A Bone-Chilling Terrifying Tale

I remember that day like it was yesterday. It was a cool Sunday evening. The stars were shining brightly, and the moon whispered good things in the sky. There was something different about the atmosphere. It was special, yet uncomfortable. It was a mixture of different feelings. The breeze was as cold as ice, gently massaging my skin and sending shivers down my spine. For a few minutes, I went numb and breathless. It wasn’t after two cups of water that I came back to my normal self.

Okay! Enough! Let me back the story up a little. It was the day after my exams. I was not feeling well because I was stressed out during the exam period. I love good grades and I always do anything in my power to make sure I get them. Most times, I stress myself out. I go to night classes and burn late-night candles. I pushed myself so far that I fell sick. I was so weak that I didn’t have the strength to do anything. Thanks to my roommates who were there to help.

It was a Sunday. I didn’t go to church that day because I was sick. I was so weak that I couldn’t even play football; my favorite sport. We play football in my hostel every Sunday. But, that day, I couldn’t play. After the football match, some of my hostel mates came to my room to spend time with me. We started talking about different things; exams, school, ladies, relationships, and so on. The conversation was boring until someone changed the subject. We suddenly moved from things about the physical realm to talks about the spiritual realm. One thing about me is that things about the spiritual realm get me terrified. I Love watching horror movies, but it’s a whole different story when people start telling me their scary dreams or spooky encounters. I know it’s weird, right? I can comfortably watch a horror movie at midnight and sleep comfortably, but it’s a whole different story when someone tells me a scary dream. I won’t be able to sleep properly and might even end up dreaming about the same stuff.

Source

The guy started the conversation with a question. He asked us if we’ve ever seen or had experience with witches and if we have ever seen them in our dreams. We are Africans. As far as Africa is concerned, witches are real in most parts of the continent. Nigeria, my country is not different. The guy told us about his experience when he was in high school. After they left, I thought about his story and discovered a few lapses. He probably made up the story, but the way he narrated it made it extremely believable. When he was in secondary school (JSS1), he and his classmates decided to take a bold leap and jump over the school’s gate to explore a thick bush. They go there every time to cook and play. That day, while playing, a short woman with a black pot on her head came out of nowhere and was walking towards them. It wasn’t until she got very close to them that they all scrammed.

I have an amazing way of imagining things. As the guy was telling us his experience, I was creating vivid images to match up his story. I pictured what the woman would look like. To fit his story, I added tribal marks on her face. When this guy was done with his story, another hostel mate stood up to tell us about the night he lost his grandmother. I didn’t want him to tell us, but I was just too weak to say anything. Just like the other guy, his story-telling technique is also very nice. I got so soaked up in his story that I forgot that I was sick.

His grandmother was his best friend. They ate together, worked together, and even slept on the same bed. His parents work in different states, and he has been living with his grandmother since he was a kid. The night his grandmother passed on was scary for me. According to him, the night was cold. Dogs were barking continuously. It was as if the mischievous breeze was trying to say something. The windows seemed enchanted in an uncontrollable dance and kept opening and closing. He finally stood up to close the windows. When he got there, he saw his late grandmother. Maybe her spirit, reflection, or something. He told us that he wasn’t scared because he knew his grandmother came to say her final goodbyes.

After the story, they all left and I was alone with my roommate who was already fast asleep. I couldn’t get my mind off the story. I imagined what his grandmother looked like. I had millions of questions. What was she wearing? Was she wearing a white robe? Did she look happy? After about 30 minutes of thinking about these things, I dozed off. Suddenly, I heard a creak on my door, I turned my face in that direction and I could’ve sworn that I saw a figure. I jumped up immediately. My heart was racing like a cheetah. I started sweating profusely. I woke my roommate up, but I didn’t tell him what I saw. I only told him to help me switch on the lamp because I didn’t want to sleep in darkness.