"My mum is a witch!" I heard Jamal, my friend next door screamed. It was half past 12 midnight, as usual in winter; the night was cold. I crept towards the blinds, opened it, tried to get a clearer view of the happenings in his building, unfortunately; all writings now appeared red, red as in blood.
The full moon shown bright like a diamond, everywhere was dead silent, somehow, I felt twilight was upon us. In the South Law, appeared a stranged figure, fully adorned in all white clothing. It was just there, adjacent the oak tree, but I wanted to see it all for myself, so I moved closer. The ghost-like being turned in my direction, with an intent stare.
"Damn it, it was Mrs Zaphirrah! with sobbing Jamal beneath the oak tree." I was surprised, scared and terrified at the same time. Wanted to run away, but my knees felt so weak, and my legs couldn't carry my weight for my would have been rescue mission. But to my amazement, she too was in tears, I moved closer to sympathize with them.
Jamal's mum was suffering from depression. It all started years ago, before their relocation to Europe, her husband; Dr Khalifa ibn Saddam was the President for United States of Africa. Subsequent years into his first term in the "Peoples Palace" his mum had lost all three kids to mysterious illnesses excluding him, which earned him the nick " the miraculous child."
Notwithstanding, several Sheikhs labelled her a "Witch," and in totality as Jamal grew up, he was made to believe she was a "Witch." Afterwards, together, we moved into their house, and survived the night. But the following week, the inevitable happened...
She was found hanging lifeless, on that same oak tree. "Life had played it's last card on her"
And till date, I see her in my dreams, thus she remains my DISTURBIA.
