The midnight Visitor

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Early morning devotion was a piece of mastery art in my home, it was a regular ritual. In a bungalow building, with three rooms, a sitting room and a hallway demarcating the sitting room from the kitchen and toilets. The crowing sounds of cock can be heard indicating it was morning already, beyond the windows lays darkness chiming through, it was 5am in the morning, a time to get up from bed and prepare for the day's chores before heading for work. The voice of my mother can be heard singing praises from the sitting room. Her voice is loud enough to disrupt the peaceful sleep I bargained for.

I sluggishly slipped out of the wrapper I used to cover myself with, cold breeze from the wooden window slept my feet and I resisted the urge to sleep more. With sleepy eyes I reluctantly stood up and found my way to the sitting room. My older siblings were already up singing praises and praying along with my mother and father. It was an early morning family devotion.

I couldn't join in prayer instead I coiled myself up on the sofa using the wrapper once more to cover myself, I drift off to sleep more.

"You cannot open your mouth and pray"

That was my mother's voice, like a preacher who preaches all the time, all her words fell on deaf ears.

"Things are happening Erica, you need to improve on your prayer life" She called out with concern but I felt less concerned.

"Ok mum" I said in-between yarns. I kept wondering whether witchcraft existed but it was a tale I never believed in.

I went about my daily activities, taking care of my morning chores before preparing for school and heading off.

In the later evening, we all surrounded watching movies and chatting before sleep came calling. I'm usually the first to sleep, so I went ahead to dress the bed. In the room that had two windows and I usually share the same room with two of my sisters.

My favorite spot is always at the window I usually sleep with my 2 sisters each one of us lying side by side. Our heads face the other window while I'm the closest to the second window, that was always my favorite spot as I love the inflow of flesh air from it.

The window was a wooden one, the mosquito net was neatly constructed coppled with the iron protector which was made with cast iron.

The croaking sound of the frog was the last I heard before drifting out to sleep, I was a deep sleeper, deep enough. I felt some sensation on my hand while sleeping but the dreamer world was adventurous and the thought of coming back wasn't close. It happened the second time, it seems I was in a dilemma, a dilemma to know whether it was happening real or in my dreams.

It came the third time, this time around more painful, the pain brought me back to life as I slowly opened my eyes to discover where the pain was coming from.

I was clutched close to the wall, my left hand outside, outside of the window and being held by someone.

The pain of my hands constantly being dragged was rubbing roughly on the window edge causing me pain and sensation. How my left hand got outside was a mystery I can't tell and the mission of the person that held it was something I couldn't comprehend.

I was in alarm when my brain comprehended what was happening, my heart thudding in my chest. I quickly got hold of my hands with force running to my parents room.

"Daddy Daddy"

"Daddy Daddy"

"What is it?" I kept screaming my dad's name on top of my voice, I didn't care whether it was midnight or not. After he had answered me, I kept on screaming until he got hold of me.

I was breathing fast like an asthmatic patient, I couldn't talk at the moment.

"What is it? Why are you screaming?" Was the husky voice of my father but I was quiet, it seemed the air was tight around us and the tension was rising. I clushed to my father , shaking and panting. I held him close, tears dripping down from my cheek.

I have successfully woken my mother too as she stood up to ask what happened. Questions I couldn't answer, I couldn't process. Where was I going to start from? Telling them that someone held my left hand outside sounds like a fairytale but it was real.

"Someone held my hand outside" I muttered audibly enough as I was too scared to talk, I was shivering like someone drained under the rain.

My both parents looked at me in amusement like I was a fortune teller. The expression on their faces shows that they didn't believe me.

But I got a glimpse of hope, I had a little evidence, the wound that occurred due to the friction between my hand and wall. I showed them, it was fresh and slight blood was coming out from that spot.

My parents became alarmed as my father sourced for weapons. I never heard footsteps leave and I never saw any face through the window, it still reflected the dim cold dark night. Looking through it I could see a shadow. I was deliberating whether it was my imagination or if it was real, my father flashed light through the window but there was no one there. I looked down on my hand , my imagination grew wide, what was the person's mission? That was the question I couldn't answer.

That scenario prompted me to be in alarm, that was the last time I slept deeply as every pin drop I noticed whenever I'm sleeping.