Stella, The Haunted Lady

By Dare Lasisi. A yellow butterfly momentarily landed on my right hand while enjoying my dinner at the popular East End restaurant. It was ...

By Dare Lasisi.

A yellow butterfly momentarily landed on my right hand while enjoying my dinner at the popular East End restaurant. It was a sign of a strange visitor in my vicinity. I looked around and saw one tall dark-skinned man with an 'extra-large' head. He maliciously gazed at me with contempt. I pretended as if I did not see him. I noticed he was a one-eyed man when he removed his steel-rimmed sunglasses.
It appeared I was in the state of critical hypnotism, I could imagine spirits escaping from his rotund forehead, radiating the aura of discomfort. A cold shiver suddenly travelled down my spine. As if in a trance, the man removed an iPod gadget from his back pocket to listen to his favourite songs.

He smartly moved to dance away from my side. I instantly heaved a sigh of relief as if out of bondage. I rushed my food and traced him to a nearby supermarket. I saw him at the milk section but I was so afraid to approach him and he miraculously vanished into thin air. I came out of the shop with a sense of defeat to meet another mixed race young lady. She smiled at me as if we were childhood friends. As she opened her set of sparkling white teeth, I noticed a tiny pin at the centre of her tongue. She also tattooed a scorpion on her left breast. My instinct told me she was probably the female version of the other man. I could not muster the courage to ask her probing questions. She noticed I was really interested in making her my new friend.

This lady quickly dropped a piece of paper on the floor as she was running to catch the train. I picked the paper with excitement strolling down my heart. I read her barely legible handwriting of her contact address. It was a place in Edmonton Green, near the popular north London cemetery. I thought of tracing her the next day without thinking of the consequence.

As I walked down my deserted street, two brownish foxes crossed my narrow path. I tried to scare them away with a big stone. Those hungry beasts ran away and later reappeared as I inserted the key into my front door. I promptly moved back to avoid any attack and suddenly, they escaped from my sight. The foxes actually came for the garbage bins.

When I finally entered my bedroom, I was in total state of confusion, unable to explain the scene to anybody. I was agonising in silence. I kept a sealed lip throughout the night. I could not sleep. I watched my newly-bought plasma television until 2.30am to avoid being ferried away into the dreamland. My mind advised me to trace her given address in north London. But another mind cautioned me to let the sleeping dog lie. To sleep or to remain awake throughout the night? I was in a dilemma.

A few days after my encounter with this mysterious beautiful lady. I picked up my phone to call her number. She was so delighted to hear from me once again. We discussed briefly on phone and later decided to meet again in north London. I was very anxious to meet her again.

On one fateful Wednesday, we met in front of the post office. She hugged me so tightly as if to crush my bones. She then held my right hand and took me to her apartment as we walked through a footpath littered with dog poos, broken bottles, and beer cans. I endured the stench emanating from the forest which was enough to suffocate me.

She was staying alone in a one-bedroom flat. From her breast pocket, she extracted a bunch of keys to open the front wooden door. I noticed a white cat in her living room. I was so fascinated with the unique designs of decorations hanging on her wall. She must have spent a fortune to acquire such exotic decorations. She asked for my choice of food and I politely requested for tea only. The lady insisted that I must eat a solid meal. Then I agreed with her.

From my observation, she was a good cook in the same class with my late sweet mother. She set the table and we started to eat semolina plus fresh fish stew but I suddenly noticed one imaginary hand eating with us. I could not ask her until this strange hand stole the fish head portion assigned for me to eat. It was like a scene from the horror movie.

A few minutes later, I saw the vanished fish head in her mouth. She was chewing it with all the teeth in her mouth. With a sense of humour, I told her of my addiction to the fish head right from my primary school days. I was so petrified to tell her my true state of mind.

She told me how she grew up in south-eastern Nigeria with her Nigerian mother while her English father from Kent divorced her mother when she was just a toddler. She later returned to England at the age of 17.She could speak some words in Igbo language but very fluent in broken English.

