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Chapter 13 - The Strange Man In A Robe

Mirabel woke to the sound of a muffled scream. She bolted upright, her heart pounding in her chest. The sound had come from her mother's room.

"Mother?" she called out, throwing on her robe as she hurried down the hallway. She pushed the door open to find Mrs. Ruth sitting upright in bed, clutching her blanket. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with terror.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Mirabel asked, rushing to her side.

Mrs. Ruth shook her head, her breathing shallow. "I saw him again... the man in the black robe. He was standing right there," she whispered, pointing to the corner of the room.

Mirabel followed her mother's trembling finger, but the corner was empty, shadows stretching across the walls from the faint moonlight seeping through the curtains.

"It's just a nightmare," Mirabel said gently, though her own voice wavered. "You're safe now."

Mrs. Ruth grabbed her daughter's hand, her grip surprisingly strong. "It wasn't a nightmare, Mirabel. He was real. And I think he left something behind."

Mirabel frowned, glancing around the room again. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Mrs. Ruth pointed to the bedside table. There, lying on top of a book, was a single black feather. Its edges shimmered faintly in the dim light, as if touched by something unnatural.

Mirabel hesitated before picking it up. It was unnaturally cold, sending a chill through her fingertips. "Where did this come from?" she whispered.

"I don't know," Mrs. Ruth replied, her voice trembling. "But it wasn't there when I went to bed."

Mirabel placed the feather back on the table, wrapping her arms around her mother. "It's okay. I'll stay with you tonight. Get some rest."

Mrs. Ruth lay back down reluctantly, but Mirabel could see the fear lingering in her eyes. As her mother drifted into an uneasy sleep, Mirabel stared at the feather, unease gnawing at her. There had to be an explanation.

The following morning, Mirabel decided to investigate. She wrapped the feather carefully in tissue paper and placed it in her bag. She couldn't ignore the sense of dread it brought, but she told herself it was just her imagination. After all, her mother had been through a lot ,maybe the stress was playing tricks on both of them.

Later that day, Mirabel visited the hospital to speak with one of the nurses who had attended to her mother. She hoped for some reassurance that nothing unusual had happened during Mrs. Ruth's stay.

"Good afternoon, Nurse Grace," Mirabel said as she approached the desk.

The nurse looked up and smiled warmly. "Mirabel! How's your mother doing?"

"She's much better, thank you. But..." Mirabel hesitated. "She's been having these strange dreams. She keeps talking about a man in a black robe. Is there any chance someone unusual came into her room while she was unconscious?"

Nurse Grace frowned. "A man in a black robe? That's odd. We have strict protocols, only authorized personnel are allowed in the patient rooms. And I don't recall anything like that."

Mirabel nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. "I thought as much. Maybe it's just her imagination."

"Still, I'll check the security logs for you," Nurse Grace offered. "Just to be sure."

Mirabel thanked her and left, her mind still restless. On her way home, she stopped by a local library. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but the black feather and her mother's strange visions had unsettled her deeply. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story.

Meanwhile, back at home, Mrs. Ruth was having another restless day. She tried to busy herself with household tasks but couldn't stop thinking about the man in the black robe. That afternoon, she decided to call an old friend who was a pastor that she hadn't spoken to in years.

"Pastor Jeremiah it's Ruth," she said when he answered. "I need your help."

"Ruth, it's been ages! Of course, what's troubling you?" he asked, his voice warm and reassuring.

Mrs. Ruth hesitated before speaking. "I've been having visions. Strange ones. And I think they're connected to something dark."

The pastor's tone grew serious. "Tell me everything."

As Mrs. Ruth recounted her experiences, Pastor Jeremiah listened intently. When she finished, he was silent for a moment before replying. "Ruth, this sounds like more than just a dream. The man you're describing, it reminds me of something I've read about before. I'll do some research and come by tomorrow."

"Thank you," Mrs. Ruth said, relief washing over her. "I just need to know what's happening to me."

That evening, Mirabel returned home, her bag heavier with several old books she'd borrowed from the library. As she entered the living room, she found her mother sitting quietly, staring at the television but clearly lost in thought.

"Mummy, are you okay?" Mirabel asked, setting her bag down.

