August 20, 2025 • 17 mins
#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #politicalhorror #westafricanhorror #lawyerstory #corruptionhorror #psychologicalthriller This gripping horror-drama follows a West African lawyer whose career and life spiral into darkness after confronting powerful state forces. Haunted by threats, betrayal, and a land consumed by chaos and decay, he faces a harrowing battle for survival and sanity. A story blending political thriller, psychological horror, and cultural tragedy set against a backdrop of ruin and unrest. horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, politicalhorror, corruption, psychologicalhorror, westafrica, lawyer, betrayal, haunted, survival, urbanhorror, fear, culturaltragedy, darktruth, mentalcollapse, thriller
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
I hate this state. My biggest regret was moving here.
I looked her dead in the eyes, my voice flat
but seething. I wanted her to hear the weight of
every word before she got comfortable in that chair. It
didn't matter that she was a native to this state.
This state, this state had bled me dry, piece by
piece since the day I stepped foot within its border.
(00:22):
Thriving on my suffering, I lost my civility, a beautiful wife,
a lucrative career in freedom. I clenched my fists, pushing
my knuckles hard against the under side of the cold
metal table. I hate this damned state, I screamed inside,
the words too heavy to escape my throat. I could
almost imagine the tears that should be streaming down my
(00:44):
unshaven cheeks. I hadn't cried since the day I came
out of my mother's womb, gasping for breath in one
of the poorest slums in the world. There hadn't been
time for tears in my life, And somehow, sitting in
this sterile interrogation room across from a pale, square jawed
white woman felt like some twisted form of achievement. I
(01:06):
was a West African, an extremely resilient one. At that
I was adaptable to any environment. Mister fan fan bully,
she said, stumbling and squinting at the folder in front
of her. It's fawn bullah, fawn bullay. I spat my lips,
curling with irritation. You can say it right, inconsiderate as mincompoop. Strange,
(01:30):
with my life seemingly upside down, I still could not
utter a single curse word. The power of a Christian's
upbringing I guessed, shaped by a mother who refused to
give up on faith or on her family. Even now
in my adult years as an atheist, I appreciated it.
A Christian upbringing was what had carried me to the
(01:50):
success I knew before this downward spiral walked out on
by my father and already expecting twins, She'd had two
options in our unforgiving slum to feed her family, use
her body or her head. My younger brother and I
were indebted to her for choosing the latter. My mother
had been creative, relentless, finding ways to make things work
(02:11):
when we had nothing. Up before dawn, she'd fry akra
on charcoals. Even now, I could smell those bean cakes.
Drifting through the air as she sold them on the roadside.
When acra and dry rice parcels weren't enough, she'd make
ginger beer, always cold and spicy, pouring drinks to customers
in the heat of the day. But in the slum,
(02:33):
money wasn't easy, and feeding a family took more than
street selling. Yet mother always found a way, cleaning houses
in the wealthy districts, or lugging buckets of water and
hauling sand on construction sites. She taught herself to sew,
piecing together lap of suits and stitching school uniforms, pouring
every penny into us, her children, so we'd a food
(02:54):
and more importantly, a chance at an education. Emmanuel, I
want you to be some You are going to be somebody.
Those words would always echo in my mind. When there
was nothing left and we'd go to bed hungry for
days on end, she'd take us to the church. In
my country, there was no welfare, no food stamps, only
(03:16):
the kindness of the congregation and pastor Samuel, who knew
everyone in our neighborhood by name. He'd hand us warm food,
sometimes even rally the church members to help with the
little things like medicine or clothing, even helping my mother
deliver my youngest siblings, the twins, when she couldn't afford
hospital care. Pastor Samuel he'd seen something in me. He
(03:38):
noticed my curiosity, my fascination with the books he kept
tucked away on the dusty shelf in his study. First
he handed me the Bible. I read it cover to cover.
Then Achebee's Things Fall Apart, then Servantes, Melville, Homer, and Twain.
Those books opened my mind, showed me possibilities I'd never
(03:59):
dreamed of. When I'd finished secondary school. It was he
who handed me an application and encouraged me to apply.
Said I had a future waiting far from here. And when,
against all odds I won the lottery, I promised myself
I'd make it count. I arrived in Washington, d C.
