[i stole this piece from beibee's blog
I am the last person that would be afraid of spookies ? if at all they exist.
A cool night it was?here I was sleeping, or rather, lying on grandmother Atoke?s tile-made tomb: from womb to tomb, such is the journey of man. My grandmother had long been dead. The ants and like-species must have had a good meal while feeding on her body.
It was still night; the sky was in its darkest hue. The hovering clouds above shrouded even the brightest stars in the sky. The pervading atmosphere was thick gloom. Peculiarly as a recluse of sort, I dared to remain in the unholy darkness; outside the comfort of my room. Every member of my family was in the living-room having night-time t?te-?-t?te.
I was still on grandmother Atoke?s tomb. All of a sudden, I felt someone moving towards where I was?I felt it. I dismissed the thought. Still I heard sound of footsteps; the sound of the footsteps became louder; now I should take note. With the aid of my youthful eyes, I painstakingly screened the darkness; the oblivion had become obvious ? someone with a knife was coming in against me.
Before I could blink my eyes there appeared a long knife that glimmered in the dark; and it was descending?was it meant for me? Who on earth was holding this mortal weapon? Instinctively, I raised my body half-way, gave the knife-man a staggering blow in his groin. Oops! He managed a scream. Like the shrill of an insect.
There was palpable silence again. Could grandmother Atoke be watching this scene? I thought. Why such thought? As you should have known by now that I don?t believe dead folks are conscious of anything. Immediately, I got up from my resting place ? could not wait to see what the knife-man was up to next. I took to my heels. How far I had run I could not say?