Tag Archive: ghost


Undeparted


“Susan Okpara is dead”

We sat shocked in the assembly hall, our minds trying to assimilate what we just heard.
Susan? Our Susan?
Susan the Head Girl. Susan the M.B.G. in Princess High.
Some of us did not believe it.
We refused to believe, even as we sat on the pews at her funeral, watching her covered coffin as a Bishop spoke about Life and Death.
It still did not…no… would not hit us as we watched her being laid into the ground.
We refused to let it hit us as her coffin was covered with sand, as we took handfuls from a mound; we knew we were just going through a ceremony.
The box is empty.
It had to be.
Susan is not inside.
She couldn’t be!

Susan Okpara is not dead.

Simple.

“Susan is not dead” Mr Ikon said authoritatively when we resumed the next week.
He glared at us, daring us to argue but no one was ready to.
He was her prized pupil.
Mr Ikon walked to her desk and pointed, finger trembling as he tried to control the tremor in his voice.
“Susan is not dead. She is here with us, sitting right here. We cannot treat her as dead”

That was how it begun.

We were willing to go along with it.

Susan wasn’t dead.

Her desk remained there for her.
We stuffed her assignment into them.
It didn’t matter to us that it was soon overflowing with papers.
We packed them neatly, writing her name on each one and storing in her metal locker.

Her name remained on the register and I personally signed her in every morning.

We reserved a seat for her for school trips.

She was the prom queen and her crown was put on her seat.

It was graduation day and for the first time, we forgot about Susan.

“Everybody come together. Now smile. Say cheese”

We smiled as the flash blinded our eyes for three second

Two weeks later, my graduation pictures came.
I smiled as I looked through them.
The last was the panoramic view of all the graduating students.
I smiled as I identified everyone.

My eyes glanced over myself…and stopped.

My heart stopped.

Then redoubled.

I closed my eyes.

I opened them, blinking rapidly.

I looked back at the picture,

No, i was not mistaken.

Behind me, Susan stood in her school uniform.

Her skin seemed translucent; faded.

Lips stretched wide into a smile that didn’t reach her cold, dead eyes that glared out at the camera.

My hands shook, my breathing coming in gasps.

I looked at her hands.

They held my shoulders.

No, not held.

They clawed at my shoulders as if trying to rip my arms out of their sockets.

A whimper escaped from me.
The photograph fluttered away from my hand and dropped on the bed.

Sweat rolled off my brows and I brought out my phone, shakily trying to dial Lola’s number.

Just at that moment, I felt it.

I felt a hand pull on my shoulders.

I turned violently, jumping off the bed, eyes wide with terror.

No one was there.

My throat clogged as I picked my phone quickly and dashed for the toilet.

“Oh God” I whimpered as I locked myself in.

I sat down on the toilet lid, fingers slipping off my keypad as I tried to get Lola’s number from my phone book.

I wiped my hand rapidly on my thighs, trying to control my breathing as sweat into my eyes,  listening to the phone ring.

I licked my dry lips anxiously.

“Hello! Oh my God Feng was just about to call you! Did you hear what happened? Mr Ikon is dead!!”

My brain slowed to a crawl.

“Hello? Feng? Feng? What is it? You crying? ‘Cause of Mr Ikon? No? Feng what happened!?”

I took a deep breath.

“L..Lola…”

“Yes? Talk!”

“L..Lola..Susan…”

“Huh?”

“SUSAN IS NOT DEAD!”

As I spoke frantically to her, I felt it again.

Hands gripping the back of my neck.

I screamed, phone dropping off my trembling hands and clattering to the floor.

“Why didn’t you people let me die?”

—————————————————————————

Hey!
So, this was first scribbled after i finished watching an anime, Another. Served as an inspiration for this story and if you watch it, you’d know why.
I’d recommend to fans of animation. Yes, it is Japanese but hey, I think the Japanese tell the best horror stories.

That being said, hope you have a lovely weekend and Eid Mubarak to my Muslim readers!

Jana!

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The Mortician


I sat in my inner office, biting on the sorry end of a pencil as I stared intently at a document. Figures swam in my eyes and I sighed. We were barely managing to stay afloat from the state of the account books. I dropped the pencil and removed my glasses, rubbing my eyes laboriously.
I really shouldn’t have given Patty a day off. Patty, my able assistant and Saviour on days like this when my brain refused to cooperate with me.
I sighed again, closing the file and keeping it for later when I heard a chime at the outside entrance signifying that someone had entered into my small establishment. I stood quickly, tucking my shirt in and straightening my tie, I walked out of my office to receive a customer.