With nothing but the clothes on my back. Driven by
(04:22):
the resilience my mother instilled in me and Pastor Samuel's
faith in my potential, I worked and sent money back
home whilst studying tirelessly through college. Eventually I earned an
acceptance at Georgetown Law, then graduated to join one of
the world's most prestigious law firms. Every success I achieved
was rooted in those early lessons of survival and determination.
(04:44):
Surely life could not be this cruel, to come this far,
just for it all to end like this. Mister fawn bully,
mister fawn bully. Her voice sounded distant, like an echo
in a tunnel. But then something sharper snapped me back.
Her pen. The scratches of it, each rough stroke against
the notebook paper cut into my thoughts like sandpaper on stone.
(05:08):
I felt my fingers clenched tighter, my knuckles pressing harder
against the table. She had said my name at least
three times, but I kept my focus locked on the
sound of her pen, dragging with pointless purpose. It was
all I could do not to lunge across the table
and yank it from her hand. Then came another sound,
one I hadn't registered until now, the fluorescent lights overhead,
(05:30):
their electric buzz grinding in my ears, pulsing with a
steady hum that matched the beating of my temples. Each
crackle felt like a hot needle behind my eyes. Her
breathing joined in next rough and labored she'd taken along
in hal Then a quick sniff, swallowing the mucus lodged
somewhere in her throat. Every breath grated against my nerves,
(05:52):
and every time she pulled in that air, that mucus.
It took every ounce of self control I had not
to slam my fists on the table and tell her
to blow her damn nose. And as if that wasn't enough,
she started tapping her foot a sharp, mindless rhythm. Each
tap of her heel on the linoleum floor felt like
a hammer pounding in my head. I took a deep breath,
(06:15):
willing myself to stay calm. Lashing out at this woman
wouldn't help my case. No, it'd do the exact opposite.
Being pinned for the murder of an elderly woman only
to then explode in front of a forensic psychologist would
be the last nail in the coffin. And besides destiny,
(06:35):
She'd be certain for sure, and so would her father,
my once biggest supporter. You were right, baby girl, I
could almost hear her father say, his voice laden with disappointment.
If he's crazy enough to kill an old woman, I
can't imagine what he put you through. I exhaled, slowly,
unclenching my fists, lifting my hands up to lie flat
(06:55):
on the table. I could keep it together, calm. This
was my life's blood. After all, I was a lawyer,
a damn good corporate one on his way to becoming
partner before this mess. I would answer every one of
her questions with unwavering control. I would deny every charge,
and I would direct her to the real culprit or culprits.
(07:17):
I knew who was to blame, but since arriving here,
it seemed no one could listen long enough to hear
the truth. My nerves were frayed. I must admit this room,
this woman, with her incessant scrawling and sniffing, it was
all chipping away at me bit by bit, And somehow
that seemed to sum up everything about this state. Noistar
(07:39):
dot asterisk, nothing but noise, not just any ordinary damn noise.
Though like the usual city sounds I'd grown accustomed to
over the years, this one was much worse. A noise,
so chaotic and at the same time a grinding wheel,
wearing you down to your most vulnerable, invasive. More than ever,
it spread into every corner of your mind until you
(08:01):
were hollowed out. I exhaled hard, squeezing my eyes tight
shut to keep it all in check, but the memories
came flooding back unbidden. The first day Destiny and I
crossed into this state border teeming with excitement, fresh as newlyweds.
We'd met at Georgetown, fallen hard for each other, and
walked across the commencement stage as husband and wife. What
(08:25):
could I say? When you know? You know? And I'd
known from the moment I first saw her. Drawn to
those warm brown eyes and that bright, beautiful smile, Destiny
was empathetic to her core. That's what I loved most
about her. She just got me, or at least she
used to. Now I couldn't understand why she'd suddenly turned
(08:47):
against me. She wasn't just my wife. She'd been my
best friend by the time we were married. She'd learned
enough of my mother tongue to chat with her and
my siblings each month when I called home. It was
endearing hearing the two of them chatter and laugh on
the phone for hours, as if they'd known each other
all their lives. Sometimes I'd step in to translate a
(09:09):
mist word or two, but mostly they'd talk like giddy
teenage girls. My mother adored her, and at the end
of every call. She reminded me she was waiting on babies.
