"Oh my god, I'm dead!" I screamed at the top of my spectral lungs, but my cries fell on deaf ears. I was utterly invisible and inaudible to those around me.
"You succeeded in killing me." I raged, frustration building as I charged toward Uncle Charles with the intent to strike him, only to pass right through him and tumble to the floor. The chilling reality of my ethereal state hit me like a ton of bricks, and I sat there, tears streaming down my insubstantial form.
Amidst my despair, a voice from the crowd called out, "The doctor is here!" I hastily wiped my tears and stood up, desperately pleading with the doctor, though it was clear that he couldn't hear me. He proceeded to my lifeless body, completely oblivious to my presence.
"Doctor, please help me. Don't let me die," I implored silently, my voice lost in the void.
"Doctor, is she dead? Can you save her?" Uncle Charles inquired, wearing a facade of concern while I glared at him in exasperation.
The doctor conducted a thorough examination of my body, and I watched him with bated breath, my hopes resting on his verdict.
"Well, your niece isn't dead," the doctor finally announced after completing his examination.
An eruption of joy swept through the gathered crowd.
"Really?" Uncle Charles exclaimed a mixture of surprise and relief on his face.
"Yes, but her heartbeat is weak," the doctor added, tempering the jubilation with a sobering reality.
I felt a glimmer of hope for my survival. The prospect of being alive, even if just barely, brought a flicker of optimism to my spectral existence.
"Boys, take her upstairs," Uncle Charles ordered, and his henchmen promptly hoisted my lifeless body, carrying it into the house. The doctor followed closely behind, unaware of my presence.
I followed them up the staircase, walking in front of the doctor. The anticipation was palpable, and the air was charged with tension.
As we ascended the stairs, one of my uncle's men suddenly wheeled around and pointed a gun at me. My ethereal form quivered in fear as I held my incorporeal lips, shaking with dread.
The guy carrying my corpse threw the corpse on the floor as he approached me with a dagger.
As I watched the events unfolding before me, a sudden realization dawned upon me – they could see me! The men's attention had shifted from the doctor to my incorporeal form, confirming that I was visible to them.
"Please don't kill me," the doctor's desperate pleas reverberated through the air, but the men remained unmoved by his words. One of them drew a wicked dagger and, with chilling resolve, sliced through the doctor's throat.
"Oh my God," I cried out in horror, my ethereal form fleeing from the gruesome scene, unable to bear the brutality that had just unfolded.
**Back to the present**
The day I met my untimely end remained etched in my memory as if it had occurred only yesterday.
******
I managed to flag down a motorcycle, as it appeared that no taxis were willing to head to Oyigbo due to the poor road conditions. The heavy rain from last night had rendered the road treacherous and nearly impassable.
"I can't go to Oyigbo for less than ₦1,000, let me tell you," the motorcycle rider asserted, his dialect laced with a hint of negotiation.
"Alright, let's do ₦1,200," I agreed, feeling tense and anxious because I was already running late for my interview.
"₦1,500 is the final offer, sir. If you don't agree, you can disembark," he declared firmly, his tone unyielding.
"Fine, you can go," I grumbled, frustrated by the inflation in transportation costs, which was driven by the deplorable state of the road and the exorbitant fuel prices.
For those who lived around the Oyigbo area, the difficulties of navigating its treacherous roads were a familiar ordeal. Nevertheless, I had no other choice but to continue my journey. It turned out to be a long and arduous ride to Oyigbo, compounded by the road's deteriorating condition, but the motorcycle I had chosen surprisingly sped along, getting me closer to my destination with remarkable efficiency.
Here's an extended version of the text:
I paid the motorcycle rider and, in haste, entered the venue for the interview. My heart raced with anxiety as I approached the receptionist inside the company.
"Good afternoon, please, is the interview still ongoing?" I asked, hopeful that I hadn't missed my chance.
The receptionist looked at me and shook her head. "The interview ended an hour ago," she replied. "Didn't you receive the memo stating that the interviews would begin at 8 a.m. and conclude at 11 a.m.?" she inquired, her tone sympathetic.
"F*ck," I muttered under my breath, a deep sense of disappointment welling up inside me.
I walked out of the company, my footsteps heavy with frustration. To make matters worse, I now had to make the long trek back home because I had no other money left in my pocket.
Since I had left home to face the challenges of life on my own, disappointment had become a constant companion. I had almost secured this job, and losing it left me seething with anger. As I walked along the road, the battered condition of the road made my old shoes groan in protest. The mud and stones seemed intent on destroying what little remained of the shoe's already tattered leather. I needed new shoes, but the harsh reality of my financial situation kept me from making such a purchase.
Different thoughts swirled in my mind as I trudged along the sun-soaked road. My legs ached from the long journey, and the oppressive heat made my predicament even more challenging. I wouldn't be enduring all this hardship if my father had extended a helping hand, but he chose to squander his earnings on friends and alcohol.
My mother was my only source of assistance, but I had stopped accepting money from her so she could focus on her well-being. As I continued my arduous walk under the scorching sun, I couldn't help but vent my frustrations aloud.
"Wait a minute," I muttered, halting in my tracks and turning around to survey the considerable distance I had covered. "Am I going to walk all the way home on foot?" I asked myself incredulously.
"I can't go on like this; I'm exhausted," I lamented, speaking to myself without regard for the passerby who cast curious glances my way. The journey of a thousand miles begins with transportation fare, I thought ruefully. This journey was indeed fit to break me, and I could feel the fatigue weighing me down.
Sighing deeply, I turned to resume my journey, but that's when I noticed a girl sitting by the corner of a massive tree, staring at me with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.
Most people would glance at someone and then avert their gaze, but this girl's unwavering stare struck me as odd.
"Excuse me, it's not polite to stare like that," I reprimanded the girl, raising my voice. She seemed completely absorbed in observing me, and it was beginning to unnerve me.
"Am I speaking to you?" I questioned, pointing my finger at her. She glanced around nervously.
"Me?" she asked, as though uncertain of her presence in this encounter.
"Yes, you! Staring like that isn't polite," I chided, growing increasingly frustrated.
"Wait, do you mean me? Can you see me?" she inquired, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"Of course, it's you. Why wouldn't I see you? I caught you staring at me, and I didn't appreciate it," I said, my irritation evident.
"Wait, can you see me?" she pressed, her excitement growing as she stood up from her spot.
"Yes, it's you! Why wouldn't I see you? I caught you staring at me, and I didn't like it," I reiterated.
"Oh my God, I can't believe you can see me!" she exclaimed, her joy evident.
I found her reaction perplexing. Was I talking to a girl who might be suffering from a mental condition? I thought.
"Why can't I see you? Are you the only spirit who's invisible?" I jestingly inquired.
She nodded, confirming my suspicions. "Wait, are you a spirit?" I asked, taken aback by her affirmative nod.
"Yes, and nobody else can see me," she informed me, her smile never wavering.
Goosebumps erupted all over my body at the shocking revelation. I was convinced that I had encountered a girl who might be suffering from a mental disorder. I glanced around, only to discover that nearly everyone nearby was outside, observing me. Some children were laughing, while others shook their heads in apparent pity.
"People can be so cruel; how could they make a young man like this go mad? He's even well-dressed," a woman nearby remarked to her neighbor.
"Maybe it's a recent bout of madness," the neighbor speculated.
"Hey, hey!" the girl shouted, tapping me on the shoulder.
"Ghost! Ghost!" I yelled and, in a fit of terror, ran away, discarding my bag in the process.