Ghost Episode 1
It was 3.00am when I yelled up from sleep. The ghost of my late fiancée had been hunting and haunting me and I lay nearly every passing night, with one eye wide open, restlessly waiting only for the dawn to break. The day I stabbed her to death because she denied me sex, I cleaned every spot of blood on the floor of the house and like a monk in the hood, I prayed for her possessive soul to rest in peace…but it never did. Emotions warred inside me and without turning around; I could picture Annabelle’s baffled expressions and angry eyebrows staring at me. I could remember the night before she passed on. I pulled her to my side, wrapping my arms around her and holding her so closely, so passionately, burying my nose in the elegant silk of her beautiful dark hair. I had missed her so badly and I literally ached to hold her. I sat on my bed wondering if she could let bygones be bygones and pardon me even in death.
My relationship with her had spanned through some five memorable years of love, joy and sweet tidings. Like a thief in the middle of the night, she broke into my heart and pierced it with love’s sword. Who dared say it wasn’t natural attraction and chemistry? The smell of my romantic history with her choked me out of the dungeon of silence to spin this story in the marketplace of thought. My chest had been bursting with heartfelt secrets from the lashes of history; my past had been threatening my present and its passage to the future. I tried and tried and tried but I couldn’t remain mute about the past and my wicked kiss with death’s dagger; the one I used to cut short her life. My heart had been buffeted by storms and turbulent with grief and truly seeking relief even if for just brief a while. I loved her so deeply and thoughts of her incite my eyes’ brimming with tears.
The beginning of my end with her started when I forced her to abort her pregnancy while we were in the final year in the university. She loved me so dearly and wanted to keep the baby but I was mad on her. I whined at her to abort the pregnancy and because of her passion for me, she did just as I had asked. We continued our love odyssey on the convoluted pathway of love becoming sore. She reluctantly allowed me to touch her since then and on the day I killed her, I wanted her so badly but she refused because she was recuperating from the trauma after a car crash she luckily survived. I was lost in lust and struggling to have her, she slapped me. I became enraged and without realizing what I was doing, I stabbed her and just before her last breath, she said: In pieces shall you live until you make right your wrong.
Standing from my bed and going to the bathroom, I heard the sound of someone showering even though I lived alone. I walked and opened the bathroom door but saw no one and all sounds ceased. Immediately I hung my towel and was about to turn the shower, I saw water falling from the tip of the shower and the ghost of Annabelle handing me soup to rub on my body. I shouted fearfully and tearfully but she went on. I ran out, quickly dressed up and entered my car. Inside the Siena, my mind wasn’t stabilized and I remained their staring blankly at the steering wheel. I slowly breathed in and out even as my mind was filled to the brim, with images of her and how we were truly lovebirds some years back. I was always trapped with images of her and I always ended up embarrassing myself in the presence of my friends and co-workers who always said I was hallucinating.
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As I was driving into the office complex where I worked, a chill went through me as I heard the ringing sound of my phone. Whether it was fear or anticipation, I couldn’t say. I picked up my phone and seeing the caller’s name, I shook my head which had begun to pound from fear of Annabelle’s ghost.
“Hey, Angie baby.” I answered the call, trying to be calm.
“Hey Andrew, what’s up?” Angela said from the other end so fluently in her slight nasal twang.
“I’m good. I have been thinking of you all time long.” I lied. That was what she wanted to hear.
“How about going to the movies tonight?”
“Oooh, that’s perfect. I’ll be at your place to pick you up.”
“Thanks dear…I love you.”
“I love you too.” I said smiling. I was a little shocked by my new claim of love. I hadn’t planned on meeting Miss Angela but I wasn’t going to back down. The idea of clearing my mess with Annabelle occupied the front page of my mental screen but I was trying to find love anew in Angela. She was a beautiful damsel with clear-cut features, smooth flawless skin, long black hair that she always kept neat and nicely set. To say the least, she was tall, and of straight and sure posture, nearly always nicely dressed. Loving Angela seemed a far too simple a thing to say for the way she felt about me. We met first in the movies and had always spoken on every dragging day.
I came down from the car and walking to the office, I saw Annabelle touching her flawless hair and smiling at me. She was seated in front of the receptionist desk seemingly uttering some words. I was running back to my car when I saw her beside my car. I closed my eyes and after some minutes, I opened it and saw my boss staring at me.
“Andrew, any problem with your eyes?” My boss asked. “I can’t see you with your spectacles.” He said further.
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“Oh, my spectacles!” I exclaimed. “My doctor said I shouldn’t use it for some days and let’s see whether I would be able to see distant object properly.” I lied. Besides, I had been suffering from long-sightedness.
“Let’s get to the office then, there’s so much work to do.” He said firmly and I responded with a sigh.
As I walked side by side my boss, I was thinking of the ghost of Annabelle. It hadn’t been easy. In fact, seeing her gorgeous body wherever I walked had been the most difficult thing I’d ever had to go through in life. But the one thing that seemed to be partly helping me through it was knowing I had the love and support of Angela.
As I stepped my feet inside the office building, every Tom, Dick and Harry exchanged greetings with my boss as I waggled my eyebrows on them all. Shooting my assistant a smile, she turned an envelope over and around, examining it and handing it to me and saying, “I have a message for you from the boss.”
“No way,” I said. “What kind of message in an envelope?” I roared because my boss had never delivered a message to me by writing.
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