The ghost who died | By: michael ogah | | Category: Short Story - Dark Bookmark and Share

The ghost who died

It seemed so unreal that the eclipse had beclouded the entire week. Seven days in a row was no joke. Heard Christ was going to come that year and right then I knew my clubbing, drinking and wayward lifestyle had to come to a screeching halt.



Even though I used to think religion was over rated, that period a sudden moist despair evaded my conscience and all my wrongs that I had once involved myself in gripped at me guiltily.



New Years Eve had just dawned on us all and we were at the park singing praises as the clock tick tucked into New Year’s dawn. I was reciting a voodoo slur my pastor had written down for me while I communed with him concerning the waving lifestyle I had been committed to.



I always felt like there was something fishy about my pastors Sunday service. The every time Sunday holy communing thingy seemed uncanny as I had been to other churches and knew quite well compared to other parishes and churches alike that communion was not every Sunday. So I was not surprised when my niece questioned my supposed ‘tongues’.



 Slowly shutting my eyes in weary of the night. My heavy eyes dropped and when they awoke, there was I , on a long queue with black rags covering faces and voices murmuring like I were in a hospital subscribing for medical attention.



My heart began to pump frantically and I panicked, I began walking person to person, asking- Where am I? No one answered with tears engulfed in their distressed eyes. I ran to the first man on the queue and lo and behold it was I, lying suited with arms chest lined above me. I screamed-NO! And then I awoke to eternity.



Life seemed different here but quite unreal. Painful yet everlasting. I used to think I wanted to live forever but now I realize I WAS WRONG.

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