₦airaland Forum

EvaJael:
I think I'll join the team. I can't even wish my worst enemy such suffering

I need to scroll back to find who started it. Brb

Just2million meet EvaJael she wants in on #teamlinda

nikz:
This is serious oh! God pls help Linda. She knows she has sinned but have mercy Lord

As Oyindawealth said it ..

Our Lord is a merciful God...

Thank you for reading and commenting nikz

EvaJael:
Mehn I had a nightmare.about Linda and I stayed awake after that till daybreak. Thank God we're taking a break from her. Lleigh I'm officially afraid of u

Evajael I know how you feel.

I can't write the scenes at night

Yes we need a break.

Linda please don't call us yet..

But Evajael wait o ..there is a #teamlinda

Audrinakane:
Thank you for the reply. My guts were right. Please do catch up with The River because I miss that story terribly. Charles was a rich guy in the river and also the Auction. I am now trying to link the stories more. Waiting for an update in the River story for more clues.
You are so good.

Aidrinakane thank you.

I will be back there soon, research and going out to question people takes time.

Audrinakane:
Lleigh, nice update. Thank you. I have a question, is this story linked to the The River story because the death scene of the child is similar to that of the boy killed in the river by Charles. Interesting though,keep it up

Hi Audrinakane, I did predict someone would call it out.

Yes this story is linked to 'The River' it always has been.

Hence why I said I would need to catch up on a few things, The River being one of them.

'The Auction just seemed to push along quicker for me than The River.

I think the boy in the River scared me a lot

But I think I have banished the writers block, plus I have to do a lot of research on things.

We need to leave Linda for a while to reflect on what has happened before we return to her.

Thank you Audrinakane for reading my stories...

going back to the dark room

Majesticniyi:
She's not just sick, she's perverted! Nice story but I wonder how twisted her mind is for her to come up with this. I don't pray to come across someone like you in real life.

No vex of.... Just my opinion

Majesticniyi I no vex o.

janeade:
thumbs up..but Lleigh wen is d next update

janeade it has just been updated thank you

Oyindawealth:
D update is interesting as usual, but it's kinda short... Patiently waiting 4 more plss....thanks.

Oyindawealth a lengthy update (I hope you agree ) has dropped.

I will now take a break from Linda...

Chapter 43

He was right, it was going to be a feel and tell. She was in his body seeing and feeling what he was experiencing. It was scary, she could not breath, she thought she was going crazy.

The feeling of possessing another body freaked her out as her sight of vision changed. She was conscious of her own mind and knew she should not be in the boy’s body, but it was a strange feeling that she could not really describe. The body she was in led her to a room....she was now living through the nightmare the boy wanted to show her.

It was dark with lots of burning candles dotted around the room, creating dark moody shadows in the flickering flames. There were no windows that he could see; the walls were white with various masks on the walls, more menacing than the ones he remembered seeing in the living room earlier.

There were wooden carved figures dotted around the room as well, also similar to the ones in the living room. They looked like some of the things he had seen in his old village when he had gone with his Mummy to visit the local doctor.

The things he saw there had always left him scared; why, he didn’t know but he always had horrific traumatic nightmares after going there.
The nightmares always had his Mummy rushing into his room in the middle of the night, comforting him when he woke up screaming and shaking with fear.

He thought he was having a nightmare when he noticed a wooden figure near him in the room; it was nearly as tall as him, large bulging lifelike eyes had been painstakingly carved into the wood, the paint used for the white of the eyes had been spotted with red paint, that red paint was now seeping from the eye balls, obliterating the pupils, literally crying blood.

It looked menacing and frightening in the dim lighting of the room, like one of the monsters that inhabited dark places in the forests of his old village.

In his childish mind the wooden figure looked very lifelike; the eyes were aware, watching, waiting patiently and filled with mysterious promise waiting to be fulfilled.

He opened his mouth, trying to force his stomach muscles to bring out a scream, realization quickly dawning on him that he could not, his muscles did not and could not respond.