I was gobsmacked and could not continue my eating because of the mysterious hand which snatched my cherished fish head. I asked for the toilet and she directed me. When I finally got inside the toilet near the front door. I vomited all the food as if there was a corrosion in my stomach lining and flushed it. I saw a green bowl with some of her soaked dirty dresses behind the toilet door. She heard the sound of the water.

This lady quickly knocked on the toilet door to ask about my welfare.

"Are you alright at all? Any problem with you? Can I call the ambulance for you?" She said.

I gasped for breath as I struggled to respond to her words with all my energy. I knew I was in a deep mess for visiting this mysterious lady.

"I am okay but my stomach just reacted to the semolina. No problem my dear sister." I feigned my calmness.

When I returned to the living room. She offered me a glass of wine which I declined. I told her to get me orange juice or just a glass of clean water. She carried out my requests.

She tried to make an eye contact with me as she started to ask me several questions as if I was attending a job interview.

"What really happened to you in the toilet? I knew you wasted and threw up all my food. Maybe my food was not delicious enough for you?"

I mustered the courage to speak out my mind as I was secretly planning how to escape from her temporary bondage in north London.

"I cannot say your food was tasteless. I just don't like eating outside my house. I am okay now. Let us change the topic please."

"Tell me the truth. Don’t be afraid to speak out your mind." She pestered me further to say something.

To hide my true feelings about the vanished fish head. I tried to crack some jokes with her.

"I really enjoyed the fish head but you also ate part of it without my consent. Even your whole body and spirit enjoyed the fish."

"How do you mean? My spirit or what?" She asked me as if to slap me in the face.

As I was discussing with her. I heard strange voices from her bedroom. As if some people were speaking gibberish words. It sounded as if they were knocking their heads on the wooden walls. When I asked her. She lied to me that she was only playing jazz music in her bedroom and she cannot take me into her bedroom until she could trust me as a loyal friend.

When the noise continued, I asked again and she blamed her Indian neighbour's children. After all, these sensitive questions and she could not give me reasonable answers. I maintained a sealed lip.

"Oh, lest I forget. I don't even know your name. I told you my name as Ade when we first met in east London last time."

"Okay, call me Stella or just Estee as my friends often call me. Don't bother with my last name. I would tell you later."

She gazed at me with seductive eyes and it appeared an electric shock forcefully travelled through my veins. I tried my best to resist the temptation. My eyes started seeing her double images in different beautiful forms. No exact word to describe these illusions.

She first appeared inside her kitchen and moment later, sitting next to me and started playing with my phone. I could not say anything. I was just looking like a day old baby. I called out her name as if in danger to come and rescue me.

"Estee! Where are you? I need to go back to my east London house."

"I am here with you. Please open your third eye properly, Ade. You’ll see me clearly."

I could no longer endure Stella's torment. Time to escape.

Stella noticed my terrified body language but we both pretended as if nothing happened. My phone rang and as I picked the call, her own phone also buzzed and she quickly disappeared into her bedroom to answer the call.

It was my flatmate who called to ask about my location. I told him I was with a new girlfriend in north London and I would tell him details at home.

I tiptoed next to the bedroom door to listen to the telephone conversation with her caller. Stella spoke some coded words which aroused my curiosity. She then continued in clear words.

“You know in my first world. I was admonished by the gods not to marry any tall man from my mother’s country of origin. I have one Nigerian man in my living room right now. It appears I am deeply in love with him. Should I reveal my true identity to him? Tell me the next steps now.”

The unknown caller responded to her: “Wait for the next three days and I would tell you what to do.”

As I listened to those chilling words. I retraced my steps back to the living room in readiness to escape from Stella’s flat. I did not know the true identity of her caller but I guessed it was somebody well known to her.

Stella came out of her bedroom to apologise for keeping me waiting in the living room for over an hour. I checked my wrist-watch and it was exactly 11.25 pm. I had just less than twenty minutes to catch the last train to east London.

