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Wednesday, August 12, 2020

The haunted home

The haunted home


By London Lucky Talbot

There was a mystery behind my father's death. A man who died by cutting his belly open with a knife and dragging out his guts into a cooking pot while he's still alive.
He shrieked in pain but he couldn't stop himself. It was as if there was a demon standing right beside him and telling him what to do by using him as a weapon to slaughter himself.
My mum changed after she gave birth to my baby sister. She was different, she was eerie; she stopped praying like usual, she barely talked to anyone, and whenever I pray out loud from my room, she would be so irked that she'll growl at me and sometimes beat me to a pulp, and my dad was always there like a statue, never saying a word.
I came back from school one burning afternoon and when I got home, I saw people gathered in twos and threes with their arms folded across their chests in my compound holding my mother and sympathising with her, but my mum wasn't crying, neither was my father.
I asked what was going on and they said that my baby sister was found dead inside a mortar pounded to a thick liquid in our backyard.
I found it so bizarre. I was devastated, I couldn't do my homeworks for weeks and I kept hearing my baby sister cry in the middle of every night.
My mum didn't show any emotions of a mother who had just lost her child, and my dad, was just there like a TV, he talks only when my mum permits.
Everything in the house was terrifying; the TV which keeps showing only dead people that I know including my little sister; the heavy book my mum talks to every night; the doors and windows that creak in every ungodly hour of the night; the strange Voices we hear and the noise that always comes from the kitchen in the middle of every night as if someone is making a meal.
I was trapped in a cage of trepidation.
Then, one night I had a dream about my mum telling me she had missed me, but I couldn't fathom anything from it. I mean my mum was with me in the same house, not like she's dead or something.
I woke up when I heard noises coming from the kitchen. I sprang up dauntlessly and tiptoed to the kitchen door. I leaned my head against the door as I eavesdropped, and I heard my mum commanding my dad to cut his belly open into a pot while she watched.
I was bloodcurdling so hard that I almost betrayed my presence by shivering uncontrollably.
I peeved through the tiny gaps in-between the door and I saw my dad horrendously cutting his stomach open and dragging out his guts into a big antique pot.
He was in severe pain, but he couldn't stop himself.
I looked again and I saw my mum standing beside him with sharp claws. But I looked again and that wasn't my mum, my mum wasn't an old woman with brown crooked teeth, bushy gray hair and wrinkled face.
With the horror before my eyes, I screeched out so loud that the old woman in guise of my mother disappeared into the tin air never to be seen again. She wasn't expecting any of that.
Then, tears ran in rivulet down my cheeks seeing my dad lying dead in a pool of blood.
I never knew she wasn't my mum all along. My mum had died while giving birth to my baby sister while this old witch possessed her body to turn our home into a haunted house.

# fiction .
# Ikemefuna .
London Lucky Talbot

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