Some years back, I was spending some time with my archeologist friends “Lily oakman, pearl Eshiet and Rita Dominic, exploring old, supposedly haunted, places. We were at the Apostolic Church at Ikot Ebo, where a girl named Nne Nnene was buried in her family sepulcher in 1901.
Uncanny screams were reportedly heard by the rural dwellers time and time again, but never finding out the cause of it. Ten years later, when they opened the door to the sepulcher to bury the next family member who had died, finding her corpse powwowed in the nook next to the door, arms outstretched as if still trying to find the exit
Lily and Pearl thought it would be a ludicrous idea to play the knock knock game “we used to play this when we were younger” “you’d enter a dark room and yell, knock knock Lucy, three times and something like a demon would appear and would scare the shit out of you”. Whether it was our imaginations or actually real
We didn’t care about that, all we were interested in, was the fun.
It was a very scary game Rita wasn’t in support of the idea because she was scared of the dark. I let them shut the colossus stone door (which was originally open) behind me and told them to open it once they hear me scream. I screamed “knock knock Lucy” three times but nothing seemed to be happening
I got bored and tried to call my friends to get me out but the bastards left me there… I tried and tried, screaming at the top of my voice, using all of my strength, but I couldn’t commove the door, it had taken five people to put it in place. In the dark, I retired myself to the night ahead of me.
I am not easily frightened, but sitting there in a corner, surrounded by a predominating pressure that I couldn’t begin to elucidate, the darkness itself seemed to try to consume me. From all around it felt like weight was pressing against my body, making even breathing hard. I sat in the dark for what must have felt like a decade.
Then I heard the strange noises. They were faint at first, I was confident it was my imagination and I was probably just freaking out, but soon they became more and more frenetic as time passed. I huddled up in one of the corners farthest from the door and tried to cover my ears but nothing could stop the growing clamor. This all may have lasted for a few minutes, but each second was an unbearable eternity.
source
Then, I heard a loud scream echo through the darkness,pain and fear had no subject to restraint in this wall. The scratching stopped. For the first time I could distinctly make out the sound of a little girl sobbing to herself saying
> I am only a helpless little girl, I lost my way home, I want my family back I hate this place
It sounded like the pitiful gasping of one without a shred of hope left.
Such sorrow , such pain, I began to fit myself in her shoes that I think “how to be afraid” seemed to slip out of my mind.It was as tho all her suffering seemed to resonate. Incomprehensibly, I realized I had started apologizing aloud for everything that had happened to her.
I wasn’t sure she heard me or was even aware of the fact that I was present there ,the sobbing continued and I could again hear the sound of fingers scratching the tomb door.
I was out, wasn’t sure how long, but I was roused by a loud and powerful clunk as the door slammed against the ground outside. I could tell from the light ray outside that it was almost dusk , so I must have passed out for at least an hour or more
My friends rushed in with the police to pick me up from the ground as I laid lifeless and dumb.My eyes darted from the authorities, to my friends and to the door line with a certain type of frenzy. A blackish liquid had stained my lips and chin. Several large tears ran down my clothes as though I had been savagely clawed by some animal, yet my skin was strangely left undamaged. The police tried to get answers out of me,asking if I saw anyone or if that person had hurt or coerced me in any way,but the only word I could say was
I’m just a helpless little girl, I lost my way home, please take me home’.