When my father died, we thought the worst was over. The burial was done, people went back to their homes, and life was supposed to continue. But in our homestead, peace never returned. It was as if something or someone had refused to rest.
It started on the very evening after the burial. Just as the sun went down, a flock of black crows appeared out of nowhere and began circling around the grave. They cried and perched on nearby trees, refusing to leave. My mother watched in fear and said quietly, “That’s not normal.” We tried to brush it off, but deep inside, we all felt something wasn’t right.
Days turned into weeks, and strange things began happening. Every night, one of us would dream of our late father always the same thing him standing near the gate, looking tired and saying, “I am hungry.” My younger sister woke up screaming one night after seeing him holding an empty plate. We thought it was grief, maybe our minds refusing to let go, but the dreams kept repeating, and each time they grew more vivid.
Soon after, my elder brother, the one who had taken charge of the funeral, fell mysteriously ill. His body would heat up at night, and he complained of someone whispering his name when he was alone. He visited hospitals, but every test came out clean. The doctors couldn’t explain what was happening. He became weak, withdrawn, and pale like life itself was draining out of him. Continue Reading https://drbokko.com/?p=34165
