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Stats: 2,185,707 members, 4,765,836 topics. Date: Monday, 18 February 2019 at 03:55 AM
GHOST READER And RIDDERS (A Paranormal Anecdote) By Emperical Ink / The Marked:white Sight_the In Between_a Nigerian Paranormal Fantasy Fiction Book / Grabbing The Hot Gate ( A Paranormal Novel) By Akintayo Akinjide (2) (3) (4)
|TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 4:09pm On Aug 23, 2018|
When Tella, a music teacher arrives in Oyo, she intends to pay her last respect to her grandfather.
However, when she spends the night in her grandfather's house, she finds herself drawn to a guitar in his old store room.
Within days, strange things starts happening around her, but what could possibly go wrong just for pulling the strings of guitar?
Coming soon by 9pm
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 4:10pm On Aug 23, 2018|
Nostradamus could you please mention a few paranormal or fantasy stories here? Thanks.
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 12:25am On Aug 24, 2018|
The year 2004 ended with loud cracks of colourful fireworks that burst through the dark night and bloomed amongst the stars.
I giggled at my parent's lack of decency as they clung unto one another. I could tell they were whispering sweet things to each other's ears because each time my father said something, my mother laughed. In my thirteen-year-old mind, whatever they were saying was less important to me. I wanted to show off the colourful hair bands my mother got me to my friends.
"Tèllà," my mother called as she pulled away from my father. Grinning, she waved her hands, urging me to come forward.
My parents weren't the only ones excited about the new year; members of our church greeted one another happily. Parents hugged their and for a moment, a twinge of jealousy hit me and I couldn't help but wish my parents would have more children. A younger sibling to play with would be nice. But deep down, I knew it was impossible. I once overheard my parents discussing her PCOS issue, and I couldn't understand what it meant until years later. My mother had a secondary infertility problem. It was normal to be unhappy, but my father words always echoed in my mind, 'be thankful for what you have'
Nodding my head, I pushed the painful thoughts away before running towards them. The humidity in the air rushed through my nostrils as the wind rippled through my clothes. As soon as I got close to them, I jumped, causing them to chuckle with amusement.
After some minutes of having a talk with the pastor about their plans for the church's orphanage, my parents and I walked back to our vehicle and we made our way into the busy highway.
First days of every year were the best. Everywhere glittered with fire works, street lights and decorations from Christmas. People were always nice to one another and one could feel the festivity in the air. Maybe people were nice because they were thankful for making it into the new year. Maybe its just the joy of the thrill that comes with the new year, either way, every January first were the best days for me.
It took about ten minutes drive from the Akala highway down to Oluode area. When we finally turned into the bumpy road that led to Oluyole street, a small car ahead of us jerked a few times then slowed, blocking any car that would go in or out. Two people came out from the vehicle. A bulky, tall man dressed in jalabia and a woman wearing a white jalabia and black scarf covering the face walked towards the front of their car.
"What are they doing?" My father asked, not referring to anyone in particular. He squinted his eyes as he slowed down too.
"We should check on them," my mother replied. "Their car must have broken down. Téllà, stay back."
She said and got down too.
From behind, rays of torchlight flashed into the vehicle as soon as my parents came down. By the time I looked back, another car was already parked behind us and two men got out. One of them has my father's slender frame while the other was plainly gaunt. It wasn't unusual to see people go in and out of the street but when they looked unkempt, it raised alarm. I looked out the window, but before getting a closer look at those two, gunshots as loud as a thunder cracked into the air. That moment, I knew it came from one direction.
Freezing and swallowing hard, I took in what just happened. At the distance ahead, two men argued and upon glancing towards the direction of their voices, I realised the first two people that got down from the vehicle right in front of my parent's, weren't a couple. They were both men. Soon, light footsteps approached both from ahead and behind.
"E be like say one pikin dey inside," one hoarse voice spoke.
A figure hidden in the shadows pointed the flashlight at my face, blinding me from seeing there face -- thanks to NEPA who didn't make power available on a new year-- all I saw was a shadow.
"Pikin dey here true true o. Shey make we finish am too?" another man drawled. I could tell the voice belonged to the one pointing a torchlight at me.
Tears flowed down my cheeks as so many thoughts went through my mind.
Will today be my last day?
As if my face was immersed in a pool, my breathing became deeper. Counting in my head for the moment the gun would go off, I shut my eyes but no gun sound went off.
"Na the man and his wife be our problem. Leave the pikin make we comot," another voice shouted, and that's where the flaky memory shattered.
My parents were dead; a promising real estate agent and a caterer's life cut short. Baba Oyo, my grandfather, died in his sleep and his burial service turned out like I pictured it to be. A sermon slower than a keke napep, taking just as many unnecessary digressions, a poor quality pamphlet which contained depressing hymns.
"Tèllà, someone elbowed me by the side.
I turned to see my husband looking at me with a scowl plastered on his face.
"You're next," he said in his usual monotonous tone.
I glanced around to see people's eyes on me. They gave me a look I could understand quite well - pity. Thinning my lips into an angry line, I brushed my palm over my face.
What could their pity do? Bring my parents back? Provide enough money to organize a befitting burial for my grandfather? What could they offer me?
I stood up, watching my feet take steps across the glossy tiles towards the altar. Taking my time, I glanced back at the faces before me then returned my gaze to the pamphlet in my hand.
"Baba Oyo became a mother and father when I was thirteen," I said in a low voice then coughed to make it louder. "... not one day did he complain about how much of a burden I was."
The pamphlet in my hands shook along with my entire body. I couldn't hear a tiniest bit of whisper but I could feel every pair of eyes on me.