I'd laugh, telling her to be patient. America was expensive
and starting a family was something Destiny and I wanted
to plan carefully. Destiny and I had a plan one
(09:31):
we were both committed to. We were young, just beginning
our careers as a corporate lawyer and a family lawyer,
and had mapped out our goals carefully a couple of years,
working hard, saving up, then buying a modest house in
cash before we even thought about kids. We'd both fallen
under the spell of Dave Ramsay back in law school,
(09:52):
and in our spare moments, we'd binge watch his YouTube videos,
fueling our belief that we could make that dream a reality.
Like squirrel stashing acorns, we'd agreed to save every dollar
we earned along the way. That's why we chose this
state over New York City, despite both our jobs being
in Manhattan. This state was cheaper, better for saving, and
(10:13):
we'd found a second floor apartment. The apartment in an
old building was far from perfect, but it felt like
a beginning. The rent was relatively cheap, and we were
within walking distance of the train station with a direct
line into the city. We were full of hope, full
of plans. Back then, it felt like everything was right
(10:34):
there waiting for us to reach out and grab it.
Moving day was exhausting, but there was a thrill to
it too, the kind that comes from finally starting something
new with the love of your life. Destiny and I
lugged box after box up the narrow stairwell, brushing past
old banisters and worn carpet as we made our way
to our new place on the second floor. Just as
(10:56):
I set a box down to unlock our door, I
caught sight of an elderly couple standing next to the
door beside ours, watching us with interest. Hey, there, called
the woman, waving us over with a broad smile. She
was short, with silver curls and a light complexion that
matched her husband's. I'm Patty and this is my husband, James.
(11:17):
We're your neighbors. Destiny and I exchanged a look, then
walked over to introduce ourselves. James, a tall, wiry man
with a grizzled beard, gave me a nod. He was
shorter than me by at least a couple of inches.
If I had to guess, I stood a solid six
feet four inches without shoes, regardless, He stayed quiet as
(11:40):
Patty launched right into conversation. Oh we're just so blessed
to have you all moving in, Patty said, clasping her hands.
I can tell you too are not trouble. Oh no,
Destiny said, chuckling. My husband and I are far from Tierro.
What is it you too do for a living, Patty,
he asked eagerly. Leaning in, Destiny looked at me before answering,
(12:05):
we're both attorneys. Well, thank the Lord, Patty said, practically
beaming as she nudged James in the ribs. I told
you they weren't trouble. A power couple like Michelle and
Baraque just what this building needs. Far from the Obamas,
I said, laughing lightly. But Patty was already off on
(12:25):
her next thought. It's been terrible with these students, she continued,
shaking her head. Drunk parties every weekend, music so loud
the walls shake, and that terrible skunklike smell filling the halls.
I nodded, recalling the nearby university we'd passed on our
drive in. Yeah, I see why it attracts a lot
(12:46):
of students. James gave a weary sigh. We've dealt with
it all. Fistfights, shouting matches, you name it, absolute heathens,
Patty exclaimed, Then, leaning in closer, she low her voice
to a conspiratorial whisper. But you know, none of that
was as strange as the last tenant in your place.
(13:07):
Destiny raised an eyebrow. Strange how Patty's expression turned serious,
her smile vanishing. She wasn't like the other students. This
girl she was different, quiet, gloomy. She'd never say a
word to anyone, never smiled, wouldn't even look at you
if you said hello, Just a dark soul. I glanced
(13:30):
at Destiny, who had gone still watching Patty intently. Did
something happen? I asked? Patty nodded, her eyes narrowing. At night,
we'd hear chanting from her apartment, some strange language I'd
never heard, and she'd play this eerie music. I told
James more than once that girl's a witch. I'm sure
(13:53):
of it. She crossed herself quickly, a flicker of fear
in her eyes. Destiny, a little unsettled but more curious, asked, really,
oh yeah, really? One night there was a loud racket
coming from her place that we thought had to be
something serious. The next thing we know, the police show up.
(14:14):
They broke down her door, restrained her, and took her away.
I think her parents staged an intervention and had her committed,
because we never saw her again. And she jacked that
place up too, James said, glancing at Patty before continuing on.