The thing, as it stared at him, the eyes soo real to him, fiery red, blinking and staring at him in the shadowy room, like magnets to his soul. The glance made the hairs on his arms stand up, as goose bumps and shivers followed like the breath of a corpse on a cold night.
Right before his eyes, a change started, as something ghostly briefly materialised from within the carving.

Standing before him was a wraithlike figure with skin hanging off its body like rags, the eyes red and fiery, the mouth grinning with secretive knowledge, as a cooing guttural sound came from its throat.
Accompanying the apparition was the smell of freshly dug earth, and then it was gone as fast it appeared.
Like mist on a hot morning the earthy scent fading away in its wake.

‘Uncle’, he cried, trying to lift up his head and talk, but his limbs did not respond, could not respond, his body felt very heavy and tired, as invisible hands held him down, the hands pushing down on his chest felt like a concrete pillow pinning him down on the hard surface. He started panicking as his young heart beat furiously against his chest straining his ability to breath.

Something in his subconscious mind was telling him this was not a dream.

He moved his eyes to look around the room and noticed that his hands and feet were tied onto a table. He tried moving his arms and legs again, but he couldn’t nor could he properly feel his arms or legs, yet he could see everything that was happening in the room.

He heard someone chanting as if in prayer and repeating his name over and over again. His eyes moved to the right and saw the man he called ‘Uncle’ and an older man speaking or praying, he could not tell, in front of the wooden figure. At its feet were what looked like two calabash bowls; his eyes straining trying to see what was in them.

A hot breath on his eyes drew him back to the eyes of the figurine.

He tried to will himself out of his dream, his Mummy had taught him that he should just tell himself that he was dreaming and he would wake up. However, he realized that this would not happen as the Uncle and his friend – an old man, with grey hair, shorter than his Uncle, with deep gashes on his face - approached him on the table. The old man had necklaces of different kinds of shells around his neck and he was wearing a white sheet round his waist. The man he called Uncle, was naked apart from a pair of white boxers; he had red marks smeared on his forehead. He dreaded to think that it was blood on his forehead.

The two men stood near him as the intensity of their chanting increased; the heavy atmosphere in the room becoming more menacing, as he wracked his brain to try and translate the language being said by the old man.

‘Oh mighty Aje Shula’

‘we are your lowly servants, we come to worship you’

‘we come to serve you’

‘Please look on our sacrifice to you well, your mighty one’

‘Please grant us all your particular blessings with this sacrifice’

‘Please take this boy as your sacrifice, may his blood, his limbs and his heart be worthy and accepted by you’

The man waved around what looked like an animal hair fly swat while he was chanting. The more waving he did, the more real the wraith shape coming from the figurine became. It managed to keep its shape for longer periods of time, the smell of fresh earth lingering for longer becoming more pungent.

The chanting and the waving giving the image substance, it was feeding on the words and the adulation the men were giving it. He closed his eyes, trying to shake his head from side to side, trying to get rid of the dream and the horrible images. ‘I am dreaming, I am dreaming, I am dreaming,’ he repeated to himself over and over again wishing that his Mummy was there in the room to comfort him.

His heart pumping furiously to the beat of the fear he was feeling, straining his young heart even more. His heart felt as if it was too big for his chest, he could not breath properly.

His Uncle and the old man moved in closer to him on the table standing over him, chanting and singing, shaking the wand over his head. He was crying, screaming Mummy, Mummy he cried out, but no sound emitted from his mouth, he was scared and alone. He wanted his Mummy to comfort him and tell him that everything was going to be OK, but she wasn’t there as the tears slid silently down his cheeks.

A movement towards his right caught his eye as he realised that his Uncle had moved slightly, so that he was now leaning over his neck, with what looked like an axe. Its blade shining brilliantly in the candlelight, the edges so bright it looked like diamonds had been forged into its lethal cutting edge. In that split second understanding dawned on him, he knew then what was about to happen.