A tall but somewhat diminished man stood, unsure of himself looking at the empty front desk where Patty should have been. He didn’t notice my silent entrance. I cleared my throat to get his attention and when he turned, I took in his appearance. His clothes hung off him loosely as if it unsure whether to mould to his skin or not; decrepit clothes of dull greys and browns. He sported a buzz-cut, dark hair greying at corners, his face rugged and bearded. His hands fascinated me; huge, callused things that spoke volumes about his menial type of job. His dark eyes were flinty, piercing mine when i looked at them. I dropped my eyes quickly. From my examination, he wasn’t a rich man.
I sighed inwardly. How was I going to get ahead if I could only net these sort of people?
I put on a bright smile and presented my hand to be shaken. he stared at it and ignored it.
I swallowed my slight irritation.
“Hello and welcome to Dante’s Mortuary ” I said affecting good cheer. His eyes roved the front office as I spoke to him.
“Is this a mortician’s place?” he asked in a dry voice that sounded like gravel pieces grated themselves somewhere in his larynx. I smiled at the question.
I got it a lot because of the bright and tasteful décor of the office. People always expect something dark and grey when they hear the word ‘Mortician’ and so being thrust into a vibrant office always threw them off.
“Yes it is and I am the man in charge” I added helpfully.
I felt his eyes go over me and I bore his examination with good grace. A few seconds passed and he didn’t say anything.
“So…” I started “You need my services?”
He nodded. “Are you good?”
I smiled unsure of how to answer. “Yes Sir. I can assure you I am excellent at my job. I would want to show you my past works but I’m sure they’re rotting in the grave right now”
I flashed him a brilliant smile which he answered with an impassive look. My smile died. Poor taste in joke?
“Well…I am good” I finished limply, suddenly unsure of how to continue the conversation.
“She was a beautiful woman.” he whispered, eyes far away. His eyes focused back on me. “I want to make sure she looks good. Good for viewing”
I nodded sagely. “Of course Sir.”
“Money is no object” he added and I reappraised him, curiously. Well! I grinned.
“Of course Sir. We give our clients expert services which they can testify to. Or not.”
“She was very beautiful” he whispered, eyes faraway again.

We stood there in silence, him arms by his sides distant; me, arms folded primly behind me, twisting my toes in my shoes with growing impatience.
Suddenly his attention returned. “She was a looker. She must look that way. Make sure of that.” he said sharply as if rebuking me and I snapped to attention.
“Of course Sir! May I inquire her name and when she died?” I asked.
He stared at me for a second too long, making me suddenly uncomfortable.
“Her name was…is Martha”
He smiled small. “I’ll fill out the necessary documents when I bring her.”
He turned to leave then stopped just at the door.
“As to when she died…” he paused, licking his lips. “It would be as soon as I get home” he whispered.
Without a backwards glance, left my office.
It took me several seconds for the import of his words to reach me. I gasped, swallowing hard. My mind was in turmoil.
“Maybe I heard wrongly” I whispered remembering he had said money was no object.
I needed funds. Badly.
I swallowed and walked back into my inner office.
“Maybe I heard wrongly”

He was right, she was a beautiful woman.
I stared at her lovely face slightly marred by death, fingers stroking her full dark hair. Her eyes were closed, thankfully.
Sometimes they were brought in with their eyes open. The emptiness usually made me shudder. It didn’t help that I enjoyed working on them late at night when there was quiet.
“What a pity” I whispered. “What a beautiful loss…”
“Maybe you heard wrongly?” a voice asked.
I jumped, startled.
I was alone. I laughed softly running my fingers through my hair. Fatigue.
“Or maybe you heard me wrongly?”
I jumped again, eyes glancing widely. “Who..what?”
My eyes fell on her face and watched in horror as her stiff lips stretched into a smile.
“Ah… Now you hear me… But you heard him wrongly…right?” the feminine voice drawled into my ear.
My legs shook and I stumbled, voiding my bowel on my trousers.
“Let’s make sure you really heard wrongly… Let’s make sure…”
A tug; sharp blooming pain.
I screamed.

***********************************************

Patty walked into the office the next morning and dropped her bags on her desk.
“Harry! Morning!” she called out.
She got no answer.
She frowned and walked into his office. She had noticed the lights on. Odd in itself, it meant he was in.
His office was empty.
“Ah. He’s working then”
She walked to the door opposite his office and knocked. “Hey Harry! I’m in!”
Silence greeted her.
Frowning she opened the door and walked in.
The smell hit her before the sight did.
Her eyes widened and she gagged, choking on a scream.
Harry was splayed on the floor, scalpel clutched in one bloodied hand, his ears clutched in the other.
On a slab, the unsmiling face of a beautifully dead woman.

A Haunting


Presenting for the first time here, @NateOblivion!!!!! Do enjoy!

————–

Scratch.
Scratch.
*pause*
Scratch….

The infuriating sound had begun again. That incessant scratching that seemed to emanate from deep within the walls, deprived her of sleep and slowly hacked away at her sanity, piece by piece. She sat awake, head held between her arms, rocking back and forth on the white linen sheet. She’d fumigated the house three times in the past two months, but nothing seemed to stop the noise that had been keeping her awake since they had moved into this house in the more salubrious part of Victoria Island six months ago.

