!”
I wipe my face. I didn’t feel fresh blood, but I felt crusted blood that had dried over my face. I kept my eyes at the pastor. “You were here last night in the church, weren’t you?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m only here to set things up for the morning prayers. Please, you need help.”
I shook my head and stepped away. This wasn’t right. It was the pastor I saw in the church last night and he’d transformed into the dark ghost. Or was it the dark ghost who’d taken his appearance? Then, I noticed something else too.
Last night, when the ghosts fought, there’d been chunks of flesh scattered everywhere and blood and maggots had been spilled on the ground. Looking around, I didn’t see any of that. It seemed like someone had painstakingly cleaned the whole place up. The only evidence that showed that those things actually happened was the black stains on my metal beam.
I dropped the beam. I saw my phone on the ground and picked it up hurriedly. “I’m sorry, pastor. I have to go.”
“Wait,” he said. “Are you sure? Do you want me to check that wound on your head?”
I shook my head. I’d gotten that wound when I rushed out of the house and fell down. I stumbled away. My phone lit up in my hand and I saw almost a hundred missed calls from Tim, my husband. I really didn’t have the strength to call back. I had to sort out my thoughts and feelings. I’m not sure the sort of psychological damage this ghost attack has done to me.
Soon, my weak legs carried me to the house (I had to run when I passed the little cemetery in our neighbourhood. I hesitated for a while before going in. The two girls were gone, but that left me worried. Where was my daughter? What happened to her?
When I got inside, I looked around carefully. My heart was pounding because I expected to see something worse. Maybe the ghosts had come back to wait for me or they’d come back in the night. I remember they said they’d find someone else to play with, but I won’t count on that.
(Hi, my name is Saviour Ibok, author. I’m the original writer of this story).
I checked from room to room, calling out my daughter’s name. After each empty room, my heart squeezed because a part of me was telling me she’d been taken the previous night. That would be worse than death to me. Last night, all the fear had made me forget to look for my daughter. Now, I was terrified for her safety.
Then, I went to the kitchen and checked. I found Vera curled up on the floor, sleeping. I stopped and my heart started pounding again. I won’t deny that I wanted to turn back and run. The events of last night still filled me with fear. The eyes of the two girls, their whispery voices, their cold hands. It shook me to the bones.
“Vera?” I called. It took three times before she woke up. When she saw me, she jumped to her feet. I too became scared so I grabbed a knife and held it out.
The girl frowned and stepped back. “Mom? What are you doing?”
“Stay back and tell me what happened to you,” I said. Last night, I had injured the two girls out of desperation. I wasn’t sure if I could do the same to this one standing before me. She looked normal.
The girl wiped her mouth. “See, if it’s because of the milk I drank last night, I’m sorry. After you didn’t let me watch TV, I came to the kitchen and drank all the milk to get back at you. The last thing I recall is slipping and falling. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
My hand slacked. I could see the defiance in her eyes; that arrogant stubbornness with which my daughter always looked at me when I talked to her. My husband said it was because I spoiled her too much.
At that moment, I didn’t care about spoiling. I just knew this was my daughter. She’d somehow been trapped in here while I ran for my life. I tossed the knife aside and rushed to hug her. It felt so normal. So calm.
“Mom? Why is your face bloody?” she asked.
I chuckled and wiped the tears that rolled down my face. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”
….
Tim.
I still had the will to live despite being trapped in a car with the ghost. Against my normal disgust, I picked one of the human heads and used it to pound the window while I shouted for help. My voice didn’t go out of the car, but I still tried.
As I kept hitting, the car came to a screeching halt and the ghost growled and turned to him. “This is the end of the road for you. I won’t kill you because I don’t have any more time to return to the world beyond. The sun is coming up. Ah, you’re one lucky man, my friend.”
I was confused. “What…do you mean?”
The ghost growled. “This experience will seem like a dream when the sun comes up, but it isn’t. You won’t find signs of anything that happened, no blood or dead bodies of ghosts. You see, when you’re chosen by the ghosts to be haunted, you’re shielded from the outside world so no matter how much you scream or run, no one would help you.
“It’s a perfect trap, but you’ve earned your life because you ran all night. But I’d have loved to eat you too. I think I’ll just make do with the bodies I have in the trunk.”
Hearing this didn’t make me less scared. This ghost was telling me so much and I wondered why. “I don’t understand. Why won’t you kill me anymore?” I know that at this point, such news would’ve made me jump in joy, but I was scared out of my senses. My brain was barely functioning right.
The ghost turned to face me, its rotten face twisting with hundreds of maggots. “I could kill you, but the sun is coming up. I won’t risk it. Get out of this car.”
I didn’t hesitate. I opened the door with trembling hands and got down. The car zoomed off again. I stood there, frozen for a while. Suddenly, all the street lights came back on and my phone turned on too.
That was when I knew the ghost hadn’t been joking. All the while, the ghosts had trapped me in a sort of situation where I couldn’t communicate or find help. It dawned on me how close I’d been to death. I thanked God.
Still trembling in horror, I dialled my wife’s number. She didn’t answer. I kept dialling over and over again. When I got no answer, I began to plan how to get home without any money. I think I lost my bank cards while I was running.
Soon, the sun came up and I once again saw normal people.
….
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