"When my parents left this unfair world, Baba Oyo-- my grandfather suffered a great loss."
I couldn't help but stumble over the word loss. God knew my family suffered too much losses. One of my grandfather's brother, a seventy-two-year-old, died only two months ago from injuries sustained from a fall. The doctors said it couldn't heal due to his diabetes. But, it still baffled me he died not long after the injury. I was no medical personnel, so it was hard to tell if the wound truly killed him or it was just the series of unfortunate events that clung onto our family. My grandmother died when I was fourteen, just a year after my own parents lost their lives. Rumour has it that Mr Egbeola, one of my father's business partners, hired men to kill both my parents.
All those were losses. Great losses!
The worst thing was the fact that people tagged our family as the cursed people with one offspring. It's sad, yet true. My grandparents had only my mother. My grandfather's younger brother has similar issues, just a child. I've got my fair share of the curse too. After all, my daughter was a sickle cell patient and I didn't want to have more kids because of my fear of having more children like her, and there you go, my family was cursed.
"He's dependable and was a constant supporting pillar to everyone around him," at that moment, I looked at the crowded church of mourners before making eye contact with my husband, who wore his emotionless expression as if it was an accessory he'd die if he didn't wear.
I still wonder why he came to the burial service. Ayoni never liked my grandfather, and he did a good job keeping us apart once we got married until Baba's death. There were times Baba sent me tons of messages to come home, but Ayoni won't let me. Obviously, he didn't come around to support me out of love. He only came so as to let people off his back. These days, he barely even paid me attention, talk more of showing me affection.
His dark eyes stared at me as he scratched the back of his neck. Desperate to break the stare contest between us, I looked to the other side of the church. Letting out a deep breath, I looked back at the pamphlet and tried to finish the scripted speech.
"Sun re Baba Oyo," I rambled through the last words of the speech before getting off the church alter in my flat shoes.
Instead of going back to my seat, next to Ayoni and our daughter, Anu, I continued down the middle of the church, passing between the rows of benches until the warm afternoon air grazed my face. Although, August came with persistent rainfall, the sky, a feathery shade of white looked good enough for a burial ceremony. I could only hope it'd stay that way until the end of the event. There was little to no money for a good party, an heavy downpour would worsen things for me.
Standing under the porch of the church, I searched for my phone then dialed the caterer I hired to cook for a few guest. But before it rang, heavy footsteps caught my attention.
"You should be inside," Ayoni said behind me. His deep voice lacked the life it used to have back when things were normal between us.
Am I so boring he has to use that tone? I wondered but didn't dare confront him. It would result in a big fight. One I was bound to loose. So instead of arguing, I stood up like the obedient wife and walked back into the church with him trailing behind.
Inside, the sermon already ended and people gathered in groups. A few people wore the blue Ankara I sold to them as aso ebi, but majority wore different native attires. When my eyes landed on recognisable faces which includes my old classmates back in secondary school days, I approached and thanked them for taking out of their time to pay their last respect to my grandfather.
Baba Arogangan my grandfather's best friend whom he used to share kola nuts and palm wine with didn't take his death well. He shed tears as I thanked him for his monetary contribution. He didn't come around for the burial. Mostly because he couldn't contain his grieve.
After burying my grandfather --- within his compound like he instructed me years ago --- feeding people who came for the reception and seeing Ayoni off to the park on his insistence to return to Ibadan without any reason, I laid next to my daughter and cried uncontrollably.
For a man as old as Baba Oyo, he died at the right age. It called for celebration but what was the use of celebrating when he has no children to survive him. The old man lived an unfulfilled life. I didn't want such life.
Signing, I yawned and shut my eyes, but after a few minutes, my eyes flew open. At first, I was unsure what to make of the noise, and it took longer than usual for me to detect where it came from. It sounded like tiny pebbles were thrown at the wall but soon escalated to ceramics shattering against the wall.
Is someone in the house?
My heart thumped against my chest. I swallowed hard and glanced through the window. The light of the day has faded away into a darkening blue haze. Although, the frogs croaked loudly, it didn't cover up the strange sounds. As if whoever was disrupting the house moved from the kitchen to the sitting room, a scraping sound echoed throughout the house.
Trying not to shake, I looked back at my daughter who slept before taking a bold step out of bed. I found my grandfather's walking stick next to the bed and thought it would be useful to destabilize the person disrupting the house. My walk through the dark corridor didn't come as an easy task but it didn't stop me from walking further.
When I made my way into the living room, the only source of light came from the rays of of the moon. With my heart beating against my chest and my legs shaking as if they were pinned in a bucket of ice, I half expected a jobless youth would be standing next to the television, trying to steal it away. Instead, two white orbs shined through the darkness. It flickered like a dull fluorescent light, but soon brightened. I stood glued to a spot confused and scared at how this was possible.
What was holding these orbs?
They looked like someone's eyes, yet were too large to fit into any sockets. As the orbs approached me, I moved back into the passage. The urge to run lingered in my mind, but if I ran whatever it was would chase after me. Besides Anu was inside the room.
What if it attacks her? ---
"The song..." a voice echoed, piercing my eardrums and sounding like there were millions of people in the living room with me.
Four more orbs beamed through the darkness. At that moment, my eyes stayed glued to those orbs. I tried to stop myself from looking, but the more I tried, the more I got weak.
"The song..." came another whisper before the light flashed on.
"Thank goodness," I exhaled and inwardly prayed for PHCN then looked towards the direction of the orbs.
They are gone!
