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[STORY] THE WITCH’S DAUGHTER (Episode 02)

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THE WITCH'S DAUGHTER story _ AllNaijaEntertainment
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Episode 02.

Two days later, after we had cleaned the house, we moved in. The first thing my father did was to bring a powerful, local man of God who prayed for the house and poured anointing oil. Feeling secured after the pastor’s prayer, we settled in to begin enjoying our new home.

It had been a week now and we hadn’t had any incident. I was already beginning to believe what my father had said about the agent’s stories. As scary as the stories sounded, I still wanted something adventurous to happen and had been disappointed that nothing had happened so far. I loved ghost stories and ghost encounters as long as they don’t kill me.

The next day, after my dad had gone to work and my mum and younger sister were having an afternoon nap, I wandered to the back of the house and noticed something I had not noticed since we got there. It was an old house surrounded by a thick bush. The house looked mysterious to me and this increased my curiosity. I wondered why someone will leave the surroundings of his house so untidy in this modern times. I decided to go check who lived in the house. When I got there, I met a beautiful little girl, just about my age.

“Hi there!” I called.

“Hey”

“How are you?” I asked.

“Good and you? Where do you come from?”

“We moved in a few weeks ago. We live in that house there.” I said, pointing to our house.

“Ok, my mum told me about it.”

“Your mum? Where is she? Who else do you live with?”

“Yeah. I live with my mum. Just the two of us.” She said.

“I want to meet her. Where is she?”

“She went into the forest since morning and hasn’t returned yet. By the way, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to meet my mum. In fact, it will be a prudent thing for you to start going.”

“Leave me alone.” I said. “What is wrong with you? Where is your father?”

She didn’t respond.

“Please, tell me why you don’t want me to meet your mum.” I urged.

“She is a witch. Yes, my mum is a witch. Please go before she comes. I don’t want something bad to happen to you, please.” She begged.

I refused to go. I told her I wasn’t going to move an inch until she told me all about her mum. She did. She said her mum had been driven from her village for practicing necromancy. A woman’s husband had died. This woman loved her husband very much and wanted to be with him again in spite of the fact that he was dead. Someone directed her to the witch who used her powers to invoke the woman’s husband. The woman’s dead husband appeared in her temple for real. Not his spirit but his flesh and blood. The widow was called at the dead of night to meet her husband. She was very happy to meet her dead husband again. However, they were warned never to make love or she will die. She didn’t heed to the witch’s warning, made love to her husband and died. Her husband disappeared and was never seen again.

The villages got angry and chased her away from the village. The villages had tolerated her enough. That was not the first time she had openly practiced wizardry in the village. There was another time the children of the village were complaining that each time their parents go to the farm, a strange little child came and played with them. He even ate their food. Their parents had many times set a trap to catch this strange little child. However, they had never succeeded.

The witch was invited and she succeeded to catch the strange little child. It was discovered that the little boy was a ghost. He left his grave everyday when he was sure that the villagers had all gone to the farm and only the children were left at home. He came and played with them and ate their food. When he was sure their parents were going to start returning from their farms, he vanished and went back to his grave. That was his normal routine until he was caught and destroyed.

My eyes almost popped out of their sockets as I listened to the stories about her mum. Any other little child my age might have been very afraid and would have left immediately. I was the opposite of every little child. I was very interested in the stories instead and wanted her to tell me more.

“Please, go now. I can hear an owl hooting and our black cat which had been absent since morning had suddenly appeared. That was an indication that my mum would be here any minute. Please, go.” She begged desperately.

“I will only go if you tell me one more scary story about your mum.” I said, excitedly.

I was playing with fire and deep down I knew it. However, I had an unholy appetite for all things supernatural.

“Okay, please, promise you will go after this, please.” She almost went down on her knees.

“Alright, I promise.” I said. I was enjoying the whole show.

She told me that the first time that her mum had come close to being exiled from the village was when a neighbour had given birth to a beautiful baby. That neighbour had quarreled with her mum only recently and had called the latter an old and ugly hag. Her mum had decided to revenge in a way and time of her chosen. When the neighbour brought her new born baby from the hospital to the house, her mother magically came at the dead of night and burst the child’s ear lobes and put earrings in them. The neighbour was outraged when shoe got up at night because of the baby’s incessant cries and realized that her earlobes had holes and there were earrings hanging from the holes.

The next day, they visited a with doctor who told them who was responsible for the act. The woman assembled the village youths who would have lynched the witch. However, she was spared when she confessed and was made to pay a huge fine.

I had heard enough for one day. I said my goodbye and quickly left to our house. The little girl felt so relieved when she saw me leaving. I went home and my mum and kid sister where still sleeping. I decided that the next day, I will go and see her again. I had a feeling she wasn’t happy. I decided I would be her friend and someday, who knows? I might her free her from her mum, the witch. A decision I will seriously come to regret in future.
To Be Continued… . . 


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