Home Short Stories The Ghost Tales

The Ghost Tales

The Ghost Tales -- Eneji Samuel
The Ghost Tales — Eneji Samuel

I am a ghost and this is a ghost tale; before I continue do me a favor, delete from your mind all the tales you have ever heard about ghosts, in the mildest way, they are all rubbish. Humans are like that, always creating lies and believing them totally. I don’t know if this will ever get to you humans, I just feel compelled to write, maybe someday a zang (what you humans call miracle) will happen and it will get to your hands, but I must also let you know that I’m doing this at great risk, if my fellow ghosts ever find out… Wait a minute, I think I perceive something, oh yes, I know it any day any time, that’s my wife’s fart. That was the most attractive force that pulled me to her. She happened to be very conservative with her farts, ghosts who have known her for years could not tell how her fart scented, and she liked to keep this to herself. She later confided in me that she kept a jar in which she farted, every morning; this helped her to keep the scent of her fart secret. Forgive me, I forget I’m writing to non-ghosts, well here is the thing, ghosts are attracted to their spouses by farts. The scent of the fart tells you who to marry and who to run away from. It is very unique, something almost akin to the genotype stuff humans sometimes do. The moment I perceived her fart I knew she was the one for me. The scent waltzed their way into my nostrils and stimulated my senses pleasantly, I was really lucky that day to have had this near heaven experience, well I’m in heaven already, and by that I mean something more sensational than heaven, she happened to have eaten an unfamiliar food that day so even though she farted into the jar, her rumbling stomach could not help but let out more gas again.

Now here is another thing, during weddings couples don’t dance, we are too civilize for that. Well civilize is the word you will understand, we call it achiabuni here. If someone were to say you are not civilized, the person will say obuachi re, with the re serving as not. It’s a messed up language – or should I say civilized one? – In which even a paraphrase could change a lot of things about how you say it. Back to what I was saying; couples don’t dance during weddings, they both fart and their farts do the dancing, now the deadlier the farts the more spectacular the dance, during our wedding my fart almost lost to my wife’s. I had taken time to study her fart and how it dances by opening the jar whenever she was not looking. So I came up with plans to get a deadlier fart than hers, I never knew she was planning same until the wedding revealed our plans. Hahahahaha you mustn’t let her know I said this, you should have seen her face that day, it made her so beautiful. This was a special moment for me.

Love is a strange toemotion; it is one of the emotions that survives death. I remember when as a human I fell in love with a girl that many considered too strange for me, we were perfect opposites, she liked to talk and air her views freely, as for me, most of my conversations took place in my head, I was very loud in my head. I could argue for and against myself and at the same be my own judge, I usually answer questions put to me in my head even before attempting to verbalize them and when I did talk, I revealed very little. Sometimes when a question is asked I intentionally ignore it, she happened to grow up among a people that spoke their minds whenever there was a need to. If they don’t want to speak they plainly tell you so and not just stay quiet. When in the company of a person who hardly responded to her enquiries, it made her quite uneasy and most times I was exactly like that. And because I was the shy type and kept most to myself and because she was so unlike me, wooing her was a next to impossible task for me. I had to create a character in my head, the character was a great lover and had all the qualities I lacked. When I spoke to her I imagined I was a tall muscular fair guy with a well courted afro that was charcoal black. In wearing this character like a cloth I would ask the character what he wanted, and it will flow out of me. Wooing her was an onstage performance for me; I was an actor playing a role on the stage of life. Well it worked for us. My love experience as a ghost is what I can’t capture sufficiently in writing it will be like mixing ulom with ipem it will always leave your teeth on the edge after eating. Apart from the fart, which is a giving among lover ghosts, our romance could lead us to play games. For us our favourite game is itung, a game where a ghost gets the chance to showcase his or her highest creepy nature. Mind you, we ghosts don’t consider this creepy, just imagine it’s the human version of buying flowers for a lover. Well, I don’t know if that’s even a good comparison. I told you it’s complicated. Scaring a ghost is an action that brings untold amount of joy, it’s like tickling a human. It’s actually a game where ghosts put on their most creepy performances with the intention to scare the shit out of another. And lovers look for inventive ways of carrying out their pranks. My wife and I will usually dedicate a whole day to playing pranks, we will leave our tortoise shell house early and set about our pranks. The tortoise shell we live in was a gift from my wife, one day after a game when we were seating, she bent her head right, resting it on my shoulder and pulled the shell from underneath her hair that was long past her shoulders, she held it in her hands for a moment her eyes all brightened up, and stared at the mesmerizing shell.

“It’s so beautiful” she said. Her skin started glowing and in no time I could see her bones because the skin became transparent. It usually happens like that when a ghost expresses deep emotions “from the deepest part of my bones I give you this gift, this shell that you must never part with, it’s a token of my love and you must cherish it as your bone”
“My bone! The only one whose farts stirs me beyond scintillating imaginations, trust me I’ll never part with it even for a thousand ghost lives. See how deeply you love this shell, I can see it in your bones, why don’t we make it our home. You know that any object you bestow your love on becomes sacred to me”

“That’s so sweet of you,” she replied all smiles. I could see her face radiating with joy, the breath coming out of her nostrils were full of love, I hastened to inhale them and held my breath letting them seep into my body. I stood up and took her with me, when we got to where we were staying, I used almost all the ghost energy in me to expand the tortoise shell to a big house.