Time froze.

His short life flashed before him.

He remembered being warned by his Mummy and the elders not to venture out too far when playing, there were people who took children away, they repeated all the time.

He thought of his Mummy, her smiling face as he craved her arms around him to hold him, her voice to sooth him, her smell to reassure him.
Time began again for him.

He was still thinking about his Mummy’s loving arms when the axe came down and severed his head.

The blood spurting freely from his severed neck was quickly caught in one of the bowls in front of the carved deity, his arms and feet were cut off, blood needed for other rituals was collected into other bowls.

The third figure in the room was given his heart.


With a sudden jolt Linda was back in the crate, her heart beating wildly. She couldn’t not control it she threw up as the swoosh sound of the blade echoed again and again in her in her head.

The image of the child’s head rolling on the floor, feet away from the body made her heave again.

The image of the legs and arms being hacked off the body stayed with her, it was gruesome. But not as gruesome as the way they had hacked into his body to take his heart.

What had she done?

What in the name of all things HOLY had been the thing that had taken and eaten the boy’s heart. That thing had not been human, it had become human by eating the boy’s heart.

Now she understood what Lucien had said to her, she had made a grave mistake.

Snippets of Lucien’s words came back to her ‘Linda that one act you engaged in, throwing that baby off that bridge created a number of far reaching consequences. You set in motion a sequence of events, the repercussions of which will be catastrophic for you’

She remembered the sadness in his voice and eyes when he delivered the next sentence ‘there are some children….’ He did not finish the sentence.

She also remembered the other thing he had gone on about ‘when people curse you and they call on the names of their dead generational ancestors on both sides of their parental lineage, then you know you are in real sh!t’

Linda did not need a babalawo or a Pastor to state the obvious to her; she was in deep sh!t so deep she wandered if she would be able to get her head out of the quagmire of the spiritual war she had inadvertently called upon herself.

Who were the people who had taken that child?

Who really was the Father of her child?

For a dead child to have this much power was just unimaginable.

It now dawned on her that the spirit of the child was somehow behind all the misfortunes she currently found herself in.

It had to be; as with every lash, every indignity, Lucien had always banged on about the child she threw over the bridge.

It had always been about the child.

Oh God!! What have I done?

Deep in her heart she knew the child was hers, Mother Nature had played a cruel trick on her. The boy was the carbon copy of her father when he had been a young boy. She had seen a lot of pictures of him as a boy, it was like she was feeling the wrath of her departed Father.

For the first time in her adult life Linda knelt down to pray and to ask God for forgiveness, she had sinned.

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next update

ozila:
Hi leigh, I love this story and you did a great job, can I pls copy to my blog and the river too?.

Hi ozila please email me thanks

JMK9600:
Ma'am how do you do this? I have decided not to read updates when am about to sleep. Where is Enitan and her husband? Good story

Hi JMK9600

Thank you for reading the story.

We will be catching up with the other characters after the next update.

Some people will have to read it during the day. Like me too

@ dominique i apologise in advance for the next update.

To all readers actually thanks.

jagugu88li and Adesina12 have the two of you eloped together as i haven't seen you here.

chii8:
Please leigh, I want to ask, what do you do for a living.? Or better still what inspires you,or what kind of movies,books do you read? .....

Summarily, how you dey do this thing?

Haha chii8 if I told you what I do for a living.....

samyfreshsmooth:
Wow!!!

You kept to your promise

how sweet


on a serious note though
how do you sleep at night Lleigh?

Cos i cant imagine you not having nightmares after writing this

Hi samyfreshsmooth which is why I tried...to take a break away from Linda and co

But no, she called me back.
She is a compelling character

dominique:
Can't wait to see what she encounters there. I won't be able to read how her baby died sha, don't think my heart will be able to take it



All that torture can make person Hallucinate in different dimensions

Aaw dominique i know how you feel about the baby

. But even today on the front page someone flushed a baby down the gutter.

dominique:
Can't wait to see what she encounters there. I won't be able to read how her baby died sha, don't think my heart will be able to take it



All that torture can make person Hallucinate in different dimensions

dominique you are right. She could be feeling and seeing things

surddick:
the idea of her being transported frm her cage to another room was it her imagination cus she was in a cage.