Releasing another sigh, I turned to leave but a loud thud made me jump a mile in the air. Whirling around, I prayed the orbs weren't back. Where the noise came from, I couldn't tell but then another thud echoed behind the closed doors of the room next to the dinning table. With large lump in my throat, I tiptoed towards the door. For all I knew, the white orbs could have reappeared in the store room, but once I switched on the bulb, nothing out of the ordinary sprang up.
The room was filled with different travelling bags. My eyes darted to the floor and next to a red bag was a guitar. I was unsure if it was all in my head, but I could've sworn the instrument started vibrating until my hands touched it.
Hey guys. Here's a new one! The next episode will be up on Saturday 11pm.
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by Treasurewamiri(f): 11:46pm On Aug 25, 2018|
It's 11:45pm yet no update, kilode? Hope you're good OP?
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 5:39pm On Aug 26, 2018|
I have my first comment. #Dancing
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 5:44pm On Aug 26, 2018|
Every morning was the same.
A crushing pain just on one side of my head that came and went in a pattern. The events of the previous night didn't help matters too. I still couldn't understand what caused the noise in the house. I was starting to believe the whole superstitious thing about dead people coming around to disrupt the house to get the attention of a living family member.
Was it my grandfather's spirit? If it was, what could he possibly want from me?
And after seeing those two white orbs, I started to feel someway, somehow, my grandfather's spirit was really lurking around and scaring me to death.
Asides what happened the previous night, the trauma I've had to experience in my dreams every single day gave me headaches. Even after so many years, the men who killed my parents were still there, in my dreams. Deliberating to kill me or let me be. My nights were torments that must be endured.
Next to me, Anu slept on her chest; her thin arms rested above her head as her legs sprawled at different angles. At least for now, she wasn't sick until the next crisis. Just a month ago, Ayoni and I rushed our daughter to the children's ward, in a government hospital because of an episode. She used weeks in the hospital causing our bills to pile up.
Taking in a deep breath, I glanced towards the open window. The sun barely rose and the room moderately oozed warmth. Outside, the rain drummed on the window pane. As I sat up from bed, my eyes fleeted to the old ruan instrument tilted next to the bed. Back when both of my parents were alive, and went for Christmas holidays at my grandfather's, he loved to playing his ruan. There were times I tried to play it, but he forbade me from playing and bought me a flute.
At that moment, a strong urge to play the ruan enveloped me and on impulse I picked it. As I brushed my fingers over the strings halfway between the sound hole and the bridge, the image of my grandfather --- sitting on a stool --- outside his house flashed through my mind, and before I knew it, my fingers brushed the strings of the ruan and so, an ice cold ran through my finger tips.
My eyes widened as if the ruan had just turned into a snake. First, it vibrated the previous night as I got closer to it and now this.
Trying to calm myself, I released a loud breath. "You're imagining things Téllà. Baba's death is affecting you."
But am I really imagining things?
Pushing the thoughts behind my mind, I dropped the instrument and got up, but somehow, my eyes kept returning to the instrument. The desire to pick it just like the previous night enveloped me, and giving me no time to stop myself. I picked up the instrument, but this time nothing out of the ordinary happened.
Of course, I must've imagined things.
As I played, it was as if the my world spun in a blur, my life experiences flashed in my head. Singing Baba's song brought back painful memories; ones I'll like to forget. I dropped the instrument and let tears flow from my eyes.
These days everything evoked my emotions. My financial status was one, Anu's health was another and my marriage was a bigger problem; Baba's death was just the final blow.
"I pray things get better," I whispered, picked my small phone then stepped out.
The compound was hazardous than I imagined. Remnants of amala and ewedu were left on the plates, and pure water sachet were dumped on the grass.
I busied myself with gathering, washing plates and by the time I was done, the early morning sun was now shinning bright. The heat would melt ori in minutes if left outside.
Shielding away the impact of the sun with my hands, I made my way to the bedroom to find Anu already seated on the bed. She scratched around her eyes and when my six year old saw me, her face brightened.
A surge of joy radiated through me as I watched her jump from the bed and ran towards me.
"Mummy I'm hungry," Anu said in a croaky voice as I lifted her to my shoulder.
"Pele my baby," I cooed and picked on the flakes of catarrh on her nose. "Shey you will drink pap with akara?"
Soon as I stepped into the street, my nostrils were invaded with the smell of exhaust fumes from moving vehicles. Aborerin always bubbled with life. It still hasn't changed since the last time I visited in Oyo. On both sides of the road; provision stores, hairdressing saloons and food vendors littered the whole place.
At a distance, Iya Ibeji, who was known for her incessant need for gossip walked towards me as she pressed her phone. On impulse, I crossed to the other side of the street and prayed she won't see me. It's been years I saw her until the previous day, during the reception. She kept asking questions that showed age wanted to know things going on in my life, but I came up with an excuse and avoided her all through the party.
For a woman close to her fifties, I couldn't help but wonder if she ever got tired of gossiping about people. For Iya Ibeji, it doesn't matter. As long as it's a gossip, her ears will perk up.When I was in secondary, her twin daughters, Taiye and Kehinde, were my classmates. They never say nasty things about people. The two hardly talked in class and so was unbelievable Iya Ibeji raised two reasonable children.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw her look up from her phone then looked towards my direction.
"Please don't call me," I whispered and walked faster.
"Is this not Tella?" She asked loud enough for me to hear, but it didn't stop me from pretending not to hear her.
She shouted again.
I stopped in my tracks then whirled around to see Iya Ibeji crossing the street towards me. The woman already saw me and she wouldn't stop shouting my name until we have a little chat.
