This is my entry for Jerry Banfield’s Supernatural Writing Contest, judged by Michel Gerard.
The Beginning
First of all I’ll like to start by mentioning the fact that I’ve had a lot of supernatural occurrences happen to me and around me, and normally I’d stick to one but I’m not sure individually they might be up to a thousand words specified by the contest, so I’m just going to start and see where the stories take me.
First Supernatural Occurrence: The Snake
I’ve always hated snakes. And it began when I was very young. I slept in the same room with my parents then. One night we were all asleep in the room, and the next thing I heard was mother waking up, screaming, then father waking up too, and mother shouting, Oh my God, Oh my God, Kill it, Kill it.
I had no idea what was going on, all I know was mother kept shouting as she scooped me up in her arms and took me out of the room, running like a mad person, and then once outside we could hear thumping and clanging metals.
After about a while father came outside, holding a dead snake on a stick. It was the first time I’d ever seen a snake. It was a fat snake, too, black with intricate scales. Father said it was a cobra. Now our room back then was very clean and very small; no hidden places, no crevices, nothing. We kept our doors locked and our windows had nets. And every night before we slept mother always sweep the room and make sure everything is safe. How the hell then did a snake enter?
We all believed it was supernatural. We were, of course, being targeted!
Second Supernatural Occurrence: The Road
A couple of years after the snake incident, we had a burial ceremony to attend in our home town. My father’s uncle had died and all family members were to return home for the burial ceremony. Now In our town they were notorious for all sort of demonic practices. It was a family rife with occult members, herbalists, priests and all sorts of traditional worshipers.
And on such occasions it was not uncommon for any member to be attacked spiritually. My father had left the town a while ago and had become a Christian, and the townspeople were not very happy about that. Mother implored her not to go, but he decided we have to. Family was too important to him.
Well we set out for the journey that day. It was a five hour journey from the city. After about three hours spent on the road, something weird happened: MY father lost control of the wheel. My mom was sited beside her and I was sited at the back, screaming as the car whirled from side to side. My mom was screaming too, screaming Jesus, Jesus, and my dad kept struggling with the steering, looking bewildered, asking, What’s happening, what’s happening.
Next thing I know was our car swerving into a ditch and everything going blank. By the time I could open my eyes I found myself beside a road, everybody shouting for joy. “He’s awake, he’s awake,” They all shouted. Then I saw mother scooping me up, crying. “My boy is okay, my boy is okay.” She sang.
Then I saw father too, himself as excited as the crowd.
Our car was a total wreck, and up till this day nobody could say how exactly it was that we survived. It was nothing short of a miracle. Not one person among us was injured. Not one!
Third Supernatural Occurrence: Hometown
With the help of some good Samaritans we were able to get our town in time for the burial. First thing we did, of course, was to get checkup at a small hospital—the only one in town. After that we went to our aunt’s house, where we were to stay for the duration of our visit. She welcomed us well, and gave us food and drinks. Mother told her about the accident and she was mighty excited and said the devil is a liar.
She told us of all the ordeal she had faced from the traditionalists after she converted to Christianity. Just yesterday, she said, her husband fell from the top of a palm tree. I was mighty tired and I couldn’t hear the end of the story before I fell asleep.
Midnight when I woke up, I saw everyone awake already. Mother, father, my aunt, and her two children. What woke me was the same thing that had woken them—incantations. We could hear it clearly all over the house, even though the sound was coming from outside. And the sound was not unfamiliar to the, I could tell, and father he said that was the incantation recited whenever a human sacrifice was about to be performed.
After a while terrible breezes started to blow and the little lamp in the house went off. I’d never been that scared in my life. My heart was thumping as though it’d burst out of my chest any time soon. And when the weird sounds started, oh I almost died then.
My aunt’s kids were a little younger than me then, and were all crying loudly. I don’t know why I didn’t cry but I was very close. The adults held hands and began to pray and speak in tongues. My heart kept thumping and the sound got louder. I honestly don’t know how long it took for it to die down, because in situations like that you definitely lose track of time. In my mind it lasted for about decades.
Well after a while the sounds stopped and the breeze stopped blowing. The adults kept praying though, and even after the kids stopped crying and fell asleep they were still praying. And even after I fell asleep, they were still praying.
It was pretty smooth after that, although a few confrontations did happen during the burial and all.
Over the years I would survive a couple more accidents, date a girl that was apparently a revenant, face a few witches, kill a snake or two in my room. But lately everything has been pretty smooth. It’s mostly because when you prove yourself tough they stop coming after you.
