SOME NIGHTS YOU JUST CAN’T SLEEP

“JUST AN IMAGE 1”

I jumped out of my bed with my eyes wide open filled with fear and terror, as hot sweat comes out profusely from my body. It is midnight. I always wake up because of the same nightmare. But this time, this one was different. The darkness was thick and strong, I could literally hear the calmness of the night. The calmness of the night was so loud that a pin fall could be heard. Then I heard a little sharp tiny voice sobbing. This sobbing voice troubles and wakes the night. I was terrified to behold this strange visitor, a grotesque image sitting by the side of my room door. Immediately I had my heart in my mouth, my eyes popped wide, the shinning of my eyes would have illuminate the entire room but the think darkness was too strong as it was in the beginning before creation. My head pounds like the beatings of the drum of surugede.

“Who’s there?” I struggle to mutter as my voice quivers and quakes in between life and death. “Who’s there?” this time a little courage in multiple fright. I tried to erase the illusion of my head and the blurriness of my eyes by wiping them with the back of my hands, but yet this is reality. The images now stands before me as real as life. In split seconds I had died in fear. My head simply ran through series of the horror movies I saw before going to bed. Now, the images comes closer, and the more closely it comes the more my head swell with thoughts of how I will die. In snail movement I crawl out of the bed to the switch. The image was just stirring at me, perhaps waiting for me to behold its grotesque face before I die. Each step I take propels the step of this wild image.  As I switch on the light, the image vanishes leaving me in total awe relieving me of my fright. I saw my bag and on the floor by the door side and my cloth hanging over it, perhaps this has given me sight of that image I just saw. Perhaps, the evil image wants to use this to deviate my attention. I removed the cloth and bag and stocked them into the wardrobe.

There comes this whisper, “Help me…!” this whisper was very subtle and gentle but most horrific and terrifying because it is coming from my bed side. “Help me… help me…” the whisper begins to resonate into a sound that will so reach the magnitude of a scream. I gradually move towards the window, peeping through the window to see the bringer of such sounds. I saw her in the thick cold, under the thunderous rainfall. She is sitting under an unknown withered dwarf tree. She is shivering almost like an epileptic sicker. What is she even doing there all alone by this time of the night and under this stormy rain? In this thoughts of mine, she swing at head like Medusa to my fright, she stirs into my eyes like the evil in the popular “hopes of the living dead” movie. What I saw, none has ever seen; her face grotesque and distorted. This shriveled figure staggers up from the ground, her stump legs leaving the ground in a bit. She is as white as the snows of Australian. He eyes gushing out blood, mixing with the rain to produce rivers of blood as she walks forward. She stretches her hands towards me, they are indeed talons of witches as her flesh are tearing and wearing off.

“Help me!!!” this time with fierce anger and rage. The scream was like the roar of a thousand warrior, teleporting the wind of the tsunami of Japan and the quakes of Haiti that rocketed me to the other side of the room. The banging on the window shakes the foundations of the building. The place is silent as the land of the dead. The dead silence ignite a million fright in my soul. Then this giggle form the other side of the window kills my manliness. “Please little boy, save a dying soul. Its cold out here, let me in please…” this time with a cry of a little baby. “Leave me the hell alone” I screamed in fear with my lips fidgeting. Then begins to knock mildly on the window “kock…! Kock…! Kock…!” every knock with an interval that comes with a subtle sob and a pathetic plea. “Help me…! I… WILL… RIP… YOUR… SOUL…” echoes thunderously with a rushing mighty wind. The room becomes upside down, scattering and clattering everywhere leaving the room in disarray like a mad man’s den. The room is calm again, my heart is beating harder than the Zulu drums. My eyes like the American Central Intelligence torch, my head thinking as fast as Jack Bauer. Immediately, someone around my age runs into the bathroom, yet the door was never opened. There is the heavy fall inside the bathroom like someone just dropped dead.

Thick blood started streaming out from the bathroom door. The blood comes out in the form of footsteps, then hand print on the walls, immediately I realize that my death is eminent. The blood from the bathroom begins to flood into the room like an erosion. The door is quacking, opening slowly. The bathroom is empty, the streaming blood vanishes. The curtains are now moving towards a direction in a sonorous harmonic manner. Someone is moving behind these curtains. “Come and kill me and stop torturing me!!!!” I shouted as the movement continues even faster with a wild demonic laughter that seems to come from the devil’s belly. The clock is ticking, “Tick! Tock! Tick Tock!” in a back and forth movement and it has since remained 12:47 am. The movement behind the curtains continues to the mirror area, and then it stop. The silence was now louder. Suddenly, the mirror begins to crack, each cracking producing drips of blood on the floor. Then she appeared! She opens her mouth wider than the shape of her head, bringing out dead rotten substances. Her hands are coming to get me. This is the end of my story. I am going to die. With my head bowing down in terror, I wait for her to take me with her. Then she screams so loud to the shattering of the mirror into shreds, I could still hear the resounding echoes in my ear drums even after the mirror is broken. Then came another scream from the other room. It is Ray’s room, he is my younger brother of 13.

“TO BE CONTINUED”

By penhouse

Jaja Godspower is a creative thinker and business strategist. He an award winning writer, blogger, author and a film maker from Nigeria. He is motivated with the desire to grow brands and businesses through adequate branding and visibility with his writing expertise. He is the founder of Penhouse Initiative, one of the largest growing writing hub in Africa.

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