"Ehn en," she clapped her hands. "I knew it was you."
"Ha! Mummy," I knelt down and Anu followed suit. "Good morning ma."
"How are you ré," she smiled and glanced towards Anu. "A ku éyin Baba oyo."
"Yes ma... thank you ma," I said and started to walk away but she held me by the arm.
"Is this your daughter?"
My neck stiffened.
"Eyah. Fine girl how are you ré," the skin around her eyes wrinkled as she smiled. "But you need to feed her more o. She is too thin. Abi she's sick ni."
I narrowed my eyes and gritted my teeth. From the effort to remain silent, my face heat up quickly.
What is wrong with this woman?
But instead of speaking a word, I nodded and left her standing.
In thirty minutes, I returned to my grandfather's house, fed Anu with akara and pap before busying myself with cleaning the living room.
The living room air was musty and dust covered some of the picture frames hanging on the brown walls. Most of those picture were of my grandfather, grandmother and my mother when she was very young.
Minutes after the cleaning, I stepped into the store room through the corridor that led to two other rooms in the house. The previous night, after hearing the shattering noises of plates from the kitchen and noises from the store room, I picked the ruan, ignored the large bags then checked the kitchen. Surprisingly, no plates were broken. But now, I was hope there'd be some useful things to sell or give out.
A thick layer of dust covered the whole room and it didn't spare the bags too. Every of my movement sent a vortex of dust into the air. With the window now opened, the dusty particles reflected the sun-rays taking on the appearance of glitter. I pulled my clothes over my nose to prevent myself from inhaling anything which would irritate my throat, and unzipped the closest bag and peered inside. It contained gardening tools. As I checked another traveling bag a loud knock boomed through the house.
"Who's that?" I asked and dusted my fingers on my wrapper.
When no one gave me a reply, I looked through the little space between the door to some people wearing an Ankara attire. They were men.
"Ta ni?"I asked again.
"It's us o", the voice replied. "Ade."
Truly, he was standing at the doorway when I opened the door. He wasn't the only one at the door way, my grandfather's youngest brother, Baba Majeogbe --- whom my great grand parents had fifteen years after having my grandfather--- was standing there too. He was an aging man with a fringe of grey-white hair around his balding, mottled scalp.
"Baba good morning," I knelt down with both legs then stepped aside to let them in.
"Tèllà," Baba Majeogbe said as he sat on the three sitter, cushion chair.
As I sat down opposite them, Anu walked into the living room and greeted both men. In return they played and made jokes about how such a young girl could have learnt such manners.
Smiling, I asked. "Baba what would you like to eat or drink?"
"Ose. We have only come to see you about this house," gestured to the ceiling and returned his hand between his legs.
"Oh OK. What about it?"
Baba Majeogbe coughed then began. "Inheriting a property is not a task befitting for a woman."
As the words sank into my head, a jolt of annoyance shot through me, making me furrow my eyebrows and sit back.
What kind of person thinks like this? Since when did inheriting properties become something a woman didn't deserve?
"I don't know if... my brother told you a woman never inherits a property in our family," his round eyes fell.
Although, Baba Majeogbe's voice was gentle, I could tell he was pretending. You can't be this nice, yet plan to take my grandfather's house from me. Good and evil never work together.
"We decided to give you space to mourn him," Baba Majeogbe continued.
His words were like buckets of ice. I shivered then shook my head and let out a bitter laugh.
"But I'm his only surviving offspring," my eyes shifted towards Ade then landed back at Baba Majeogbe. "I own this place?"
"As Baba Oyo's lawyer, I came along with my dad to read to you his will," Ade spoke up.
I completely forgot he studied law in the university. He was even my grandfather's lawyer when he was alive. Who knows if they killed Baba to inherit this house? I thought. After all, people could go diabolical because of the silly things.
"You might be Baba's lawyer," I looked at him squarely. "...but I won't let you take this house from me."
A sudden force boiled in the pits of my stomach. Ade was young, way younger than me. How dare he tell me he has the will? In order words, he came here to defend his father.
He ignored ripped a sealed brown envelop open then Gabe the will to me. True to Baba Majeogbe's words, my grandfather willed the house to him.
"Téllà, you are allowed to take Baba's other belongings," Baba Majeogbe sighed as if he was sad to tell me these things."Before you return to Ibadan, bring the keys down to my house."
"So, I'm allowed to take the remnants, but not the house?"
Both men stood up, gave me no reply and left.
I couldn't even cry because there was of no point crying. Every misfortune that has ever come my way brought me to tears. Was it the years of torture in Ayoni's hands? Or other things horrible things that tagged attached to my life like a leech.
Somehow, I confirmed bad experiences drain you of everything, especially tears.
Baba betrayed me.
A cold air washed over me and I shivered despite the warmth in the house. The house was my only hope to add as another source of income.
How can I survive as a primary school teacher when my husband earned close to little.
"Mummy, what's wrong?" Anu asked, jolting from my thoughts.
"Nothing," I smiled. "Mummy is okay."
By evening I sat at the front of the house and stared at the lines of orange and purple hues in the sky as my mind replayed the events of the day. Even with light downpour, the air was still freezing cold, just the way my heart felt at the moment.
I hated my grandfather for leaving me with nothing. I would kill Baba Majeogbe and Ade if I had the chance, but I had none.
Why did Baba will his house to his brother? Was it because I stopped visiting?
The thought of these question brought Ayoni to my mind and my inside swirl with irritation. Of course, it made sense. Baba left me with nothing because i stopped visiting. Anyone would be disappointed. It was Ayoni's fault. He stopped me from visiting my old man.