Linda’s eyes were bloodshot for lack of sleep and her temper seemed to flare up at the slightest provocation nowadays. She’d already lost one job for yelling at her boss when he pushed her buttons too hard, and so far she’d been caught sleeping on the clock twice at the new one. The school grades of Jumoke, her teenage daughter, was abysmal; a sharp contrast from the straight A’s she’d so easily maintained. Her abusive husband had died (Thank God!) and she used the money he’d left them to buy their luxurious four bedroom house and since then, their lives slowly crumbled around them. Emmanuel, her new love and fiancé, had been there to support them throughout, but he was too caught up in planning their wedding, which was only weeks away.

It had seemed like such a wise decision that day. The house seemed to call out to her, like it had been waiting for her for so long, a haven free of the constant complaining, the blows that had rained on her since forever, a place where she could forget what had happened with David. A place where she and Jumoke could start a new life. Now their fortress had become a personal hell, a torture chamber. The scratching increased in intensity, resounding through the house. She rocked even faster, shaking her head and mumbling to herself. Unable to bear the noise any longer, she bolted from the bed and dashed to the wall and banged it fiercely like a woman deranged. She screamed as she thudded on it repeatedly, cursing loudly. Suddenly, everything went black.

It only took a few seconds to adjust to the vessel, for every part of It’s essence to diffuse through its entirety. Soon enough, it had full control and began to see through it’s eyes. It broke into a smile and began to march towards the other room as though entranced.
The child sat up at the sound of the door.
“Mummy?” she called, her voice tinged with apprehension. “The noise has started again, and it’s scaring me.”
“It’s okay, darling. It’s gone. I’m here now.” It said, in the woman’s light voice.
The child lay back down and turned away. It surveyed her petite frame. She looked so frail, so delicate. When the child had drifted off to sleep, It rose and grabbed the pillow and put it over her head, holding it in a vice like grip. It smothered her, delighting in her muffled screams. She kicked and writhed under the pillow, thrashing about wildly, but It held on till the kicking stopped and the body between its legs lay still. It looked into her cold dead eyes and with a contented grin, vacated the host.

Linda stared in horror at Jumoke’s lifeless body. She looked even more horrified at the pillow she grasped tightly in her hands which she dropped as if it were a poisonous snake. What had she done! She shook her violently and screamed her name at the top of her lungs, her voice choked with tears. Jumoke remained unresponsive, her frightened eyes, fixed with the glassy glare of death. She fell to the floor, rolling and wailing. There was no way to explain it. She must have finally snapped under the pressure and taken it out on her only daughter. She was a murderer, a heartless one at that! She’d killed her husband, and though it was in self defense, it was still murder. Now she had killed her daughter. Her only reason for living was gone. Numbed by grief, she walked down to the utility room, grabbed a rope and fashioned it into a noose as she walked back to her daughter’s room. She gazed into her dead girl’s eyes one more time, to remind herself the reason for her decision. Closing her eyes, she whispered a prayer she knew would not be accepted; not if everything she’d been taught was true. She hung the noose from the ceiling fan and placed a chair below it. She tightened the rope around her neck. With her eyes tightly shut, she thought about Emmanuel and how devastated he would be that about their death. He deserved an explanation. Linda started to loosen the knot on the noose when the chair was suddenly and forcibly kicked out from under her. She panicked and clawed at the rope around her neck. The pain compounded as her trachea closed off, vision swimming. She stretched her toes downwards but she was too short, she tried to swing towards Jumoke’s bed frame but each try only tightened the knot. On her fourth try, her neck snapped. A few wild twitches, and Linda knew no more.

David looked down on their bodies; his daughter’s on the bed, his wife’s dangling from the fan. Gratification flooded his ephemeral being at finally getting even with the worthless woman he’d called his wife, even though it was at the expense of his daughter’s life. She’d broken the blood oath they had undertaken so many years ago, when they were young and drunk on love; an oath to belong to no one but him. Oh how she tempted him sorely! With those slutty dresses she wore and how she blushed when men ogled her body. He made sure he punished her for every little betrayal. She thought he hated her but he loved her, more than she’d ever comprehend. She thought she’d escaped him but even death wasn’t enough to break their bond. Bound to the very blood that coursed her veins, he followed her to her new house, where he waited, hoping she would not go through with her proposed wedding. There was no way he would allow another man have his wife, his property or father his child. He would rather have them join him, where they could be a family again. He grinned. Family forever. But he knew there was a price to pay. He could already feel himself being pulled apart, the darkness rushing in, the glittering teeth of the demons that’d come to mete his eternal punishment.
He welcomed them in.

The End.

And there you have it. Special thanks goes to @nateoblivion for sharing his story with me. You can read more of his works at PTS
Do leave your comments! Thanks!

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