"Watch out, man! What's wrong with you?" a furious voice bellowed from a window as Jolof's car cut through traffic.
But Jolof didn't spare the driver a glance. His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, and his sharp eyes flicked between the road ahead and the rearview mirror. His breaths were short, but his face remained tense and focused, like someone who had survived war and was now navigating landmines in peacetime.
Beside him, Lufe sat hunched in his seat, his chest heaving with every breath. Sweat dotted his forehead and soaked the collar of his hoodie. His fingers dug into the edge of the seat as he stared out the window, but his mind wasn't taking in the scenery. He wasn't even seeing it. All he could think about was the thing that had nearly touched him.
The figure.
And then, in the rearview mirror, he caught a glimpse of it again. Standing in the middle of the road, unmoving, as if the wind itself had conjured it. A smoky silhouette, eerily human in shape, its edges blurred and shifting like steam rising from boiling water. Cars drove straight through it, unaffected as if it wasn't there.
Lufe didn't speak. Neither did Jolof.
Only after several more minutes of silence did Jolof mutter, his voice hoarse, "I'm taking you to your mother."
Lufe only nodded, his voice still buried beneath the weight of the experience. He was too afraid to speak.
During the drive, Jolof texted Selena in hurried taps:
Jolof: Coming with Lufe, he's been acting weird.
Selena: What's wrong?
Jolof: He's saying a ghost is after him.
Selena: Hallucinations?
Jolof: Seems worse.
Selena: Jolof, you believe in ghosty-crap now?
Jolof didn't respond. The truth was, he wasn't sure what he believed anymore.
Selena's house came into view. Before the car fully stopped, Selena burst out the front door. She wore her worry plainly—creased brows, slightly trembling hands, and eyes that scanned her son's face with desperate intensity.
"Lu, what's going on?" she asked, wrapping her arms around him. Her warmth was immediate, anchoring.
Lufe trembled in her grasp. "Mom…" he mumbled, barely audible, "a ghost is chasing me."
She pulled away slightly, holding his face in her hands. She studied his expression. There was no mischief there, no drama. Only cold, pale fear. She didn't believe in ghosts, not really, but she believed in this. In the fear on her son's face.
"Let's get inside," she said softly.
They entered the house. Its coziness was a sharp contrast to the gloom of the Hoss House. The air smelled of chamomile and cinnamon. Warm. Safe. For now.
Jess came bounding down the stairs with her usual clumsy energy, a large pink book clutched to her chest.
"Bro, are you alright?" she asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.
Behind her, Merry descended slowly, her movements graceful, her tone calm.
"Big bro is not fine. Can't you see?" she said, her soft voice like a feather on skin.
She was always quiet and spoke softly, her words more like gentle suggestions than commands. Wasn't that too good for a seventeen year old?
"Jolof," Selena snapped suddenly, turning to him like a gust of wind ready to knock over a houseplant. "Why did you insist on moving into that hell? You want my son dead, right?"
Jolof's jaw clenched. "Selena, don't start—"
"No, you don't start! You always wanted your own way, Jolof. Always."
"Why don't we put our grudges aside and focus on helping him" he suggested.
"Helping him?" she smirked. "helping him is dealing the cause of all this and that is you—you took him into that house, causing what... whatsoever messed up with his mind."
Jolof sighed and said "Why should I always be the one to blame?"
"Because you're always at fault." she continued. "Instead of throwing a pity party try to listen and change your ways."
Jolof was rendered speechless. He could only listen now.
Suddenly his phone rang—a rescue. He walked outside, pressing his phone to his ear.
Selena turned back to Lufe and softened instantly. She crouched next to him. "It's going to be fine, my little one," she whispered, brushing his hair gently from his forehead. "I'll get you a drink."
Lufe slumped onto the couch, his elbow on the armrest, his head leaning against his palm. Jess sat across from him, hugging her knees. Merry leaned against the wall, watching Lufe carefully, kindly.
His breath caught in his throat.
Cold. A chill spread from the back of his neck down to his spine. His skin prickled with goosebumps.
He turned.
And it was there.
A face. Smoky. Blurred. Inches from his. Time seemed to slow as it leaned closer. Lufe's entire body froze. His limbs ignored every silent scream his brain sent to them. He couldn't move.
The voice that came was less a sound and more a vibration through his very bones.
"My daughter," it whispered. You... are... my daughter."
The voice was gentle and loving but not right. Not human. Besides, Lufe was it's daughter?
"Foca ayika ina, ao foca ayika ina." it said again. Lufe had no idea what these words meant much to his confusion.
"Lufe!"
He blinked. His mother stood on the staircase, a yoghurt drink in hand. She looked puzzled, alarmed. "Are you alright?"
The figure—which only Lufe could see and hear, vanished.
He turned to her, then looked back. Nothing.
"A… daughter?" he murmured.
The ghostly figure, once again claimed he was its daughter but he was a boy. It made no sense, he sighed.
Furthermore, although, his mom never talk enough about his biological father, he was pretty sure, his father wasn't a scary, guolish figure.
Jess's voice pierced the silence. "Mom!"
Everyone turned. She pointed at the floor, her hands trembling.
They all looked.
And time seemed to halt.
The floor was… gone.
Not broken. Not collapsed. But transformed. Where there should have been carpet and wood panels, there was now a strange terrain—whitish-brown earth, mottled with green mushroom-like plants.
The couches, the table, the rug—they all remained, perfectly placed atop the bizarre new ground. But it wasn't floor.
The air became so dense that they could feel it on their skins. Even moving a muscle became a bit heavier.
Jess backed away toward the door. "I… I'm gonna tell dad."
She opened the door.
And froze.
Her breath caught, and her body stilled.
"Jess?" Merry called.
Jess didn't move.
Selena stood quickly. "Jess? What's wrong?"
Lufe began to rise, too, just as a knock echoed from the main door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Three times.
Everyone turned.
Knock. Knock. Knock.