Ayoni has brought nothing but pain into my life. He made me fall in love with him and I foolishly ignored his genotype. He promised to stand by me if the worst came to worst, but he lied. The first few years of Anu's episode showed his true colours. He withdrew from me and stopped making love to me.
"We shouldn't make more like her," he said one time, pointing his fingers at our daughter.
Although, it made sense not to risk having more kids, but a little show of affection would mean the world to me.
Withdrawn to my fate, I went into the house to check on my daughter. Inside the room, Anu slept and grunted because of her catarrh. I made a mental note it was best to let her sleep but on getting to the doorway, a soft thud caught my attention. I whirled around to see the ruan on the floor.
My heart beat quickened. This evening, I left the instrument on the table against the wall and there was no way it could have dropped to the floor except someone pushed it.
But my brain couldn't come up with anything and before I knew it, the same desire to touch the instrument rose from the pit of my stomach. My legs began to move and even as it did, the room temperature dropped and the air I breathed out turned into a mist. Soon as I reached for the ruan, a faint voice whispered in my ears.
As if time collapsed into one tiny speck and exploded at light speed, my eyes stayed glued on the ruan and picked it from the ground. My fingers brushed the strings, ice cold shot through my fingers, but this time it didn't affect me. Releasing a long breath, I hummed. This time it wasn't a song I knew but someone whispered the lyrics in my ears.
... And here's the chapter two. What do you think? Comment your thoughts. Next episode come up next week Thursday. Excerpt of a young adult novel will be out soon! It's titled I AM SUPERNATURAL: Risen evil.
Check out my two short stories; the ant queen and the house of tiny people. Its on my profile, read it and tell me your thoughts.
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by ADUKKY(f): 7:02pm On Aug 26, 2018|
Intriguing story, well-done.
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by Treasurewamiri(f): 10:44pm On Aug 26, 2018|
Can Baba Oyo truly leave Tella out of the will? or is Baba Majeogbe conniving with his son to swindle her? I must see the end of this
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 11:04am On Aug 27, 2018|
Thanks for reading. I hope you'll be back for more this week!
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 11:05am On Aug 27, 2018|
Lol. Some questions will be answered next chapter. Thanks for these fabulous questions.
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by ashatoda: 1:53pm On Aug 27, 2018|
following intently quite interesting
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 8:55pm On Sep 01, 2018|
Music does really open a kind of window to the soul. It speaks when words fail.
That was what I felt after getting my hands on the ruan. It brought a sense of calmness to my tumultuous mind.
For two days now, I slept peacefully without waking up in the dead of the night because of nightmares.
Instead, those two white orbs from my first night here kept coming back. The strangest thing was that it didn't scare me any longer.
Most times, the orbs appear, an unexplainable force draws me to it, just like it does when I find the ruan.
The voices hasn't stopped too. It whispered different songs. Ones which are consoling to my soul.
Sitting in front of my grandfather's house with the ruan on my laps, I stared at the beauty of the levelled green grass as it mingled with the beaming shade of mosses and the dullness of the earth.
The trees laid lower in the distance. I couldn't help, but smile at the beautiful scenery as the wind grazed my cheeks. I never appreciated the house when I used to live with my grandfather.
During my schooling at Adeyemi College of education, I made it a duty not to bring any of my friends home out of shame.
Truly one appreciates what you don't have more than what you have.
It was morning again, and from inside, Anu called out my name like an abandoned child.
Immediately, I stood up and held the ruan by the neck, and then lifted its wooden body to my shoulder. But as I reached the corridor joining the living room to the room Anu called from, an envelope dropped to the ground.
Tentatively, I reached for it then dragged my index finger along the gap and ripped it open. I looked inside to see a piece of paper folded up several times. I pulled it and found my name written in curly fonts.
With my lips slightly parted and my heart slamming against my chest, I started to unfold it. Of course it was letter from my grandfather; I'd recognize that handwriting anywhere. But why would he keep a note in a ruan?
Why didn't he just tell me whatever the note contained on phone when he was still alive?
Use the ruan. The song is the key.
After reading the note, confusion etched deep in my heart. I sucked in air then bit my lower lip as looked around as if searching for answers.
What does the note imply? How can a song or ruan be a key?
Somehow, I couldn't shake off this feeling that my grandfather had been the force pushing me to the ruan. This note must've been very important, so much that he kept it in the ruan as if hiding it from someone.
I just don't get how a mere song would be a key.
Feeling a strong tightness in my chest, I dropped gently to the ground, rested my back on the wall then read through the note again.
Of all things, a letter was all my own grandfather could give me. At that moment, I was blinded by the tears in my eyes and a five-course serving of anger that tasted sour. Without thinking, I squeezed the paper then threw it down the corridor.
I felt betrayed by my grandfather and angry that I was a woman. After all, women weren't allowed the right to inherit a property in our family. As I thought about different possibilities pertaining to the note, something clicked in my head. My first night in the house, something or someone made a lot of noise in the house. Then the whispering about the song in my ears. Definitely, my grandfather's note and the whispers were related. It must've been my grandfather. I concluded in my head, and that's when aproaching footsteps dragged close to me.
Wiping the tears off my face, I looked up when her shoving feet came to a halt.
"Mummy," she said in soft voice, an indication she had woken up for quite some time.
Anu tilted her to the side, a gesture her father always did whenever he was confused about something. That girl was too intelligent for her own good.
She has so many things in common with her Ayoni. From his bushy, arched brows, to his shallow cheeks and his slightly tanned skin, one could tell he was her father. "Your eyes are red."