Workers were in there for weeks after. I think they
had to get half of Patty's face brightened with sudden energy.
(14:38):
Oh yes, they had a whole separate dumpster just to
get rid of her stuff. I overheard some workers saying
they'd never seen anyone wreck a place like that. I
mean it was like I shifted uncomfortably, only half listening
as Patty continued talking. I kept a polite smile on
my face, though I found myself watching her mouth move rapidly,
(15:01):
words pouring out like a bad case of diarrhea. At
her first pause, Destiny and I took the chance to
jump in, thanking them both for the welcome, before making
a quick escape back to our door. Once we were inside,
Destiny shook her head, stifling a laugh. That woman is
wearing that poor man down, she said. Let's hope I
(15:22):
don't turn out like that one day only if I
turned superstitious too, I said, making a cross over my chest.
Destiny laughed softly. She reminded me of my grandma, your grandma.
I thought I was looking right at my mom. Did
I tell you she wanted me to pray over this
apartment before we signed the lease, as if we had
(15:43):
time to wait and pray in this market. My mother
still did not know about my change and faith since
moving to the States. She didn't even know that Destiny
was an atheist. On our calls. We never brought it up,
not me and certainly not Destiny when I passed the
phone over. My mother's hymns and praises to the Lord
were always met with a simple amen from me, a
(16:05):
familiar ritual I knew she took comfort in. As the
sun set through our living room's bare window, I wrapped
my arms around Destiny's waist, taking in our new place.
Patty hadn't been wrong about the renovations. The fresh paint,
polished cabinets, and brand new appliances were clear evidence of
a recent overhaul. If the last tenant's chaos had led
(16:27):
to this, we had lucked out with a newly renovated
apartment at a bargain price. Over the next few days,
we unpacked, had new furniture delivered, and transformed the apartment
into a cozy sanctuary of our own. Within two weeks,
we'd settled into a routine, commuting together to and from
the city, arriving home in time for dinner, and unwinding
(16:49):
at night. Ideally that was our rhythm, though both of
our jobs demanded long hours, but Destiny and I did
our best to make it work. We were home buties anyway,
happy to spend week ends in cooking together, playing board games,
and dancing around the kitchen. But as they say, good
things rarely last. Our time in this state had barely
(17:12):
begun when the first rude intrusion of noise shattered our peace,
to be continued. Slash a West African extremely Resilient, adaptable
to any environment by West African writer Josephine Dean Slash
The End
I hate this state. My biggest regret was moving here.
I looked her dead in the eyes, my voice flat
but seething. I wanted her to hear the weight of
every word before she got comfortable in that chair. It
didn't matter that she was a native to this state.
This state, this state had bled me dry, piece by
piece since the day I stepped foot within its border.
(00:22):
Thriving on my suffering, I lost my civility, a beautiful wife,
a lucrative career in freedom. I clenched my fists, pushing
my knuckles hard against the under side of the cold
metal table. I hate this damned state, I screamed inside,
the words too heavy to escape my throat. I could
almost imagine the tears that should be streaming down my
(00:44):
unshaven cheeks. I hadn't cried since the day I came
out of my mother's womb, gasping for breath in one
of the poorest slums in the world. There hadn't been
time for tears in my life, And somehow, sitting in
this sterile interrogation room across from a pale, square jawed
white woman felt like some twisted form of achievement. I
(01:06):
was a West African, an extremely resilient one. At that
I was adaptable to any environment. Mister fan fan bully,
she said, stumbling and squinting at the folder in front
of her. It's fawn bullah, fawn bullay. I spat my lips,
curling with irritation. You can say it right, inconsiderate as mincompoop. Strange,
(01:30):
with my life seemingly upside down, I still could not
utter a single curse word. The power of a Christian's
upbringing I guessed, shaped by a mother who refused to
give up on faith or on her family. Even now
in my adult years as an atheist, I appreciated it.
A Christian upbringing was what had carried me to the
(01:50):
success I knew before this downward spiral walked out on
by my father and already expecting twins, She'd had two
options in our unforgiving slum to feed her family, use
her body or her head. My younger brother and I
were indebted to her for choosing the latter. My mother
had been creative, relentless, finding ways to make things work
(02:11):
when we had nothing. Up before dawn, she'd fry akra
on charcoals. Even now, I could smell those bean cakes.