“I am really sorry. It was an urgent call from my cousin currently living in Scotland.”

“I need to go now. So glad to visit you today.” I declared.

“Going to where?” Why not sleep over and go tomorrow morning?”

“Maybe next time. I must be at work latest by 7.30 am tomorrow.”

I knew Stella wanted me to sleep with her in the bedroom but one imaginary voice suddenly whispered in my right ear to resist any temptation to sleep till the next day. My stressed body was ready to sleep but my heart instantly knocked out the plan without any reservation.

She decided to let me go and as I was about to exit his flat. I requested for a can of Coca-Cola drink.

“Can I have a chilled can of Coke from your fridge? I would like to drink it while inside the train.”

She handed two cold cans to me. I smartly kept them in the pocket of my winter jacket.

Stella gradually moved closer to grab me to her chest and passionately kissed me.

I could not resist the urge to kiss her with all my mouth. The kiss lasted for few minutes.

“See you next week, Stella. Thanks for everything.” I waved my final goodbye to her.

I could read the disappointment on her face as I departed from the flat.

I ran to the nearest train station in order not to miss the last train to east London. I suddenly hit my left foot on a stone but the impact was not too painful for me. I continued my journey to the station.

I was extremely lucky to reach the platform when the last train was about to move. I quickly jumped on the train. I drank one can of coke inside the train because I was so thirsty. It was so refreshing for my throat.

I returned to my flat at exactly 12.24 am. I looked around for marauding foxes before opening my front door. I gently opened my fridge to warm my leftover jollof rice in the microwave oven. I ate my dinner and quickly jumped to bed to sleep. I was just too tired to take my regular night bath.

Stella appeared in my dream. I found myself holding hands with her in an open green field on one sunny afternoon. We both strolled down to the edge of the field to discover a river. We saw some fishermen on canoes while some teenagers were also swimming at the other side of the river.

“Can you swim?” She asked me.

“I cannot swim. I wish to learn how to swim like a fish one day?” I responded.

“I cannot teach you today but I love to swim right now.”

“You must be joking! We are not here to swim! We are for heart-to-heart discussion as young lovers.”

“Please, let me just feel the water for few minutes. Let me swim! Water is a therapy for my body.”

“If that’s your choice, then go ahead. I wish you best of luck inside the river.”

“Excuse me! Let me go to that corner to quickly change to my swimming suits.”

She emerged few minutes later, fully dressed in bikinis, to hand over her clothes to me.

As if remotely controlled and haunted by unseen spirits, Stella dived into the river before my very eyes and moment later, I saw her struggling to float. That was my first time of seeing her swimming. It was like a suicide mission.

I was tempted to rescue her as a non-swimmer but I promptly restricted myself. I alerted the fishermen and regular swimmers in the area to save her from drowning.
It was rather too late. Stella had sunk deeper into the belly of the river. I started to wail like a baby. I screamed her name many times as if to call her back to life.

My alarm rang to interrupt the nightmare. It was a big relief when I woke up. I checked my wall clock, it was exactly 6.10 a.m. I felt so bad. I could not understand the dream of seeing Stella drowning in the river while all efforts to save her proved abortive. I went to the bathroom for my shower to prepare for work. I put on my brown suit for work. I ate my favourite breakfast cereals.

I decided I would call Stella from work in central London to tell her about this riverside nightmare.

During my lunch hour, I called her mobile phone many times. No response! I sent text messages. No response. I knew something was definitely wrong somewhere. That was quite unusual for Stella to ignore all my calls and text messages.

When I finished work around 5.30 pm, I decided to check Stella at home since she was not responding to all my phone calls and text messages. I got to her doorstep in north London at about 6.54 pm. I knocked at her front door many times. No response. I called her phone once again, my call instantly went to a voicemail because her phone was switched off.

I stood in front of her flat as if stranded for more than one hour and one old white lady whom I suspected to be her neighbour came down to break the sad news to me.