"Yes!" I shook my head playfully then lifted her above my head while she squealed. "Something entered my eyes."
Without asking if she was hungry, I told her to stay back before making my way outside onto the cracked side walk.
A few motorcycles honked as they passed by the street. People walked the street like an high current water flowing in a gutter. Alot of children carried their school bags, but without wearing uniforms. It was the long August break and so,only a few went to school for the holiday lessons.
The pupils reminded me of mine -- back in Ibadan --- and Mrs. Bello, the proprietor of Prosperous nursery and primary school.
As I took the first turning to the right, at the end of Aborerin street (not quite far to Baba Majeogbe's house) a couple of people stood in clusters, just in front of her shop.
When a young woman among them made eye contact with me, she said some things to them and all heads snapped towards me. Most of them sent hateful glares at me and I couldn't help but narrow my eyes at them.
These were people I didn't even recognise, so why would they give me a nasty stare. When I crossed to the other side where the group gossiped, Iya Ibeji stood up just in time and our eyes met.
In the short seconds of eye contact, something sparked in her eyes before she looked away. It was fear. I could tell.
The rest of the group scattered like people running from an attack.
Heaving an exaggerated sigh, I walked by Iya Ibeji's shop. Although I wasn't pleased with what just happened, especially when it was so obvious my presence brought an abrupt stop to their gossip, I was more than pleased to be relieved of the burden of greeting an elderly woman with no aorta of a sense of reasoning.
I stopped at a provision store where a woman about my age sat down and pressed her phone. As soon as she saw me, she flinched and her phone dropped to the ground with a clatter.
"Erora o," I said in a clipped tone as I sneered at her.
It was getting a bit out of hand from the looks I received from people. And was even more annoying it came from a woman I patronised for two days now.
I'll soon leave this place for you people, I thought.
"Do you have rice?" When she replied with a nod, I added. "Bring three cups."
I watched as she filled the empty can of milk with rice, each time glancing my way. When she finished putting the rice in a black, small nylon, she walked over to me and gave me the rice. But as I proceeded to turn around to walk away, she called me and I stopped with a scowl on my face.
"Ehm... aunty... you don't know what is going on?" She asked, her sparse eyebrows lifted and fell almost immediately.
"Know what?" My voice shook with annoyance. "That you people have been gossiping about me with that useless Iya Ibeji ehn?
The lady shook her head. As she looked down, her neck rolled into flaps of double chin. "Baba Majeogbe and his son are dead."
A small yelp left my mouth as my palms flew over my mouth. "Oh my God."
Whitish dots started to form beneath my eyelids and my head spun in unison. I didn't even have the strength to stand, so I sat down on a cement block propped up to keep the iron door from closing. Baba Majeogbe, my grandfather's brother and his son were dead only two days after their visit. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't because of people that passed.
"And from the way it looks...people are saying they visited you," she shook her head again. "T-They said the two had terrible dreams about you before their death."
"Me?" I asked, not believing a thing of what she said. "I-I need to go to their house."
Without another word, I started to run towards the street which lead to their house. People who walked by gave me strange looks, but I didn't care. It's what people do when they don't get what was going through your mind. My mind was swarmed with so many questions. How did they die? Did they really dream about me in the last hours before their death? Was I now the owner of my grandfather's property? For a second, I actually felt bad for thinking about my ownership of a property and my eyes began to water. A sense of déjàvu enveloped me as I remembered the very night my parents were killed.
That day with a laboured breath, I pushed the door open as soon as the men left. I was only a young girl stranded in the middle of my street with only one thought, getting myself to safety, far away from where they killed my parents.
I couldn't risk the men changing their minds to finish me off. I didn't even look at my parent's body on the ground before running into the dark night.
Pushing my arms back and forth, I ran to my destination, jumping over small pot holes, and pumping my young legs as fast as they could go. Once I made it to another turning and saw the roof of our house, I cried in relief. I was almost home.
Few more steps, I had told myself.
My breathing was labored. My legs were tired and the wind tortured my eyes. I wiped away several tears; I would never see my mother's smiling face or my father's deep chuckle. Those men took them away from me and I'd never see them again.
I came to an halting stop with my fist against the gate and banged like a maniac. I silently prayed my neighbors hadn't gone out to celebrate the new year.
"Taniyen?" An angry voice answered and I realized my painful memories had melted away.
I wasn't standing in front of my parents house in Ibadan any longer. I was standing in front of Baba Majeogbe's house and there's a woman staring at me with cold, swollen eyes with dried tears glued to her cheeks. I had never seen her before and I could tell she hated me.
"You this witch have the effontery to come," she barked as she started to approach me.
On impulse, I backed away as I remembered what the woman at the provision store told me, they really believed I killed Baba Majeogbe and Ade.
Next chapter comes up on Wednesday!
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by horlardipupo(m): 1:53am On Sep 02, 2018|
Nice story.. Update sharp sharp!!
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 6:09pm On Sep 02, 2018|
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 6:10pm On Sep 02, 2018|
Good questions! Thanks for reading.
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by Bluehaven(m): 11:28am On Sep 07, 2018|
Wednesday na TWO days ago o!!!
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 3:59pm On Sep 09, 2018|
I was too devastated to resume back to school on Wednesday, so I decided to stay back and call Mrs. Bello, my boss, to grant me an extra days.
She seemed displeased because I could tell from her sharp tone over the phone. Mrs. Bello has always been the type who hardly took her school business lightly. For four years since I've worked with her as a primary four teacher, she has never left the school premises during teaching hours, I was only lucky she considered giving me a few days leave of absence.
