Last Night with Horroria

Reading Time: 3 minutes

Olaitan shares an eerie experience. She uses the metaphors of and darkness and few other elements to create an atmosphere of fear. She had a brush with someone beyond death. Her account in .

I could not figure out the nature of the noise I heard; I was not sure if it was a cry for help or that of a woman in labour. Maybe the cry of a child under the torture of his or her parent. I just could not identify the meaning of the noise. But, the more I heard it, the more I felt uncomfortable!

It was dark and I was too tired to stand on my feet. Few minutes later, I decided to go after the noise that seemed like an endless cry. I took my searchlight and gathered the tattered cartons that I used as my bed to one side of the uncompleted building.

As I moved closer to the direction of the noise, it began to reduce. I expected it to be clearer and  louder. I was scared beyond description, but it was as if a force was behind me; pushing me to the direction that seemed to be the source of the cry. I was bitter and my eyes began to leak; I felt tears rolling down. ‘Why the tears?’ That question kept ringing in my head. Suddenly, I heard a quick noise that sounded like a church bell. I was more scared and turned to run away, but I had myself against the wall.

After some minutes, I stood against the same wall and breathed like it was my last. The longer I breathed, the harder it was. Like a snail, I walked toward the direction of the noise. The farther I went, the lower the sound of the noise. Deep within my heart, I knew I was not myself; it was as if a force was behind my thoughts and actions.

Nevertheless, I continued and it was like the search was not going to end. Suddenly, the searchlight went off! I felt as if my life was shattered! I was confused; I did not know whether to turn back or continue the search that later seemed meaningless to me. The most tragic part of the scene was that I could not even locate the position of the searchlight; it fell from my hand immediately it went off. I became hopeless and bitter. I say on the floor, made up my mind to face whatever came my way. “After all, a new morning will come,” I said to myself.

All of a sudden, a heavy wind blew and a light shinned from afar. I was confused to the extent that I was not sure of my safety. I refused to stand on my feet; I was still. I watched the light as if it stared at me.

After a long period of , a calm and innocent voice warned me to run to the light as fast as possible, else, my life would be like that of a monster that died in the tunnel. Without delay, I ran to the light as if it was my last hope of rescue, only to be exposed to the greatest shock of my life!

As I ran toward the light, I expected the shadow of a person, but there was none. I ran farther to get to the spot where the light stood. When I almost got to the spot, the light went off again. At that point, I could feel my body growing cold and lifeless. I was glad; I thought death was about to place a knife on my neck. After all, death was better than the monstrous drama that simultaneously unfolded.

In the midst of confused thoughts, the light switched on again!

I was determined to grab the light after the count of five. The moment I stretched forth my hand to grab the light, it went off again and my hand landed on what I guessed was the body of a  being. I screamed my strength out, and it was as if something held me to the floor; I could not move.

I tried to crawl away from the unknown body, but a cold palm gripped my left wrist and force me to sit. I was already on the inside; I was totally in another world, the world of the deceased.

As I sat on the floor, a tiny female voice said, “My name is Horroria.” I could not wait for another second, though it was dark, I ran as fast as I could. I had no idea of the outcome of running away, but I did not stop.

After running for a while, I had to stop because I was not breathing well and my legs could not run any more.

Where I stopped the race was where sleep took over my weary body. By the time I was awake, it was morning already and I was glad. I made up my mind that that would be my last time sleeping on the streets and in uncompleted buildings.

©Olaitan Maryam

Pic sourced from author.


Olaitan Maryam Mojisola is a Nigerian. She is also a Student, Blogger, Sales Representative, Poet, Writer and an Essayist. Some of her poems have been published in anthologies, on webzines and blogs.