MY CHRISEVE VISITOR – Chapter Two

 MY CHRISEVE VISITOR – Chapter Two

Thanks for the comments on the previous chapter. I appreciate. smiles.

 

“What’s with that?”

She got her lips back to normal.

I didn’t bother asking further as she said it was nothing. The choristers finished and the priest took over as she got up.

“Where are you going?” I whispered but she walked, unheard. “Come back,” the people seated beside me were looking at me as though as I was one weirdo. “Heh!” I laughed and relaxed again. Where is she going? I watched as she moved to the priest’s side. I was curious to know what was it she wanted to do. If she was really a ghost like my mind had made known, how was I able to feel her? ​I couldn’t understand how.

​  Watching her fingers click, the priest dropped dead right before my eyes.

​  The whole congregation was plunged into chaos. “Somebody call 911!” everyone was running helter-skelter

​  I could do nothing but watch, clamped to the spot.

​  No one could see her but me.

​  Turning around like one who was in a runway show, she was out of sight.

​  “What have I done? What was I thinking?” My mind wasn’t at ease. Abigail was not just a ghost. She was a murderer!

​  No—

 

​  “Hi ya!”

​  “Who are you?” I was seated in my living room when she came. My mind kept replaying what had happened in the church. St Andrews church was shut down as a result. Though temporarily, I doubted people would ever want to go there because of the terror witnessed.

​  “What’s your mission?”

​  “My, you ask too many questions,” she chuckled, making to sit beside me.

​  “What do you want from me?”

​  She arched her brows and questioned, “Again with the ‘wh-s’? Why are humans so inquisitive?”

​  “Like you weren’t one?”

​  She cackled and crossed her legs. “You really want to know who I am?”

​  I swallowed at her question.

​“Like I said I’m Abigail,” she tilted her head to the side, looking as though she wanted to study me.

Fuming hard, I made to say—

“Shh—” came rigid, chapped finger on my lips, stopping me.

​“I am Hazel,” she came clean. “Hazel Dardar.”

My jaw dropped open. “You’re joking!”

“But I’m not,”

“You’re not Hazel, are you?”

“Why, of course I am.”

I was bewildered.

Hazel Dardar was a character in the book I used to read when I was nine.

THE SLAYER QUEEN—

Hashtag Hazel Dardar!

How can a fictional character be much real?

Hazel wasn’t a ghost.

She was…

“HAZEL DARDAR!”

My mind was read perfectly.

“Hazel?” I called. “Hazel?!” I called again to be sure.

Spreading her arms, she said, “The one and only.” She smirked.

I found it hard believing. If she was really Hazel, how—I was knocked out immediately.

 

×××××

“Wakey wakey,”

“Mm… where am I?” My head hurt real bad.

Hazel was staring at me. She had this creepy face, making her look like a clown—a female clown!

She was just as the author had described.

Clown face—

Ponytails—

She was malevolent, though my favourite story villain.

In the novel, Hazel had died from a terrible plague. Having been abandoned by the people she loved, she grew cold and cursed all men. Just before she died, she swore never to let them rest. And as she did, she took her final breath—

“Oh, you’re really going to love this,”

“Love?” I muttered weakly. “Where am I?”

“Nowhere you should be concerned about.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Oh, quit it already,” she said.

“What’s that smell?” I coughed hard, almost choking.

“Death’s smelly feet.” Her sarcastic reply sent shivers.

I knew I was going to die. Hazel meant trouble!

“Release me!” I demanded. “I demand you release me now!”

Her Royal Evilness cackled instead.

Why does she always do that?

“You’re really funny, you know that?”

I smirked. “I’m glad you’re finding my predicament funny.”

“Do you always have to reply?”

“Why are you yet to ki*ll me?”

Miranda’s voice came in at that minute. “Jake—”

“Miranda?”

“Jake—”

“Miranda!”

Hazel continued with her silly cackles.

“Jake? Jake—” Miranda was staring at me. “Jake, what in the world…?”

“Miranda!” I hugged her tight, glad she was there.

“What on earth…?”

“I’m so happy to see you.”

She pulled away. “Thought you were mad at me?”

“Oh, forget it, baby. Mm. Come here!” I hugged her again, not wanting to let go this time.

The doorbell rang, interrupting. Squeezing my face, angry it actually was, I let go of my girlfriend and made to answer it. “Be right back.” I told her and left.

I couldn’t believe I was dreaming all along. Must have fallen asleep on the sofa. My! One hell of a dream that was, I shook my head and opened the door.

“Brownies?”

It was her.

Hazel showing up in front of my doorstep was one jolting move—and disastrous.

Walking in like she owned the place, she surveyed the area, rolling her eyes at me, as she shifted them to cut at Miranda.

“Baby, who is she?” Miranda made towards us. “And ooh, is that brownie I smell?” Miranda rubbed her hands with excitement, fixing her eyes on the girl, as she made to slip her arm under mine but stopped.

“You didn’t think you were dreaming all along?”

Miranda asked, “Hm?”

“You sure weren’t thinking that, were you?” a villainous smile took control of her lips.

Hearing the chandelier dangle, looking up at the ceiling, the chandelier moved and settled above Miranda, coming loose immediately as it broke free.

“Huhahaha!” Hazel cackled with all evil gaiety, seeing blood splatter on the once clean tiles.

“Miranda!”

“I’m only beginning,”

I gaped as she clenched her fists in the air, clamping me to the spot.

Trying to wiggle free, the box she held pulled open to reveal millions of roaches, coming right at me.

“That’s right, my pets. Go to daddy!”

I screamed, seeing them climb up; some finding their way to my ears, while some moving freely into my nose. “Ahhh!”

“I love the sound of tasty bloods—” I heard her say as I dropped on the stained tiles.