"You should never have gone there," Suliat , the woman who told me about Baba Majeogbe's death, said in an heavy Ibadan accent.
She placed the bowl of garri on the table and dusted the residue off her wrapper.
"I-I just wanted to go---"
"You shouldn't have at all," she said. "Sha don't go for the burial o for your own good."
After I came back from Baba Majeogbe's house, Suliat told me about their upcoming memorial service. I suggested going, but Suliat wasn't keen about it. She believed they would embarrass me due to what I told her about the woman at Baba Majrobe's house.
"I can't believe Baba Majeogbe is really gone," I shook my head and took a glance at the street.
A couple passed by; the man looked rather too muscular next to the petite. He wrapped his arm around her as they carried on a solemn look. Almost everyone in Aborerin heard the shocking news of Baba Majeobe and his son.
"All these is too much," a tear slid out of my eye.
"Too much," Suliat.
She told me Ade needed to get some documents from the office and took an Okada. On his way back home, a collision occurred between the Okada he boarded and a cement truck. He died on the spot.
It was rumoured his head had been practically mashed on the tarred road due to the force from the collision. Few metres from the accident scene, they found the documents; which were mostly agreement documents and invoices. The strangest part of everything was that Baba Majeogbe died the same day.
Suliat said there were rumours of Baba Majoebe screaming to death while he shouted "Tella, leave me alone!". That same morning, Ade told his mother he dreamt about me. It was so unbelievable people were accusing me of using mystical powers to kill them. I was in my grandfather's house playing the ruan.
"I'm not even sure it's safe here for both us," I glanced at Anu as she played with Suliat's son in the shop then scratched my elbow.
Of course, I didn't feel safe. The community could attack me out of hate. But then, if Ade had dreamt about me, why didn't he confront me?
Maybe they are scared of you.
A little voice whispered behind ear and I could have sworn a moist cold grazed the tip of my ear.
Swallowing hard, I stole a glance at Suliat who smiled at me with pity eminent in her eyes.
"Did you say something?"
"No," she replied.
And I nodded. I was lucky to have Suliat around this past days. Everyone avoided me like I had a disease. After telling her about Baba Majeogbe and his son's threat, I expected her to accuse me of having a motive to kill both men to inherit my grandfather's property, instead she treated me well.
"But how?" I shook my head. "How will I kill them? I'm not a witch na?
Suliat shielded her face from the glare of the afternoon sun, and furrowed her brows. "Baba Oyo would never have left you to suffer, abi?
"Suliat, it wasn't my grandfather that appeared to them now, it was me!" my voice quivered when the last word left my mouth. "It was m-me."
I swallowed back tears.
How could Baba Oyo protect me when he was dead?
"Look, I believe in spirits, Tella," she said. "When someone precious to the dead is tormented, they stand up for him or her."
"I don't agree."
"It could be your eleda. They could be planning to cheat you now," Suliat adjusted the scarf on her head. "I know something stood up for you."
It didn't even occur to me that Baba Majeogbe and Ade could have been planning to cheat me. The whole thing had been too quick. They didn't allow my grandfather's body to get cold in the ground before they started this whole inheritance thing.
Maybe Suliat was right.
Of course, it was easier to make up stories and get me out of the way. Ade could have been a deceptive lawyer, who was willing to get something that wasn't his.
"If spirits were helping me then why pretend to be me while threatening Baba Majeogbe and his son," I said. "They are getting me in trouble.
"Otoni," she said. "But at least, now you have someone protecting you. If I were you, I'll be grateful."
Before i got the chance to argue with Suliat, my phone vibrated on my lap. I recoiled as soon as I saw Ayoni's name, but on a second thought I picked it up.
"Tella when are you coming home?" He spoke in a dead voice.
I tightened my grip on the phone in fear.
"Come home Tella."
"Ok," I bit on my fingernails. "I-I will come tomorrow."
"No! You're coming home today. I heard the news about that your uncle.... or grandpa ni o. Baba Majeobe." Ayoni paused at the other end, then continued. "I want you home by evening."
"Who is the husband here?! Ehn?!"
"Good. I want you and Anu home before I come back from work."
I snorted inwardly, not daring to let him hear me. He always mentioned work like he worked in a multinational and not as a cab driver.
At times, I've always wondered why I was foolish to fall in love with this man. He didn't even go to school. It was glaring enough I would suffer in the marriage; financially.
"Tella, come home," maybe I heard imagined it, but he said the last part in a soft voice and with a click the call ended.
I shivered at the thought of being back home in Ibadan and sleeping under the same roof as Ayoni and coming across Shaki, my neighbour who hated me beyond imagination.
"Are you OK?" Suliat furrowed her sparse brows at me and I shook my head.
"My husband wants me home," I said.
We exchanged number and said our goodbyes.
I reached house my grandfather's house ten minutes past twelve. Not wasting much time packing my belongings and stuffing my grandfather's ruan into one of his Ghana must go bags. Once I was done packing my things, I held Anu and looked around the small room. The room which held a mysterious cold.
I moved towards the curtain by the window --- which was too small--- and shut the louvers. The small bed was tucked away from the entrance, giving the room enough space to walk around.
By the wooden standing mirror, stood a wooden table and chair. That mirror had been there far before I was even born. I stepped closer to check if my T-shirt I covered the tattered waist band of jeans.
Instead of seeing only myself in the mirror, I saw two shadowy figures with two white orbs. They were the same ones I saw the night I buried my grandfather.
A musty smell overtook the room and the temperature dropped to a freezing cold. I wrapped my arms around my body as I shook, but in the mirror, I wasn't doing the same thing. I had my arms at my side.
