Must Read: The Diary… Part 20


A Story written by Slickest…

I watched in disbelieve as I have never seen such in my entire life, albeit I have encountered that in a ghost movie but a real life situation where a ghost walked through a door?, I was perplexed I didn’t know what next to do, I couldn’t stand the fact that I had been walking behind my dead cousin all along, there were suspicious acts I never paid attention to, how possible is it for someone to walk behind you and you never bothered to look back, that is something definitely beyond the ordinary, to walk with such confidence and slow pace in a pitch black place like you own it, I thought of cautioning myself towards paying attention to little details because I might not be lucky the next time, I still stood troubled staring at my door with fear, I was so sure I wasn’t sleeping in there tonight.

As I mourned my present homelessness silently as it was certain I wasn’t going to step foot in to my apartment, Papa Sunday’s door made an unlocking sound which indicated someone coming out, quickly I put my phone close to my ear faking a call, “…see bros…this is a wrong number…see, this na wrong number…I no sabi that name wey you mention now…” I said in a pestering tone. Just as I expected, Papa Sunday opened his door to see who stood at the centre of their compound, Papa Sunday is the only security conscious person we had in the compound, he is so concerned and willingly gets engaged when it comes to security matters in the compound and also the community at large, he was a great contributor to the nabbing of the robbers sometimes during the festive season, he is well known for that and was also appreciated by those who never took interest.

I stayed calm as I made my factitious call to nobody, Papa Sunday looked at me from his entrance where he stood, I waved back at him pretending I was still on the call, he turned back and shut his door leaving me all alone at the centre of the compound. I stopped deceiving myself and looked around the dark compound, at this time I wasn’t brave enough to go anywhere alone less going in to my apartment a dead man just walked into freely, I thought of another way out as I can’t sleep outside in the open, I reached for my keys and dropped it in my little fancy bag I thought would be useful for carrying the perfume, it also had my diary in it. I got close to Papa Sunday’s door with a perfect idea, I already cooked up something I believed would be believable, I put my phone close to my ear again to start a new construction, “..I pray it works..” Was all I could say deep inside as a silent prayer.

“…yes yes yes…just check around…I think I left it on the table…it can’t be hidden , it should be around…please help me just check around, I’ll come for it first thing in the morning…yes…I’ll manage with one of my neighbours…” I concluded, I was about to knock when Papa Sunday coincidentally opened the door, he looked at me without saying a word, I really didn’t know where to start from but I had to get talking, ” …I just found out I misplaced my key and I just reached out to the possible place I might have lost it….can I manage with you till morning?…” I picked my words one by one but made sense, he still didn’t alter a word as he gave way so I could go in, “…you can manage on the couch…” He said pointing the three seater in his sitting room.

I sat down on the three seater couch facing his room, the curtain was raised up reason being the excessive heat, I saw sunday sleeping on a bed in the room, it appeared he was having a sound and peaceful sleep, I put my bag beside the candle on the table as I loosened my belt, Papa Sunday stayed silent which showed how much he was missing his wife, I felt sorry for him and thought of just speaking the truth, like they say  it shall set you free but definitely not my situation, my silence gave me my freedom which though came with some packages of fear but at least I have an option if I have to make a choice, living here in fear or absconding to an unknown situation.

Papa Sunday in his black boxer short walked towards the toilet, he wore a pair of slippers and went into the toilet, I raised my head and alas…Mama Sunday was standing by the bed side looking straight at her sleeping Sunday, quickly I stood up and didn’t know what next to do, I just stared at her as she also gradually turned her head towards me, she looked at me with so much anger as her white uniform had black stains all over, she breathed heavily and in return had dust coming out of her  nose, she held a syringe in her hand which I suspected to be the kind used in taking blood from donors, she took a step forward in to the sitting room looking like she wanted to rip me apart, she ran towards me with an ultra fast speed like she moved with the wind, she raised her syringe up with the intention of stabbing me…Papa Sunday came out of the toilet as I also in the process of dodging her attack fell on the couch and kicked the table, the candle fell to the ground killing the only source of light in the house. “..what happened?…” Papa Sunday said worriedly as his footsteps told he dashed to the kitchen, I was a little dizzy as I didn’t know what truely was wrong with me, I raised my head towards the strike of a match by Papa Sunday, it was obvious he rushed to the kitchen to get the match, the match dimmed off as it took some seconds before he could strike another, Mama Sunday stood behind him looking at me without him noticing, it was obvious she wanted to kill me but as it is now…she wants to kill me.

I felt a slight headache as I tried standing up, I sat on the chair as Papa Sunday lit the candle after standing the table, he glued the candle to the table with its wax, ” what happened?….haaa your head is bleeding ooo!!!..” He said as he  came close to show some care, I touched the side of my head which was deeply torn by the syringe, blood tripped down to my chick as I showed some expression of pain, Papa Sunday rushed in to his bedroom and came out with a first aid box which obviously belonged to his wife, he cleaned the wound and kept on questioning me on how I got such a deep cut while sitting, he pointed out that he still doesn’t understand what must have instigated such an injury in the house, he scrutinised his chair to see if he would find a pointed nail, he rubbed his chair back and forth but nothing pointed halted his search.

He plastered my head after laying some cotton wool on the wound, I rested my head on the headrest and still couldn’t believe I was almost stabbed in the head, I looked at little Sunday who was already awake, he sat on a couch looking at me like he had never seen me before, his father called him to come back to bed but he raised his shoulder refusing his father’s order, his dad was already laying on the bed after asking if he should leave the candle on, I told him I’ll need the light then he gave me two tablets of paracetamol to cure my slight headache, he served me water and without wasting time I consumed it. I couldn’t sit back to rest as my heart couldn’t stop beating apace, my eyes darted round the house as I didn’t care if I was being suspected….I was too scared to pretend.

Little Sunday sat with his eyes wide opened, I knew I woke him up with my fight for survival, I could tell he was finding it hard to get back to sleep as his eyes were totally concentrated on me, I looked at him too smiling to him if that would cheer him up, I was so happy I had company that would see me through the night even if he was just a kid and we probably would not engage in any conversation because his language for now is not understood by any grown-up. I brought out my diary and my pen to do the usual, I got close to the candle and I put my pen on paper..

To Be Continued…

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