Mrs. Ruth turned to her, her expression unreadable. "Pastor Jeremiah is coming tomorrow. He thinks he might know something about what I've been seeing."

Mirabel's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You called him?"

"I had to," Mrs. Ruth said firmly. "There's something going on, Mirabel. I don't know what it is, but I can't ignore it anymore."

Mirabel nodded slowly. "I'm glad you reached out. I've been looking into it too." She pulled the wrapped feather from her bag and placed it on the table. "We'll figure this out together."

As the two women sat in silence, the house seemed unusually quiet, as if holding its breath. The black feather on the table seemed to pulse faintly, its edges shimmering in the dim light.

That night, Mirabel found it hard to sleep. Her thoughts kept drifting to the black feather and her mother's haunted expression. What was happening to their family? As she lay in bed, she swore she heard faint whispers carried on the breeze, but every time she strained to listen, the sound faded.

The next morning, Pastor Jeremiah arrived at their home promptly, a thick leather-bound book tucked under his arm. He greeted Mrs. Ruth warmly, but his face grew serious as he sat down across from her and Mirabel in the living room.

"I've spent the night searching for answers," he began. "The man you described,the one in the black robe..matches accounts I've read before. These stories date back centuries, often linked to unsettling omens or… curses."

"Curses?" Mirabel repeated, her voice skeptical but tinged with unease.

Pastor Jeremiah nodded gravely. "Yes, though not always in the traditional sense. The figure is often a harbinger—someone, or something, that signals a shift. It's said to appear to those touched by extraordinary circumstances, usually in times of great danger or transformation."

Mrs. Ruth paled. "But why would he appear to me? I'm no one special. I've done nothing to invite this."

"It may not be about what you've done," the pastor said gently. "Sometimes these things are drawn to pain, loss, or.." He paused, glancing at Mirabel. "hidden truths."

Mirabel stiffened. "What do you mean by 'hidden truths'?"

Pastor Joseph hesitated before replying. "Often, when families are affected by such phenomena, it's tied to something unresolved

an event, a choice, or a secret. These things don't appear without reason."

Mrs. Ruth leaned back, her eyes filling with tears. "We've suffered enough. My illness, the hospital… and now this."

Mirabel placed a comforting hand on her mother's shoulder but turned to the pastor. "If this presence is tied to something unresolved, how do we confront it? How do we stop it?"

Pastor Jeremiah's expression darkened. "That's the difficult part. The accounts I've read suggest it doesn't leave until its purpose is fulfilled or until the family it haunts unravels the reason for its presence. You'll need to uncover what's drawn it here. But be warned: the closer you get to the truth, the more dangerous it may become."

A chill ran through the room, as if the house itself were reacting to his words.

"What about the feather?" Mirabel asked, retrieving it from her bag. "Does this mean anything to you?"

Pastor Jeremiah's eyes widened as she unwrapped it. He didn't touch it but leaned in to examine it closely. "This isn't an ordinary feather. It's a marker, left behind as a sign. Its coldness and shimmer… it's almost as though it doesn't belong to this world."

Mrs. Ruth shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. "What do we do now?"

"You'll need strength," the pastor said firmly. "Whatever this is, it's not finished with you. Keep this feather safe because it may hold a clue. And if anything else happens, you must call me immediately."

As Pastor Jeremiah left, Mirabel and her mother sat in silence. The weight of his words lingered in the air, heavy and oppressive. Mirabel glanced at the feather once more, its faint shimmer catching the light like a taunt.

The living room was cloaked in silence. Mirabel sat across from her mother, absently toying with the edge of her sleeve, the black feather still lying on the table between them like a dark omen. Mrs. Ruth's gaze remained fixed on it, her unease growing by the second.

Their brooding thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. Mirabel jumped slightly before standing to answer. She opened the door to find Chief Mina on the threshold, his broad figure blocking the late afternoon sunlight. Dressed in a perfectly tailored dark blue suit, he exuded an air of authority.

"Chief ," Mirabel said, surprised but polite. "Good afternoon. Please, come in."

"Good afternoon, Mirabel," he replied warmly, stepping inside. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd check in. How's your mother doing?"

"She's doing much better, thank you," Mirabel said, leading him into the living room. Mrs. Ruth looked up as they entered, her face momentarily brightening before her usual guarded composure returned.

