When Alice's maternal grandfather died, her mother didn't want their grandmother to continue staying in the village alone, so they persuaded her to come stay with them in the city. Initially, the old woman kicked against it because she always felt the city was too crowded and loud, a very sharp contrast to the quiet and simplicity of the village. But after much dilly-dallying, her grandmother agreed to come live with them in the city, bringing a sense of warmth and familiarity to their home.
"It is not the same as the village, but it is where my children are, so it is home in its own way." Alice's grandmother said as she gurgled down a glass of cold water.
By the time Alice was fifteen, something had changed. Her grandmother who was once a very strong woman became ill, her frail body grew weaker each day, her once bright eyes dimming. It was obvious that she was living out her final days as medications seemed to have no effect on her health. There was no improvement, rather there was this eerie sense of quiet in her room.
The folktales ceased, the laughter that used to ring out from her room as she told them stories had stopped. In its place was silence, broken only by the ticking of the clock and the occasional rustling of the wind outside.
Then one night, Alice couldn’t sleep. The air was cold and thick, the wind continued to rustle all the leaves outside, making it seem as if someone was sweeping the yard in a rhythmic manner. She sat up in her bed as sleep continued to elude her in bed, listening to the howlings of the wind. And then, she heard it—some noise from the living room, she stood up, and tiptoed toward the direction of the sound.
There, in the corner by the old telephone that had sat in their living room for as long as Alice could remember, was her grandmother. She was sitting still, her eyes wide open, staring at the phone as if waiting for something. Her grandmother had always been enchanted with the telephone, she had wondered how it worked and how it was possible for people around the world to communicate through this simple "box". So most times she sits by the telephone, praising the technology behind it.
"Grandma?" Alice whispered, are you okay, what are you doing here? You should be in bed."
Her grandmother turned her head slowly towards Alice.
“The wind... it’s calling me, Alice. The wind... it's time to go,” she said, her voice barely audible.
"Go where grandma? It's not yet morning, and besides you have not been well, you won't have the strength to go out." Alice replied her. But her grandma kept on saying the same thing over and over again.
When she pointed towards the window, like someone or something was there. Alice froze with fear.
"The wind....it has come for me..... I want to go now."
She didn’t understand what her grandmother meant by “the wind” but she wasn't comfortable with her words.
It was with reluctance that she allowed Alice lead her back to her bedroom.
The remaining hours of the night were very disturbing ones for Alice as she kept pondering over her grandma's words, they were strange indeed! Even when she tried to push them away as nothing important, the wind outside was stranger, it sounded almost like whispers, voices.
The next morning, her grandmother passed away quietly in her sleep. She was buried the same day according to her last wish, the funeral was small, and Alice couldn’t help but notice how the wind seemed to follow them around as if it were a living thing, mourning alongside them.
But it was after the funeral that things began to get truly strange.
A few days after her grandma's burial, Alice was woken by a rather some noise. It was coming from the living room. She crept out of her bed to check it out. There, standing by the old telephone, was the unmistakable silhouette of her grandmother.
Her blood went cold.
“Grandma?” Her voice barely broke the silence.
The figure didn’t respond. Instead, it turned slowly to face her. Her grandmother’s face was pale, her eyes wide and unblinking, fixed on Alice as if she were waiting for something, or someone.
Suddenly, a gust of wind burst through the open window, scattering papers across the room, and the figure of her grandmother seemed to shimmer, like a reflection in water. She said nothing! She just smiled and waved at her.
Alice’s heart slammed in her chest, and her body remained rooted to the spot. Fear, no terror gripped her. She had never believed in ghosts neither had she seen one...... until now.
She remained speechless!
With the curtains fluttering violently, the figure faded into a mist that rose from the ground, vanishing like smoke into the night air.
All images are AI generated.
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