4th April, 2016 Writers

In less than five seconds, the hand on my shoulder stopped being the problem.
My fretting became intense because whoever placed his/her hand on us refused to utter a single word.

I thought about running but what would happen to Mimie? I would outrun her definitely but I would risk loosing her. Am I even able to run away from this person or this thing. My thoughts underwent quick alterations. What if it wasn't human?

Maybe an ogre with horns, a tail, four hands, one eye or even Medusa's head. Anything could be possible. This is a graveyard. A graveyard.

A croaky voice sounded from behind;

"What are you doing here? "

His voice alone looked like someone who would probably score an A in my initial description.
Hoping not to see a man with a half burnt face, we turned and behold it was the cemetery's security guard.
We heaved a sigh of relief.

We narrated our short experience to him as he led us to the security house.
There was something weird about the way he walks.
He made these funny gestures with his hand at intervals. We couldn't bother much about that. At least, he is human. Or so we thought.

Leaking roofs, walls with washed paints and cracks, thick cobwebs dangling above us were things I caught glance of immediately we entered his chamber.

The intensity of rain had increased and I could see some graves whose coverings were broken, filled with water. He saw my face and answered my unasked question.

He mentioned how only a smattering of people return to carryout maintenance works on some of the dilapidated graves. And even this happens once in about 8 years. He pointed to an almost broken shelf with papers that looked like records. He said even if a forest appears here by tomorrow, many wouldn't bother.

He left us for some few minutes and went into his inner room. I looked at Mimie and tapped my wristwatch. She understood the message. It was time to leave.

When he came out, we immediately told him, we would be leaving since the rain is now only drizzling. He concurred and volunteered to escort us to the gate.

We walked through the path slowly than normal. It was dark and we could barely see the path.

We were still far off from the exit even though we could sight the gate from the distance. Quick successions of lightning and we saw a glimpse of what was happening before us.

One of the grave coverings swayed sideways as if someone or something underneath was looking for a way out. He looked at us, dipped his hand into his front pocket, handed over an envelope and screamed; "RUN!"

Rivers, Nigeria
  • The Undead Never Dies

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