The boy told Linda it would be a feel and tell. So the boy somehow, I won't say too much. got her to feel and see what he was experiencing. He put her in his body.
So he made her possess his body..

dominique:
All that torture can make person Hallucinate in different dimensions

And dominique is right... Linda has gone through a lot.

dominique:
Leigh!!!!!!! Please don't go into gory details How a baby was dismembered. I don't think my heart will be able to take it. Let's see what becomes of Linda when she gets to her new destination.

dominique.. Yes Linda's new destination awaits.

Kimkardashain:
linda, kai! Lleigh abeg pity her

I will see what we can do

Oyindawealth:
D update is interesting as usual, but it's kinda short... Patiently waiting 4 more plss....thanks.

Oyindawealth sorry for the shortness. I will update soon.

Thank you for reading it

surddick:
i really dnt lyk the new twist of the story, it has lost that touch i once felt. Nice work though buh the baby appearing and the likes makes it childlike.

surddick I understand where you are coming from.

The boy's character had to be that of a child, with child habits.

Hope you stay with the thread thank you.

prettyrose:
Just Started This Story Today, Keep Up The Good Work.

Thank you prettyrose.

donteanz:
honestly speaking, you're such a genius Ma Lady(Lleigh).
I just couldn't help but keep reading this piece. You've done a great job down here, i swear this story could take you places, believe me. MORE BLESSINGS

donteanz thank you.

Thank you for reading and commenting as well.

Kamelot77:
Lleigh u are amazing.......
cant even predict linda future

Thank you Kamelot77

Just2million:
Leigh thanks for this update...
But this update is short ooo

Just2million please manage this one.

I beg

queenitee:
Thanks Lleigh, I dunno anymore, a part of me pity Linda, please help her

No one helped the people Linda hurt though.

snaketail22:
Nice write up but the update is too slow for my liking

snaketail22 please bear with us. Update coming soon

indodon:
op pls work on the frequency of the updates

indodon please bear with us. Update coming soon.

Oyindawealth:
Nice story..following bumper 2 bumper... Btw thanks 4 d mention. More plsss...

You're welcome sis.

Update is coming soon

Chapter 42.

Linda pushed herself and shrank into a corner in the crate to get over the shock of what she had experienced. She did not know what to do, she was too traumatised to cry.

Even the pain from where she had been branded could not take her mind away from what she had experienced.

Her son, her child?
Was it possible?

How could a child have survived such a trauma?
More still how had he found her, his birth Mother?
These were the thoughts racing through her mind.

She looked around her; the crate was dark and gloomy, however some holes had been drilled into the four sides enabling pin pricks of light to be scattered around the gloomy interior.

Her companions were deathly quiet as well, had they also seen the boy? To be honest it could have been a figment of her imagination as she had not spoken a single word throughout the whole unearthly unworldly encounter.

She had been quite reticent, the shock of it all had robbed her of speech.

She was slowly getting over the shock of what she had just experienced when a faint light appeared in the gloom of the crate.

The same boy appeared again.

Why couldn’t he just go away and leave her alone, why?

‘Hello again Mother.‘ he said.

‘I know you can see me.’

‘How’s life in the dark crate?’ He asked as he looked around the crate.

She thought this apparition had gone and would leave her in peace, instead the thing was back like a bad smell that wanted to stick to your clothes forever.

‘The journey to your new place of abode will take a couple of days, so I thought I would help keep your eyes open for the rest of the journey.’

‘I want to make sure that whenever you close your eyes you see what I am about to show you.’

‘I was going to do a one off show and tell.’