Holding back a scream, I squinted to get a closer look at myself. I didn't need anyone to tell me the woman in the mirror wasn't me. I don't know how it was possible though.
This woman was surrounded by an air of confidence unlike me. Her shoulders stood back as she pointed her cleft chin outward. Not a lump of pimples were on her face compared to mine.
When I opened my mouth, she gave me an half shrug and a grin. It felt like we were in some secrecy together then it struck me.
What if this was Téllà Baba Majeobe and Ade saw? What if my grandfather wasn't the one disrupting the house at the night of the burial? What if it was her?
At this realization, I breathed heavily while she watched me with furrowed brows and her head cocked to the side.
I tried moving but a force held me still to the spot. My mind ran wild with thoughts about Anu and what this woman in the mirror would do her.
Forcing my eyes shut, a strong vacuum sucked in my face and stopped after some seconds. I opened my eyes and whirled around with my palms on my mouth when I could no longer find Anu beside me. But thankfully, Anu was on the bed, and playing all by herself.
I rushed to her, and wrapped my arms around her. She giggled in my arms in return.
Out if curiosity I walked over to the standing mirror again, waved and the other me did the same.
She was gone, I thought then stepped out of the room without looking back.
Lucky for me, I reached the motor park just about the time the vehicle almost filled up and within three hours I stepped into my apartment.
I hated the damp smell the raoom produced. The peeling green paint didn't help either. Although my grandfather's house was far from good looking, but it was better than living in a face me and face you apartment where you share a kitchen and bathroom with neighbours.
I dumped the luggage under the rack of clothing next to a pile if clean plates. The events of the day lingered in my head as I sat down on the sofa.
What was Suliat really implying about the eleda thing?
People referred to superstitious things like spirits getting a revenge or protecting their own, but as a christian I was taught the dead faced judgement immediately.
So what caused the noise back at my grandfather's house? Was it that woman in the mirror? Was she my eleda?
She must've caused the noise. I concluded. My grandfather (if truly his spirit still lingered around) would never scare or hurt me. But if that woman in the mirror was my eleda, why would she get me into trouble?
Sighing, I looked at my daughter as she played by herself with a rubber band in her hands. She was the one keeping sane with all the strangeness going around me.
I bent towards the luggage to unzip it, but as I took the first cloth out, my eyes danced over to the Ghana must go bag which concealed the ruan.
As I stood up and walked over to the bag something struck my mind. What if I made money with this instrument? I could play in children's parties just as my grandfather made money from it.
A coldness enveloped the room as I unzipped the bag. My head snapped up immediately as a shadow covered the rays of sun from the window. Before me stood the woman -- my replica-- and the white orbs.
I should flinch or scream but I did nothing of such. Her brown eyes glitter with amusement as she nodded towards the open bag and said.
"The song. A life for a life."
She smiled again and in a twinkle of an eye, she vanished and the damp warmness of the room returned.
Maybe Suliat was right after all.
This woman must've been the one who caused the strange noise in my grandfather's house.
Now I was certain.
Hey! Hey! Here's the fourth chapter and I'm so sorry it took so long. The next chapter will be available next Sunday.
Comment your thoughts. Lots and lots of love ---- Esosa Kolawole.
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 4:00pm On Sep 09, 2018|
Sorry guys! I forgot to write chapter Four. That chapter up there is chapter four. Thanks.
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by adesokan382: 4:01pm On Sep 09, 2018|
horlardipupo:Nice story.. Update sharp sharp!!Soon�☺Q
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 4:02pm On Sep 09, 2018|
Really sorry it took so long. I was caught in a writing competition. Chapter four is up and next one comes up on Sunday
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by Bluehaven(m): 4:38pm On Sep 09, 2018|
sosa993:That's what we call delayed suspense...
Oya share me the article/anecdote you wrote at the competition.
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 10:26am On Sep 11, 2018|
Teni Coker's life used to be awesome until someone stuck a note to her gate. Don't marry him, it said.
She's not sure if it's a warning or a threat, but she's determined to find out before something gets out of hand.
The End Of Me
Hey there! The end of me will be available this evening. I'll share the link with you. Sorry I can't post the story on Nairaland for now. It's a short story for a flash fiction contest and I'll really appreciate if you check it out on OkadaBooks. No fees applied. Just a free download!
It going to be in the drama genre and once I upload I'll share.
Lots of Love��
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 5:14pm On Sep 11, 2018|
Please, could you check out my short story on Okadabooks. Its free. Thank you.
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by Bluehaven(m): 8:40pm On Sep 11, 2018|
I seriously hate redirections. It pisses me off...at times though!
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 10:11pm On Sep 16, 2018|
To be published
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by ADUKKY(f): 11:32am On Sep 17, 2018|
Welldone sosa993, bring it on.
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 1:09pm On Sep 17, 2018|
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 7:13am On Sep 25, 2018|
Hey guys! Téllà has up to 600 plus views and I have you all to thank. Please could you add more replies to it to boost it. Comments helps motivate authors too. Thank you.
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by Ayodipths(m): 7:29am On Sep 25, 2018|
Good Job @sosa993, am just kinda busy nw, will come read later... more ink to ur pen.
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 8:41am On Sep 25, 2018|
Thank you Ayo. I'll upload Téllà soon. Been busy too.
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by Ayodipths(m): 8:50am On Sep 25, 2018|
Alright, am back sef, lemme follow you on twit first.
|Re: TÉLLÀ ( A Paranormal Story) by sosa993(f): 1:14pm On Sep 26, 2018|
What's your twitter handle.
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