I will get back to the writing later I can’t seem to get enough of this scent, the closer I get to it the better….

You won’t believe what I did, I followed the fart, perceiving and cherishing every moment of it, it turned out my wife was summoning me for a fun time, and we had fun, a fun I can’t share. Hmmm… I’ll share just this little and no more. Anyways, we did a fart competition again. I think I should bring you in on more fascinating facts about bowel discharges: Visiting the toilet is an exciting experience for ghosts it can be compared to the most pleasurable activity humans can think about. The longer one stays before going to the toilet the more pleasure one is sure to get. One gets two advantages from not going to toilet for long. 1) The scent of his fart becomes deadlier and that means more prowess and all. 2) The pleasure is enhanced on the day of discharge. This is an event that ghosts invite their friends and relatives to celebrate with them. Sometimes a ghost plans this for a whole year and get musicians to play melodious tones as he discharges the faeces, the music mingles sweetly with the pleasure of the discharge and creates an explosion in the brain that leaves one gasping for breath out of excitement. I am afraid you still don’t grasp the value of this exercise to a ghost. Let me share an experience, of course the experience is not mine I can never do such a thing to my wife. A neighbour of ours was fed a meal that made him defecate prematurely, of course his wife never did it on purpose, and she did not notice that the soup contained an alobo leave, it must have gotten in by mistake when she was chopping the leaves. I just woke up and saw heard some noise from the next compound, I quickly rushed out of our house that was made of a giant tortoise shell. On getting to where the noise emanated from, I saw my neighbour floating in the air and fuming with anger. I know what you are thinking, his floating was not because of any supernatural power, it’s an invention that neutralizes gravity, a device people wear on their feet and float whenever they want to. It’s more like the private rides you humans have. I guess my neighbour was floating because he was angry, and when angry one can do silly things.

“Do you have an idea of how much preparation I was making for the day I will visit the toilet?” roared my neighbour. Well I’ve been addressing him as neighbour because ghosts don’t bear names. Don’t ask me why, I have no idea.

“My husband it was not intentional, I was also looking forward to that day with you” pleaded the wife. The man struck his forehead forcing himself to concentrate, forcing himself to be rational. He chewed on his lips biting in the words and stopping them from coming out. I was about approaching him to beg him to be considerate, that there was always another time, when without warning he flew away. The next day in the evening I heard he had sued his wife to court and praying the court to declare her human, but of course the court never did, such a punishment is reserved for the highest of offences. A few days later we were laughing over the incident. My neighbour, he could be such a funny man.

Next to toilet visiting celebration, the next most celebrated event is deathday, just as humans have birthdays ghost have and celebrate their deathdays as they see it as a remarkable day in their lives, a day they made it to the better side of existence. The wealthy among ghosts usually have their exit from the human world dramatized, the bloodier and heroic it was, the more intriguing ghosts find it. In a bid to live up to the brutal expectation of ghosts, some fake how their deaths took place. An incident happened once where after someone faked the sequence of his death and was well applauded, a new ghost who had just come to the ghost world and not familiar with ghost politics and how incidents are manipulated to thrill, drew the attention of the celebrant to the mistake of how the death was dramatized. The celebrant ghost became angered and warned the ghost who made the revelation never to speak of what he was unsure of. Other ghosts joined in asking the ghost who made the revelation what his concern was, and what he intended to gain by such revelation? I could see from the look on the new ghost’s face that he was puzzled and wondering why everyone was looking at him as the one in wrong and whether they were not bothered that they were being lied to.

Like I said earlier other ghosts must never find out about this write up or they will declare me human to them. Let me explain: the greatest punishment to a ghost is not death, a ghost can’t die, and it’s not anything your human mind might easily conceive. A ghost is punished severely when the judge pronounces him or her human to other ghosts. The judge will proclaim thus

“You are hereby considered human to us” and all ghosts will start relating to you as if you are human. For example ghosts don’t shake hands when they meet, nor do they shake hands when they are introduced to others, but it is the last thing ghosts do before departing, it is considered a great insult for a ghost to depart without shaking another, but once you are declared human to other ghosts, ghosts will start shaking your hand immediately they meet you or before they even begin a conversation with you. Such conversations must be utterly necessary or no ghost will talk to you freely again. The punishment of being declared human to other ghosts only comes when the gravest of offences are committed. You might be wondering how other ghosts who are not around when the sentence was given get to know you were so sentenced, well, there usually appear a mark on your forehead that disappears until when needed, the mark is self-conscious and knows when to appear or disappear, when other ghosts approach, it will appear and warn them as to who they are communing with or about to commune with.

Ghosts rarely write, I guess that’s because they have incredible memories, they never forget, not even the minutest of details. Humans write to remember things or to tell stories. Ghosts hardly tell stories and they never forget. Deep down I’m not sure why I’m writing this. I guess it has to do with the fact that I was a writer in my other life and writers write because they can’t help it right? So I’m writing this. I’ve written quite a lot already and like you humans like to say, let’s not put all our eggs in one basket, let me see if I can send this through to you, I should be continuing this story later.

©Eneji Matthew


Comments are closed.