Whimper

Seun has always been, well, Seun. Not just now that we are older, since when we were little children running around the streets with our panties, rolling around motorcylcle tires, and girls playing "ten-ten", or "Suwe", both a game of counting. I have always been where I was supposed to be, among my peers, the boys. But Seun, she's been different. She loves spending time with us boys, competing with us, even sometimes getting into fights with one of us. We, boys have always taunted her and asked her to go count "Ten-ten" like her so called mates. She wouldn't hear of it. She was what would be termed a tom-boy. We never knew a word like that existed until when we grew older. We never called her that. We just taunted her and left it at that. If that has been the only way she was different it would have been okay. It had not being. It still wasn't. And now that we were out with friends at a restaurant that also doubled as a bar. I just kept checking her out every other minute or so, silently hoping one of those things wouldn't crop up like many times they did.

*

One incident that stood out was when I was having one of the soundest sleep after a day of being the higest goal scorer in the impromptu match with kids from the other street. A sleep filled with such bliss and joy, the recidue of whipping their butts at street socer. Something touched the sole of my foot. I shook it off. Rats always ran across the room. The rat came back and this time it became a hand around my ankle, my leg, on my thigh. I shook like an earthworm on which salt has been poured. I reached to my right and grabbed my small torch. My finger danced on it, searching for the switch. Have you ever wondered why things always change their location when you urgently need them? I bet you're wondering as you read this. Same thing I was wondering. After few long seconds of franctic search, my thumb the elluding switch, I flick it on and swung it towards the rat playing the game of pat on my body. My sister stared at me blinking at me in the flood of light. Seemed the light was louder than her voice because I could not hear her whisper my name repeatedly. More like the face in front if me was a broken walkman playing the same part over and over again. I almost hit the face. She grabbed me.

"Ṣina, there is a ghost at my window."

"Seun, ghost? What makes you so sure"

"Come see for yourself." 

Outside, that wind that always blows before a heavy rain falls was blowing. It was a bit cold. We walked to the door of her room. She stood at the door, pointing at the flailing at her window. I pointed my torch at it.

"Is that not the shirt Mama said you should go remove from the line in the evening yesterday? The wind must have blown it there"

"Are you sure? It looks like my shirt but look it beckons."

"It doesn't. It's the wind playing trick on you."

I moved to the window. Good thing there was a cut out in the net that we use to close the window. I tugged on the shirt and the stationary arm came loose. 

"Now there are two arms waving at me," she said with a tight whisper as I go look for something to unstuck the collar from where it got stuck at. I found a hangar and used it to free the unlucky shirt which got abandoned by its owner because she taught, she taught it was something else.

*

At that night out, I decided to relax and enjoy being with friends and not really be troubled by her and her thing. But you know how it can be when you have known someone for quite some time, especially if you are a bit close to the person, you are always worried for them.

Then it occured. That shift in countenance that always came before the actual thing. I was at a 'snooker' table (pool). I saw her moved back with a jerk. The streets were lit, so was the restaurant. I cannot mistaken that movement for another. I reminded myself of the decision Itv can made and turned to the guy beside me, "Na my turn?"

He nodded. I studied the balls on the table. It seemed like I was just seeing them for the first time. I moved to the other side of the table. Chose my target and bent to take my aim.

"Guy."

I looked up.

 "Wetin (what)?"

He gestured with his chin behind me. Before I could even turn to check, I felt the hands on me. The way they held was not different front decades ago when they used to grasp me. I felt a breath on my cheek.

"This place is bewitched."

"Bewithched," I replied as I turned towards Seun.

"Hmmn," she affirmed.

I took her by the arm leading her away from the snooker table.

"Guy, you no dey play again?" one of the guys asked.

I considered then gave up my stick to the gy.

I took her to a place a bit away from others.

"What do you mean by bewitched?" I asked when we were a bit out ear shot.

"I mean bewitched," she said and pointed at a spot. 

I turned towards the direction she pointed.

"Can you see it?" she asked.

" See what?"

"That."

"I can't see anything." I didn't finish saying that when I saw something.

"Did you see that?" I asked bewildered.

"The hand?"

"Yes. Somthing like a hand."

"That is what I'm asking to look at. I have been seeing it since we got here. It was not that obvious at first, but it kept becoming more obvious and frequent by the minute."

"Ha," we both screamed with tight lips as a hand like thing leapt out so close to us. I admitted I was so scared.

Then it happened again, and again.

"Something must be causing this," I said after few minutes of observation and sharing her fright.

"This one is different. Even you can see it and is scared," she retorted. "We need to get out of here."

When it comes to things like this she always find unbelievable strength. This time was no different. She was already pulling towards the other side of the apparition even though our route is the other way. 

We had to say quick goodbyes and we left.

"We are going the wrong way," I pointed out. 

She stopped, contemplated, then crossed to the other side of the street, pulling me along of course. We made our way back passed the frong of the restaurant and bar. She kept giving the spot of the apparition a side glances like she was watching out in case the hand decides to come for us.

In the haste, I got to look back and looked at the building next to the joint we left. Right there at the balcony of the first story was a piece of clothing dangling whenever the wind blew it and close to the streetlight. I saw the so called hand formed in my peripheral vision as the piece dance to the beat of the wind. 

I would have told her about, but past experiences held me in check.