I closed the book and glanced at my watch. It was 3.14am. I wondered if I should ‘chew’ a few more pages of the capture of Timbuktu in the‘Rise and fall of the Mali Empire’. It was 1992 May, secondary school form three. Exams week. I was high on caffeine and sugar, the result of leaving everything till ‘the last days’.

I looked up from my Casio watch. There were just three of us now. It had been an almost full class four hours ago. Obviously the ‘weak’ or the ‘intelligent’ had taken their leave, the remaining… well; they could just be like me. My eyes hadn’t blinked for a while now; I could watch an army of ants move a car and I still won’t blink.

The paper was at 8.30 that morning. I decided I’d go take a shower, eat a bowl of soaking, clean my locker and return to the classroom to finish off with the divisions in the Mali kingdom that led to the rule of the Bambara and Senufo people… ha I thought to myself ‘I will murder these questions so badly these Malian’s will wish someone else did the killing’

I stole glances at the others before I left the classroom. I was making sure everyone of them had their full body support. Two years ago form one; whiles I was trying unsuccessfully to sleep through the delicious smell of ‘homecho’ that some seniors were devouring below me, I heard a commotion outside. We all rushed out. A final year form five student was screaming and shaking like a leaf on the veranda. When she was calm enough to talk she said she was leaving the classroom when she decided to say bye to the girl sitting a few chairs behind her. When she got close enough, she called out but there was no response. She decided to knock on the book covering the face of the person. The hands let go. The book fell flat on the table. There was no face, just hands.

A few days later her parents picked her up. She never returned.

As I made it past the science block I thought again for the tenth time that day what I was going to do with my hair for the long vac. I could go to the Labone lady under the trees for my braids or I could just ‘stretch it’ in the salon. The braids were easier once you got past the eight hours of push and pull torture these girls put you through, plus the smell of the armpits, and the endless gossip about Lumba and how he’s sleeping with his girl dancers. The ‘stretch’ took only an hour to do but I always ended up with burns around my ears. One time I spent my entire vacation nursing a rotting ear…

I stopped. There was a click and then silence.

I thought I head the click of a high heel shoe. I looked around. I was half way between my dorm and the classroom. It was dark; there wasn’t a single person in sight. I took a few steps, the click sound of the high heel resumed. I stopped. It stopped. I broke into cold sweat.

The most popular horror folk tale on campus was ‘Lady High Heel’. Apparently she came to visit someone on campus, left her shoe and on her way back to collect it she had an accident and died and since then her spirit had been roaming the school looking for her other shoe. I had often wondered what she said to people when she met them ‘excuse me have you seen my shoe?’ in a ghostly nasal fashion or did she whack them with the other pair and kept going? Well I wasn’t about to find out. I started to run but my legs won’t carry me. And every time I quickened my steps the click sound of heel got quicker too.

I hid under the stairs and listened as the sound of the heel got louder. My entire life was flashing in front of me. I tried to pray but I couldn’t concentrate. Only last Saturday my friend had extended another invitation to me to come to SU, I had given a ton of excuses and spent the day writing three love letters to my boyfriend in Adisco. I hadn’t gotten a reply to the last two letters but I wasn’t deterred. The guy had descended his tongue down my esophagus and kissed the life out of me near the poki stand and when he begged for more I had given him my left boob to fondle. He sucked it like a new born. I was convinced he was the love of my life. In my third letter I solemnly swore, if ever I saw him again I would gladly offer him my right boob.

The click sound got louder… I was convinced these were the last seconds of life, I muttered ‘Jesus’ loud enough… the click sound seized. And then I heard laughter.

I opened my eyes. The examination’s supervisor stared into them. I blinked in confusion and then it all came rushing back to me like tsunami. I was in the exam room. It was 11.15am. I had only answered three questions out of twenty-four. I had been dreaming.

‘Fifteen minutes remaining’ the supervisor shouted.

She looked at me again.

‘If you doze off again I won’t wake you up’

And then somebody shouted ‘coffee magic’

Like the click sound of the heel, the laughter only got louder.

“Thelma Louis” is a new GhanaCelebrities.Com weekly column with no borders on the speed and distance it will take your imagination, while tackling some of our everyday issues—in reality and in fantasy.

All Thelma Louis’ write up will be filed under her name column-Thelma Louis.

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