“I am sure you’re looking for Stella?”

“Yes! I called her mobile phone many times today but no response!”

“I am sorry, I have a tragic news for you. Stella committed suicide early this morning. She left no suicide note but some anti-depressant tablets were found inside her bedroom. Police and ambulance came for her corpse today.”

Tears quickly navigated down my cheeks. I could not control myself anymore. As if the whole world had collapsed on my forehead. But why Stella? Did she die of an overdose of anti-depressant drugs? Who was with her during her last moment? Who discovered her lifeless body? Who informed the British police? Stella would have died in my presence if I did not leave her flat on that fateful night? Many questions begging for urgent answers.

“Suicide or what? This is just a bad dream! Please, wake me up! Why must you die now, Stella?” I screamed.

This neighbour left me alone to mourn Stella. I did not meet her blood relations or close friends during my brief relationship with her. I was denied the golden opportunity of laying a wreath on her tombstone, to pay my last respect. I later gathered that her body was cremated and ashes were scattered by helicopter all over River Thames.

I returned to my flat with a broken heart to weep all night for the tragic transition of my dear friend who died as a 24-year-old beautiful lady.I remembered my last night dream when Stella was drowning in the river as fishermen struggled to save her. Was she saying her final goodbye to me in that dream? I was unable to crack those nightmare codes.

Stella’s death remains a mystery till today. As if haunted by unseen spirits. No funeral service. She passed away before her historical 25th birthday.

***I hope to sign a publishing contract with this story any time from now. I need to transform it into a novel according to 2 UK-based publishers. I must create more scenes and characters. Nothing is impossible.
I welcome objective criticism and positive suggestions of my creative writing from my Facebook friends and blog readers but always remember Prof Chinua Achebe's words :"If you don't like my story, write your own version."




