My Darkest Nights

Life in the village holds so many memories, each one beautied with nostalgia. Raised by my grandparents, every corner of our village held an unending story from different angles. I was 14 when my grandmother passed away and was laid to rest, it left me with only my grandfather, a man known to be disciplinarian and full of actions. He was the chief of our household, and spending my life with him and his tenants left great memories.

Mr. and Mrs. Okorie were my grandfather's tenants, they occupied the room adjacent to my late grandmother's. A faulty door hinge made the two rooms partially visible as one can peep through, prompting them to block the door with their mattress. My grandfather agreed to my spending every night with the Okories, a decision that left me with this mystery.

The Okories welcomed me into their family like I was one of their daughters, treating me as their own. Their three children became my closest friends. Sharing literally everything with me, sharing the same bed with the three girls, gave me a sense of comfort and belonging. Without knowing what would be befall me, I rushed for the backside near the spoiled door the first night and that spot became my own position.

But a terrifying incident interrupted my peaceful sleep one fateful night. It was a traditional for them sleeping in the dark. That particular night, I felt a presence, a ghost figure beckoning me from the ruined door hinge, in the dark room. A whispery "come, come, come" was all I heard as I felt someone reaching out a ghostly hand and beckoning with a hand gesture. I woke up terrified, my heart racing.

The spirit visits persisted night after night, overwhelming my entire body with fear, I was afraid to tell anyone about my experience for fear of mockery and charges of naivety. Alone with my panic, I turned to face the the girls in our common space in an attempt to be calm.

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I came up with a plan to play smart inorder to get my freedom from the spirit being. My tactic that kept me safe from the frightening touch of the spirit was to pretend to sleep and position myself in the middle of the bed, hoping someone else would take my place and my strategy worked.

Blessing's spot was the best one. Blessing is a cool person who won't put up with trying to move me to my spot or tapping on me to get up. Since it was all a pretense, I listened in on every conversation they had until it was time for them to go to bed. Immediately she walked to the bed, my prayer began and it worked as she laid at my position. It was then I breathed calmly.

We all laid having a quality sleep while she battled with the same thing I had been going through for the past three days. As she was groaning and the room was dark, she woke up immediately and shouted in a manner that woke everybody. After she narrated everything that night, I realized it wasn't my imagination playing with me but a reality of being haunted by a spirit being.

Checking the time it was past 2am, a time Africans tag dangerous, her mother began a serious midnight prayer invoking divine protection against the unseen menace. After the prayer session, which we all joined and finally ended around past 4am.

The haunted backside of the room became a place of fear, avoided by all of us but beggars can't be choosers, I was left to return to the position with nobody caring if I wanted to or not. Though our encounter with the spirit remained a mystery, our prayers brought an end to its ever show up, restoring calmness to our room.

The haunt taught me the importance of facing fear. As I look back on that chapter of my life, I find peace in knowing that even in the darkest of nights, the light of faith can send away even the most powerful evil spirits.

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