Drifting through the air as she sold them on the roadside.
When acra and dry rice parcels weren't enough, she'd make
ginger beer, always cold and spicy, pouring drinks to customers
in the heat of the day. But in the slum,
(02:33):
money wasn't easy, and feeding a family took more than
street selling. Yet mother always found a way, cleaning houses
in the wealthy districts, or lugging buckets of water and
hauling sand on construction sites. She taught herself to sew,
piecing together lap of suits and stitching school uniforms, pouring
every penny into us, her children, so we'd a food
(02:54):
and more importantly, a chance at an education. Emmanuel, I
want you to be some You are going to be somebody.
Those words would always echo in my mind. When there
was nothing left and we'd go to bed hungry for
days on end, she'd take us to the church. In
my country, there was no welfare, no food stamps, only
(03:16):
the kindness of the congregation and pastor Samuel, who knew
everyone in our neighborhood by name. He'd hand us warm food,
sometimes even rally the church members to help with the
little things like medicine or clothing, even helping my mother
deliver my youngest siblings, the twins, when she couldn't afford
hospital care. Pastor Samuel he'd seen something in me. He
(03:38):
noticed my curiosity, my fascination with the books he kept
tucked away on the dusty shelf in his study. First
he handed me the Bible. I read it cover to cover.
Then Achebee's Things Fall Apart, then Servantes, Melville, Homer, and Twain.
Those books opened my mind, showed me possibilities I'd never
(03:59):
dreamed of. When I'd finished secondary school. It was he
who handed me an application and encouraged me to apply.
Said I had a future waiting far from here. And when,
against all odds I won the lottery, I promised myself
I'd make it count. I arrived in Washington, d C.
With nothing but the clothes on my back. Driven by
(04:22):
the resilience my mother instilled in me and Pastor Samuel's
faith in my potential, I worked and sent money back
home whilst studying tirelessly through college. Eventually I earned an
acceptance at Georgetown Law, then graduated to join one of
the world's most prestigious law firms. Every success I achieved
was rooted in those early lessons of survival and determination.
(04:44):
Surely life could not be this cruel, to come this far,
just for it all to end like this. Mister fawn bully,
mister fawn bully. Her voice sounded distant, like an echo
in a tunnel. But then something sharper snapped me back.
Her pen. The scratches of it, each rough stroke against
the notebook paper cut into my thoughts like sandpaper on stone.
(05:08):
I felt my fingers clenched tighter, my knuckles pressing harder
against the table. She had said my name at least
three times, but I kept my focus locked on the
sound of her pen, dragging with pointless purpose. It was
all I could do not to lunge across the table
and yank it from her hand. Then came another sound,
one I hadn't registered until now, the fluorescent lights overhead,
(05:30):
their electric buzz grinding in my ears, pulsing with a
steady hum that matched the beating of my temples. Each
crackle felt like a hot needle behind my eyes. Her
breathing joined in next rough and labored she'd taken along
in hal Then a quick sniff, swallowing the mucus lodged
somewhere in her throat. Every breath grated against my nerves,
(05:52):
and every time she pulled in that air, that mucus.
It took every ounce of self control I had not
to slam my fists on the table and tell her
to blow her damn nose. And as if that wasn't enough,
she started tapping her foot a sharp, mindless rhythm. Each
tap of her heel on the linoleum floor felt like
a hammer pounding in my head. I took a deep breath,
(06:15):
willing myself to stay calm. Lashing out at this woman
wouldn't help my case. No, it'd do the exact opposite.
Being pinned for the murder of an elderly woman only
to then explode in front of a forensic psychologist would
be the last nail in the coffin. And besides destiny,
(06:35):
She'd be certain for sure, and so would her father,
my once biggest supporter. You were right, baby girl, I
could almost hear her father say, his voice laden with disappointment.
If he's crazy enough to kill an old woman, I
can't imagine what he put you through. I exhaled, slowly,
unclenching my fists, lifting my hands up to lie flat
(06:55):
on the table. I could keep it together, calm. This
was my life's blood. After all, I was a lawyer,
a damn good corporate one on his way to becoming
partner before this mess. I would answer every one of
her questions with unwavering control. I would deny every charge,
and I would direct her to the real culprit or culprits.
