Ozala: The 8-ft Tall Spirit 2

Note: This story is rated PG13. Younger children might find the content therein a little bit too scary. Enjoy!

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    I turned on the TV and tried to watch, but I was so nervous, I felt sick to my stomach. Efeyin and I said nothing to each other. Efeyin was on the bed, trembling. Grandma had left some snacks and rice for us, but I couldn’t eat anything. I felt like I was in prison. I laid down on the bed and waited, staring at her. Before I knew it, she was asleep.

When she woke up, it was just after 1 AM. All of a sudden, we realized that something was tapping on the window.

“Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap…”

I felt the blood draining from my face and my heart skipped a beat. I desperately tried to calm myself down, telling myself it was just the wind playing tricks or maybe the branches of a tree. I turned up the volume on the TV to drown out the tapping noise while Efeyin pulled the bedsheet over her face. Eventually, it stopped altogether.

That was when we heard her Grandpa calling me.

“Are you OK in there?” he asked. “If you’re scared you don’t have to stay in there all alone. I can come in and keep you company.”

I smiled and rushed over to open the door, but then, I stopped in my tracks. I had goosebumps all over my body. It sounded like Grandpa’s voice, but somehow, it was different. I couldn’t tell what it was, but I just knew…

“What are you doing?” Grandpa asked. “You can open the door now.”

I looked at Efeyin and she was shaking her head.

“There,” she said, pointing towards my left as she climbed down from the bed.

I glanced to my left and a chill went down my spine. The salt in the bowls was slowly turning black. I backed away from the door. My whole body was trembling with fear. I fell to my knees in front of the statue – the wooden human figure Kola had placed there – and asked Efeyin to hold the piece of paper tightly in her hand.

Then, I heard the voice outside the door saying:

“Po… Po… Po… Po… Po… Po… Po…”

The tapping on the window started again. I was overcome by fear and we crouched there in front of the statue, half-crying, and half-praying for the rest of the night. I felt like it would never end, but eventually, it was morning. The salt in all four bowls was pitch black.

We checked the watch. It was 7:30 AM. Efeyin cautiously opened the door. Her Grandma and Kola were standing outside waiting for us. When she saw her face, Grandma started crying.

“I’m so glad you’re still alive,” she said.

I went downstairs and was surprised to see my father and mother sitting in the kitchen. Grandpa came in and said, “Hurry up! We’ve got to get going.”

We went to the front door and there was a large black van waiting in the driveway. Several men from the village were standing around it, pointing at her and whispering, “That’s the girl.”

The van was a 9-seater and she was put in the middle, surrounded by eight men. Kola was in the driver’s seat.

The man on her left looked down at her and said, “You’ve got yourself in quite a bit of trouble. I know you’re worried. Just keep your head down and your eyes shut. We can’t see it, but you can. Don’t open your eyes until we’ve got you safely out of here.”

Grandpa drove in front and my dad’s car was following behind. When everyone was ready, our little convoy started moving. We were going fairly slow… around 20km/h or maybe less. After a while, Kola said, “This is where it gets hard,” and started muttering a prayer under her breath.

That was when she heard the voice.

“Po… Po… Po… Po… Po… Po… Po…”

She clutched the paper that Kola had given her firmly in her hand. She said she kept her head down, but she peeked outside the window. She saw a white dress fluttering in the breeze. It was moving along with the van. It was Ozala. She was outside the window, but she was keeping pace with us.

Then, suddenly Ozala bent down and peered into the van.

“No!” Efeyin gasped.

The man beside her shouted, “CLOSE YOUR EYES!”. All this while we were behind the car but our screen started to turned blue.

Efeyin immediately shut her eyes as hard as she could and tightened her grip on the piece of paper. Then the tapping began.

Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap…

The voice became louder.

“Po… Po… Po… Po… Po… Po… Po…”

There was tapping on the windows all around us. All of the men in the van were startled and on edge, muttering nervously to themselves. They couldn’t see the spirit and they couldn’t hear her voice, but they could hear her tapping on the windows. Kola started praying louder and louder until she was almost shouting. The tension inside the van was unbearable.

After a while, the tapping stopped and the voice disappeared.

Kola looked back at us and said, “I think we’re safe now.”

All of the men around her breathed a sigh of relief. The van pulled over to the side of the road and the men got out. They transferred us into my dad’s car. My mother held me close and tears were running down her cheeks.

 

Grandpa and my father bowed to the men and they went on their way. Kola came to the window and asked her to show her the piece of paper she had given her. When she opened her hand, we saw that it had gone completely black.

“I think you will be okay now,” she said. “But just to be sure, hold onto this for a while.” She handed her a new piece of paper.

After that, we drove straight to the airport and Grandpa saw us safely onto the plane. When we took off, my parents breathed a sigh of relief. My father told me he had heard about Ozala before. Years ago, his friend had been liked by her. The boy disappeared and was never seen again.

My father said there were other people who had been liked by her and lived to tell about it. They all had to leave and settle down in foreign countries. They were never able to go back to their homeland.

She always chose children as her victims. They say it’s because children are dependent on their parents and family members. This makes them easier to deceive when she poses as their relatives.

He said the men in the van were all blood relatives of hers, and that’s why they had been sitting all around her and why my father and Grandpa had been driving in front and in the back. It was all done to try and confuse the spirit. It took a while to contact everyone and get them all together, so that was why we had to be confined in a room all night.

He told me that one of the little statues (the ones that were meant to keep her trapped) had been broken and that was how she escaped.

It gave me the chills. I was glad when we finally got back home.

All of this happened more than 10 years ago. I haven’t seen her grandparents since then. She hasn’t been able to so much as set foot in the country. I would call them every few weeks and talk with them on the phone.

Over the years, I tried to convince myself that it was just an urban legend, that everything that happened was just some elaborate prank. But sometimes, I’m not so sure.

Her grandfather died two years ago. When he was sick, he wouldn’t allow us to visit him and he left strict instructions in his will that she wasn’t to attend his funeral.

Her grandmother called a few days ago. She said that she had been diagnosed with cancer. She missed me terribly and wanted to see me one last time before she died. She called me and it went like this.

“Are you sure, Grandma?” I asked. “Is it safe?”

“It’s been 10 years,” she said. “All that happened a long time ago. It’s all forgotten. You’re all grown up now. I’m sure there won’t be a problem.”

“But… but… what about Ozala?” I said.

For a moment, there was silence on the other end of the phone. Then, I heard a deep masculine voice saying:

“Po… Po… Po… Po… Po… Po… Po…”

Henry Nzekwue

I grew up in a home that was filled with lots of fairy tales, cartoons, and many many books. I am not ashamed to be scared of spiders and I love a good bed time story.
P.S. Looking forward to being the scary awesome big brother.