, , , , , ,

Done for A Prompt Each Day, a daily dose of inspiration.

We are to use Use a minimum of three words from the set of ten here in your post. You can write in any form, poetry or prose, as long or as short as you like.

My Visitor

I moved into the house on a cold rainy day. The clouds would not let up and everywhere was wet. From my bedroom window, I took in the garden behind the rumbling old house which needed pruning. The silver droplets kissing the leaves of the mahogany tree in the middle of the garden mesmerised me. But that tree would have to go. It was ancient. That night I dreamed of the mahogany tree begging me not to touch it. I woke up sweating, not understanding the dream. I wasn’t superstitious but throughout the day, a feeling of unease settled on me like an unwanted suitor.

APromptEachDay1 In the evening my new neighbour came over to introduce herself. Mary Kwame was nice enough but she talked too much. Over hot tea she filled me in on the local gossip.

“We all wondered who would move in here, you know.”

I cocked an eyebrow at this. “oh, and why was that?”

Mary swiveled her head, yes, that is what she actually did. Swiveled her head to see who was listening in even though we were alone. And then her voice dropped to a whisper. “This house is haunted you know. Someone died here. You must be brave”

An amused chuckle escaped my lips. “Mary, stories of ghosts and apparitions don’t scare me.

” “But Grace, you haven’t seen or heard anything yet.” She wailed.

The dream I had the night before popped into my mind and a shiver ripped through me, despite the hot tea.

Suddenly Mary gave a loud cackle, her eyes afire with an unholy light. “a ghost just passed through.”

I had enough. “Mary, I’ve had a busy day unpacking. I think we should call it an evening.”

Thankfully she took the hint and left shortly, apologising for overstaying her welcome. I told her not to worry, closing and locking the door firmly.

I slept soundly, perhaps too much. For I woke up to a commotion behind my house. Glancing at the bedside clock I noted the time to be 9.30. I still had a lot of unpacking to do. I tried to ignore the noise at the back of the house. The voices were many and I couldn’t make out a single word. Then I heard a loud knocking at the front door. Dashing to the bathroom attached to bedroom, I rinsed my face and mouth and hurried up to the door. Somehow I knew before unlocking the door that the news wouldn’t be good.

A handsome man stood before me. My heart did a flip. “Good morning, madam. I’m the neighbourhood watchdog committee chairman. My name is Opoku.”

“Opoku, how can I help you?” I hoped my voice sounded sexy.

“I’m sorry madam, but yesterday’s rains washed up the remains of a body buried under the mahogany tree in your yard.”


“Yes. We suspect the body must be that of Mary Kwame. She used to live near you. She’s been missing for four years now. The Police are on their way.”