(07:17):
I knew who was to blame, but since arriving here,
it seemed no one could listen long enough to hear
the truth. My nerves were frayed. I must admit this room,
this woman, with her incessant scrawling and sniffing, it was
all chipping away at me bit by bit, And somehow
that seemed to sum up everything about this state. Noistar
(07:39):
dot asterisk, nothing but noise, not just any ordinary damn noise.
Though like the usual city sounds I'd grown accustomed to
over the years, this one was much worse. A noise,
so chaotic and at the same time a grinding wheel,
wearing you down to your most vulnerable, invasive. More than ever,
it spread into every corner of your mind until you
(08:01):
were hollowed out. I exhaled hard, squeezing my eyes tight
shut to keep it all in check, but the memories
came flooding back unbidden. The first day Destiny and I
crossed into this state border teeming with excitement, fresh as newlyweds.
We'd met at Georgetown, fallen hard for each other, and
walked across the commencement stage as husband and wife. What
(08:25):
could I say? When you know? You know? And I'd
known from the moment I first saw her. Drawn to
those warm brown eyes and that bright, beautiful smile, Destiny
was empathetic to her core. That's what I loved most
about her. She just got me, or at least she
used to. Now I couldn't understand why she'd suddenly turned
(08:47):
against me. She wasn't just my wife. She'd been my
best friend by the time we were married. She'd learned
enough of my mother tongue to chat with her and
my siblings each month when I called home. It was
endearing hearing the two of them chatter and laugh on
the phone for hours, as if they'd known each other
all their lives. Sometimes I'd step in to translate a
(09:09):
mist word or two, but mostly they'd talk like giddy
teenage girls. My mother adored her, and at the end
of every call. She reminded me she was waiting on babies.
I'd laugh, telling her to be patient. America was expensive
and starting a family was something Destiny and I wanted
to plan carefully. Destiny and I had a plan one
(09:31):
we were both committed to. We were young, just beginning
our careers as a corporate lawyer and a family lawyer,
and had mapped out our goals carefully a couple of years,
working hard, saving up, then buying a modest house in
cash before we even thought about kids. We'd both fallen
under the spell of Dave Ramsay back in law school,
(09:52):
and in our spare moments, we'd binge watch his YouTube videos,
fueling our belief that we could make that dream a reality.
Like squirrel stashing acorns, we'd agreed to save every dollar
we earned along the way. That's why we chose this
state over New York City, despite both our jobs being
in Manhattan. This state was cheaper, better for saving, and
(10:13):
we'd found a second floor apartment. The apartment in an
old building was far from perfect, but it felt like
a beginning. The rent was relatively cheap, and we were
within walking distance of the train station with a direct
line into the city. We were full of hope, full
of plans. Back then, it felt like everything was right
(10:34):
there waiting for us to reach out and grab it.
Moving day was exhausting, but there was a thrill to
it too, the kind that comes from finally starting something
new with the love of your life. Destiny and I
lugged box after box up the narrow stairwell, brushing past
old banisters and worn carpet as we made our way
to our new place on the second floor. Just as
(10:56):
I set a box down to unlock our door, I
caught sight of an elderly couple standing next to the
door beside ours, watching us with interest. Hey, there, called
the woman, waving us over with a broad smile. She
was short, with silver curls and a light complexion that
matched her husband's. I'm Patty and this is my husband, James.
(11:17):
We're your neighbors. Destiny and I exchanged a look, then
walked over to introduce ourselves. James, a tall, wiry man
with a grizzled beard, gave me a nod. He was
shorter than me by at least a couple of inches.
If I had to guess, I stood a solid six
feet four inches without shoes, regardless, He stayed quiet as
(11:40):
Patty launched right into conversation. Oh we're just so blessed
to have you all moving in, Patty said, clasping her hands.
I can tell you too are not trouble. Oh no,
Destiny said, chuckling. My husband and I are far from Tierro.
