Let's laugh small
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Growing up, I heard stories about haunted houses, the living-dead, spirits and tales of people who embraced the welcoming arms of death screaming, yelling or fighting for an extension of their earthly timeline. As a Christian I grew up learning and believing in what the bible teaches about death, resurrection, purgatory and so on.

As an inquisitive teen and young lady, I read books and stories on time travel, souls departing the physical realm and saw movies like The Omen, I know what you did last summer, hammer house of horror, Back from hell (never had the guts to finish that one), our own Willy Willy and Nneka the pretty serpent which by the way always got me screaming my lungs out and yeah, there was Mel Gibson's passion of Christ which was a detailed (in my opinion ) portrayal of the agonizing death of Christ. That movie had me crying for days.

Between the movies and the books, I would say the movies were more impactful because they vividly portrayed in pictures and videos these horrific scenes in a way that always left you feeling that you were one of the victims or part of the whole story. Back then, the problem wasn't seeing those movies or hearing mind-blowing tales of the dead or spirits living amongst humans from friends. Noooo! My wahala usually started when the gist was over or the movie showed "the end". My eidetic memory would tenaciously grasp onto the most horrific and gory scenes and start replaying them once the lights were out. Usually, I would end up being afraid of my own shadow for months. It was so bad that even going up to my room alone would become a battle. Let's not even talk about being left alone at home. Horrible I must say, although some people find scary movies fulfilling.

Anyway, one day, I finally realized that it wasn't my thing and boldly accepted my preferences and limitations. I decided to choose my battles wisely and firmly sealed my decision to stay away from any thing called a horror or scary movie. But that was years ago and I thought I had outgrown all those childish fears. Who was I fooling?

So, last winter I took a trip with my friends. We checked into this comfy airbnb surrounded by trees and nature somewhere in a quiet town far away from the city bustles. Our lodge sat next to a cute brightly lit remodelled wooden house we were told belonged to a wealthy old man. Though our lodge and most of the houses we passed on the way were not modern wooden houses, you could see they were solid and properly maintained. Since our tour of the city ended late and driving into the woods took longer because our navi was obviously designed by a drunk (rolling my eyes), the moment we got our keys, I hastily rushed to my room, took a quick shower and buried myself under the soft sheets. I must confess, that bed and the whole environment was therapeutic and sooting.

In the middle of the night I woke up extremely thirsty