Linda gave him a blank look.

‘Of course you won’t know what show and tell is, since you threw your child over a bridge.’

‘Show and tell is a fundamental part of primary school learning.’

Linda sighed in irritation, if it was even possible to be irritated. This thing needed to go away, the incessant chatter was doing her head in.

The pain from the brand was a distant memory, this thing was scaring the life out of her.

‘Leave me alone,’ she whispered.

‘Not possible, I’m afraid, right back to where I was.’ He said, as a football miraculously appeared at his feet.

‘My show and tell beats everyone else’s hands down all the time’ he laughed, it wasn’t a mischievous laugh, it was one full of menace.

‘I want to show you how I was slaughtered and give you a running commentary on each part of the gruesome incident.’

‘What do you think Mother?’

‘Think of it as having your very own cinema. Only I want to make sure you see it again and again.’

‘Although I am not really sure you actually have a conscience, so this might not actually affect you.’

‘I thought it would only be fair for you to experience what happened to me at the hand of the ritualists who decided to slaughter me.’

‘You must understand those people since you consort with them all the time, Mother dearest.’

If this had been real; that child would have been slapped by now, Linda thought to herself, he was getting on her nerves with his incessant chatter.

She wanted to be left alone, she had more than enough to contend with.

He glared at her, ‘cat got your tongue mother; you have been very quiet.’ The hatred on his childlike face, so obvious it was shocking.

‘You actually haven’t uttered a word since we met.’ He said.

Linda watched in horror as blood oozed from the hole in his chest; she was feeling light headed, her brain tried to force its way out of her skull.

‘Yes my heart bleeds at your cold unmotherly like attitude.’ As he held a hand to the hole where his heart should have been.

‘I am not your mother,’ Linda stuttered, ‘leave me alone.’

‘Please leave me alone.’

‘That, Mother I can’t do. That is, leave you alone.’

‘So where was I Mother dearest…’

‘Yes, I was slaughtered like a piece of chicken.’

‘Anyway I talk too much here it goes, after this I guess I will leave you for a while, or maybe not.’

‘I am currently down on people to torment at the moment; Lucien is on a break tending to his roses for now. He has delivered on some of his….’ His voice tailed off.

‘Well back to the show at hand.’ He said.

Linda couldn’t speak, as who in their right mind actually spoke to ghosts. She wasn’t even sure if this caricature of a thing was a ghost or demon.

Hold on a minute, Lucien? This thing knew Charles?

‘I am whatever you think I am. What do you think I am Mother?’ The boy asked her.

That was it, ‘stop calling me Mother and go back to the hell you came from’ Linda screamed at him.

She’d had enough. Sola had been different she had recognised her, it hadn’t made the experience less scary. It just was she could relate to that apparition, she had killed her after all.

This thing, this horrible thing was another matter.

No this was not her child.

‘Actually it won’t be a show and tell, it will be a feel and tell.’

‘I am going to transport you to my living hell; that you caused Mother.’

‘I relive this every single day, Mother.’

‘This is the hell you made for me.’ The boy said, a hint of sadness in his voice.

‘I have also accepted my blame in the whole thing, I was in such a hurry to come to earth. I did not do my research on my potential parents,’ the sadness was now apparent in his voice.

The room took on a shimmer and a glow and Linda was transported into a room.

She saw a small happy looking boy, something about him was familiar.

Oh my God, the boy was the carbon copy of her father at that age. She remembered the picture her Father had kept in the living room of him when he started primary school.

Sh!t …she thought to herself, sh!t.

What had she done? When she threw that baby over that bridge, she had not thought the baby would survive.

She had done it out of spite and annoyance. That child had been her flesh and blood.

What had she done?

Oh my God, Oh God, as the face of her father stared back at her.

The boy, the ghost or the she had run out of words to describe him, pulled her into the body of the happy looking boy.

As promised an unexpected update.....thank you for reading every one, I appreciate the reading and the comments.

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