What is it you too do for a living, Patty,
he asked eagerly. Leaning in, Destiny looked at me before answering,
(12:05):
we're both attorneys. Well, thank the Lord, Patty said, practically
beaming as she nudged James in the ribs. I told
you they weren't trouble. A power couple like Michelle and
Baraque just what this building needs. Far from the Obamas,
I said, laughing lightly. But Patty was already off on
(12:25):
her next thought. It's been terrible with these students, she continued,
shaking her head. Drunk parties every weekend, music so loud
the walls shake, and that terrible skunklike smell filling the halls.
I nodded, recalling the nearby university we'd passed on our
drive in. Yeah, I see why it attracts a lot
(12:46):
of students. James gave a weary sigh. We've dealt with
it all. Fistfights, shouting matches, you name it, absolute heathens,
Patty exclaimed, Then, leaning in closer, she low her voice
to a conspiratorial whisper. But you know, none of that
was as strange as the last tenant in your place.
(13:07):
Destiny raised an eyebrow. Strange how Patty's expression turned serious,
her smile vanishing. She wasn't like the other students. This
girl she was different, quiet, gloomy. She'd never say a
word to anyone, never smiled, wouldn't even look at you
if you said hello, Just a dark soul. I glanced
(13:30):
at Destiny, who had gone still watching Patty intently. Did
something happen? I asked? Patty nodded, her eyes narrowing. At night,
we'd hear chanting from her apartment, some strange language I'd
never heard, and she'd play this eerie music. I told
James more than once that girl's a witch. I'm sure
(13:53):
of it. She crossed herself quickly, a flicker of fear
in her eyes. Destiny, a little unsettled but more curious, asked, really,
oh yeah, really? One night there was a loud racket
coming from her place that we thought had to be
something serious. The next thing we know, the police show up.
(14:14):
They broke down her door, restrained her, and took her away.
I think her parents staged an intervention and had her committed,
because we never saw her again. And she jacked that
place up too, James said, glancing at Patty before continuing on.
Workers were in there for weeks after. I think they
had to get half of Patty's face brightened with sudden energy.
(14:38):
Oh yes, they had a whole separate dumpster just to
get rid of her stuff. I overheard some workers saying
they'd never seen anyone wreck a place like that. I
mean it was like I shifted uncomfortably, only half listening
as Patty continued talking. I kept a polite smile on
my face, though I found myself watching her mouth move rapidly,
(15:01):
words pouring out like a bad case of diarrhea. At
her first pause, Destiny and I took the chance to
jump in, thanking them both for the welcome, before making
a quick escape back to our door. Once we were inside,
Destiny shook her head, stifling a laugh. That woman is
wearing that poor man down, she said. Let's hope I
(15:22):
don't turn out like that one day only if I
turned superstitious too, I said, making a cross over my chest.
Destiny laughed softly. She reminded me of my grandma, your grandma.
I thought I was looking right at my mom. Did
I tell you she wanted me to pray over this
apartment before we signed the lease, as if we had
(15:43):
time to wait and pray in this market. My mother
still did not know about my change and faith since
moving to the States. She didn't even know that Destiny
was an atheist. On our calls. We never brought it up,
not me and certainly not Destiny when I passed the
phone over. My mother's hymns and praises to the Lord
were always met with a simple amen from me, a
(16:05):
familiar ritual I knew she took comfort in. As the
sun set through our living room's bare window, I wrapped
my arms around Destiny's waist, taking in our new place.
Patty hadn't been wrong about the renovations. The fresh paint,
polished cabinets, and brand new appliances were clear evidence of
a recent overhaul. If the last tenant's chaos had led
(16:27):
to this, we had lucked out with a newly renovated
apartment at a bargain price. Over the next few days,
we unpacked, had new furniture delivered, and transformed the apartment
into a cozy sanctuary of our own. Within two weeks,
we'd settled into a routine, commuting together to and from
the city, arriving home in time for dinner, and unwinding
(16:49):
at night. Ideally that was our rhythm, though both of
our jobs demanded long hours, but Destiny and I did
our best to make it work. We were home buties anyway,
happy to spend week ends in cooking together, playing board games,
and dancing around the kitchen. But as they say, good
things rarely last. Our time in this state had barely
(17:12):
begun when the first rude intrusion of noise shattered our peace,
to be continued. Slash a West African extremely Resilient, adaptable
to any environment by West African writer Josephine Dean Slash
The End
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