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Ajisafe,1,PastorRabalago,1,PaternityCrisis,1,Paul Moore,1,PayingEvilWithKindness,1,PAYLATER APP.,1,PAYPAL DONATIONS.,1,PDP,4,PDP.,1,PDP.APC.,2,Pepper-soup joint Glasgow.,2,PERMISSION TO FORGE AHEAD.,1,phone hackers,1,Pius Adebola Adesanmi,1,Plagiarism,2,PLAGIARISTS ARE SHAMELESS THIEVES!,1,PLEURAL EFFUSION,1,Police,1,Politics,1,Postage stamps in Nigeria.,1,PowerOfBook,1,Prayer City.,1,PressFreedom,1,Primary school early start,1,Prince Adelaja Adeoye,1,Prince Harry,1,PrinceAdemola Adeniji-Adele,1,PrinceOfHope,1,Prof Adebayo Adedeji,1,Prof Richard Akindele,1,Professor ADAM.,1,Professor Adebayo Adedeji,1,Professor Kingsley Chiedu Moghalu,1,PROFESSOR ORIOLA,1,Professor Sulyman Agenyo AbdulKareem,1,ProfPaden,1,PSN,1,PTDF,1,Qatar,1,Queen's University Belfast,1,RAAAF,1,Racism in Glasgow,1,Ramadan,2,Rape,2,Rasheed Gbadamosi,1,REBRANDING MY BLOGGING,1,Recession,1,Redeemer's University,1,religions in Nigeria.,1,Reno Omokri,1,ReubenAbati,2,Revd.Mother Esther Abimbola Ajayi.,1,Rhoyale Priesthood Food & Groceries UK LTD.,1,Richard Akindele,2,Rilwan Adesoji,1,Rio Ferdinand,1,RiversOfBlood,1,Robert Mugabe,1,Roger Moore,1,Room56.,1,Rotimi Akeredolu,1,Rotimi Makinde,1,RotimiAmaechi,1,Royston Glasgow.,1,Rwanda,1,Sahara Reporters,1,Sajod Javid,1,Sallah,2,SallyMbanefo,2,Salute to the Garium Sulphate!,1,Sani Abacha,2,Saudi Arabia,1,Scholarships for African students.,2,Scholarships in SCOTLAND,1,Scholarships.,1,SCOTLAND,8,SCOTLAND LAFESTA,1,SCOTLAND.,1,Scotland. OpenDay 2017,1,Scotland's indyref2,1,Scottish inventors,1,Segun Adelugba,1,Segun Onibiyo,1,Senator Ademola Adeleke,1,Senator KAKA,1,Seun Kuti,1,SeunEgbegbe,2,SEX SCANDAL,1,ShamelessNaijaWomen,1,Sheikh Abdullah Adam El-Ilory,1,Sheikh Adam Abdulahi Al-Ilory,1,Sheikh Garuba Akinola Ibrahim,1,Sheikh Muhydeen Ajani Bello,1,Shreyas Royal,1,Sickle cell,1,Sierra Leone tragedy,1,Sikiru Ayinde Barrister,1,Silhouette of Conscience,1,SonnyOkosun.,1,South Africa,1,Southern Kaduna,2,Soyinka.Amaechi,1,Stamford Bridge.,1,Starvation.,1,Stay Healthy,1,Stella,4,Stephen Hawking,1,Stockfish,1,StrangeFacts,1,Suicide.,1,Sule Lamido,1,Sultan of African Satire,1,Super Falcons,1,SwedishAcademy,1,Syrian crisis,1,Tai Solarin,1,TaiSolarin,1,Talking Dolls,1,Terrorism,1,TERRORISM.,1,The difference between a resume and a CV?,1,THE FALL OF A KING,1,The Flying King,1,THE GHOST MARKET WOMAN,1,the haunted lady,2,The Haunted Lady.,2,The Monitor.,1,The Narrow Escape,1,THE POWER OF A CURSE,1,The Trial of Brother Jagunmolu,1,The Trial of Brother Jagunmolu.,1,The Unknown Thief,1,The Yale Young African Scholars Program 2019,1,TheRangerApp,2,Theresa May,1,TheresaMay.,6,This is Nigeria.,1,Tinubu,1,Titanic Museum Belfast,1,Tony Elumelu,1,Tony Ezimakor,1,TSTV,1,TuFace Idibia,1,Tunde Bakare,2,Turkey,1,TY Danjuma Foundation,1,Tyler Dooley.,1,UCH,1,UCL,1,UK GENERAL ELECTION,1,UK libraries,1,UK Politics,2,UK.,1,UKdeportation,1,UKPolitics,1,Ulster Museum.,1,Umaru YarAdua,1,UNILAG,2,UNILORIN,5,UniMaid,1,UniSambisa,1,University of Dundee,2,University of Glasgow.,1,University of Ilorin,2,University of Ilorin.Centre for Peace and Strategic Studies,1,University of Sambisa,1,University Of Stirling,2,University of Strathclyde,1,University of Tartu,1,UNKNOWN GUNMEN,1,UoS.,1,US Elections,1,US Lotto Jackpot,1,USA,1,UtakoMarketAbuja.,1,Victor Olabisi Onabanjo,1,Video Contest Scholarship,1,VP Yemi Osinbajo.,1,Wailing for the future,2,WailingWailers,2,Wande George,1,Wike.,1,Windrush scandal,1,Winnie Mandela,1,Wole Soyinka,8,Women Arise,1,World cup 2018 in Russia.,1,WTM,1,Xodus,1,Yahya Jammeh,1,Yemi OSINBAJO,2,Yinka Ayefele,1,Yinka Odumakin,1,Yinusa Owolabi Ramon,1,YPP.,1,Yusuf Buhari,2,Zahra Buhari.,1,Zambian cement,1,Zimbabwe,1,Zukabaga,1,Zulu Sofola.,1,
Welcome to Dare Lasisi's blog!: Stella, The Haunted Lady
Stella, The Haunted Lady
Welcome to Dare Lasisi's blog!
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