Chapter -3
( I have a thing for ghosts)
The next dawn was tiring enough for me to even open my eyes. Feeling the cosy warmth, I sat up tipsy when the sudden flashback of the previous night rushed into my veins.
I was on my bed, snugly tucked in like a baby, when I peered about aimlessly. The uncanny part was this. When I discovered that someone had put white powder on my chin and linseed oil on my back, it became much more repulsive. How come? I am unable to clarify. At this point, all I knew was that the object was probably some kind of "skin Walker".
Well, my fear almost subsided as I felt a strong feeling that the thing was harmless. I barely relaxed and took care of my morning hygiene when I heard something break in my kitchen. My house had rooms interlinked; hence, the living room was attached to the kitchen. With blood splatters, strains, and footprints everywhere, the living room appeared more like a murder scene. A dead duck with all its organs exposed enough to make a non-vegetarian throw-up was lying in the kitchen. I felt queasy at the smell of the flesh. I turned back, shaky and stumbling. Something grabbed me as my eyes went black.
I heard a Pacific voice say,
"Oh! Some folks have hilarious bravery but are such weaklings." The voice was harsh and comforting, but not nearly as harshly comforting as the way the holder caught my waist and hauled me up to my room.
"You weigh more than a rice sack, despite the saying that ladies are as light as feathers. Maybe you are a witch rather than a woman." It feels like a slut to hear insults in a sultry voice.
My blurry eyesight began to clear up, and I yelled, "Get out of my house." I'm not sure why, but I didn't get shivers down my spine when I saw that it was the same crawler from the night before. I even lost track of what I had just witnessed.
Pay attention; this is my space. Second, I caution you not to dare scream like you did last night. Go now if you are afraid of me. If not, take a seat in a peaceful corner."
"You need to clean the kitchen. I've gone vegan since today because of you."
"Aren't you terrified, girl? Don't you feel chilly? I'm a dead person."
He was muttering something to himself when I realised he was standing on my purse—possibly knocked over during yesterday's chaos. This man was also hideous on the inside, and the purse cost me three thousand. My rage knew no boundaries. I cried out and flung my pillow at him.
"Seal your mouth and get to work"
Even the devil cannot defeat a maidan when she is enraged. For this reason, I would advise all guys to act very carefully when handling women's fashion.