"Mother, this is Chief Mina," Mirabel said, gesturing to him. "I don't think you've met formally, but he's the one who helped us get that herbal remedy when the doctors couldn't do much."

Mrs. Ruth extended her hand, a faint smile on her lips. "Chief Mina, thank you for your kindness. We're grateful for what you did. I don't know how to repay you."

Chief Mina waved her thanks away with a dismissive but good-natured chuckle. "Please, Mrs. Ruth, no need for formalities. It was the least I could do. I'm just glad you're feeling better."

As they exchanged pleasantries, Chief Mina's gaze drifted to Mirabel's hand, where a gold ring caught the light. He frowned slightly, then tilted his head, his curiosity evident. "Mirabel, is that an engagement ring?"

Mirabel followed his gaze to her hand, her cheeks warming slightly. "Oh, yes, it is," she said with a small smile.

"When did this happen? And by whom?" Chief Mina asked, his tone teetering between curiosity and a subtle reprimand. "I can't believe you didn't tell me the good news."

Mirabel hesitated, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "It happened a few days ago. His name is Femi. He proposed just after…Well, Mother became sound".

Chief Mina's lips curled into a tight smile, but his eyes didn't match the warmth of his expression. " Mirabel, I've started considering myself a family friend. I would've expected you to share something as important as this."

"I'm sorry," Mirabel said earnestly. "With everything that's happened, I suppose I didn't think to mention it. But thank you for your congratulations."

Chief Mina chuckled, but something about the exchange caused Mrs. Ruth to narrow her eyes. She observed Chief's face carefully, the forced smile, the way his voice lacked the enthusiasm of someone hearing joyous news for the first time and he didn't seem quite surprised. It struck her as strange—too strange.

Before Mrs. Ruth could dwell on the thought, Mirabel picked up the black feather from the table. "Chief Mina, I wanted to ask you about something," she said, holding the feather up carefully.

He raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

Mirabel hesitated before explaining, her voice low but steady. "My mother's been having strange experiences. She keeps seeing a man in a black robe, and this feather appeared in her room the same night she saw him. Pastor Jeremiah thinks it might be a sign of something unnatural."

For the first time, Chief Mina's composure seemed to falter. His eyes fixed on the feather, and though he quickly masked it, there was a flicker of something in his expression..fear? Recognition? Mirabel couldn't tell.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Mirabel," he said, his voice measured, "you shouldn't let an old pastor scare you with superstitions. These things are just tricks of the mind. Stress can make people imagine all sorts of things."

"But the feather," Mirabel pressed. "It's not normal. It's cold, and it wasn't there before."

Chief Mina shook his head. "It's nothing to worry about. Trust me. Don't let that pastor fill your heads with nonsense. Nothing will harm you. I'll make sure of it."

With that, he stood to leave, brushing invisible lint from his sleeve. "Take care of yourselves. And Mrs. Ruth," he added with a thin smile, "if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me."

Mirabel walked him to the door, thanking him again for his visit. But as soon as he stepped outside and she closed the door behind him, something strange happened.

The feather, lying on the table, quivered. Mrs. Ruth froze, her breath catching in her throat as she watched it shift slightly, as though stirred by an unseen force.

"Mirabel," she said sharply, her voice trembling.

"What is it?" Mirabel asked, rushing back into the room.

Mrs. Ruth pointed to the feather, her face pale. "It moved. Just now, as he left."

Mirabel stared at the feather, her unease deepening. "Maybe it's just the wind" she murmured, though the windows were closed and the air was still.

Mrs. Ruth shook her head, her expression dark. "No, Mirabel. It wasn't the wind. Something about that man… something isn't right."

Mirabel frowned, unsure how to respond. But deep down, she couldn't shake the feeling that her mother was right. Chief Mina's visit had left a shadow over the house, one that neither of them could explain.

And though Mrs. Ruth had Pastor Jeremiah to turn to, she felt a rising dread. To involve anyone else would risk exposing her family's troubles and her own fragile reputation. But as she stared at the feather, shimmering faintly in the dim light, she knew one thing for certain: whatever was happening, it wasn't over and it was only the beginning.