The smell of wild blooming lilies and cold dampness, coated the air of the funeral ground. The mourners were gathering in their usual black clothing, moving with the noise of a restless flock of crows. In the coffin lay Eche, the deceased, with a face that was eerily serene.
In the second row sat Ezinwa. Her hands folded stiffly in her lap, she was not crying, she just stared at the coffin, too numb to feel any emotion. Her tears refused to fall. Her gaze was vacant and hollow as it shifted restlessly through the crowd, still in denial that they had gathered because of her husband, Eche.
A few weeks ago, he was full of life and vigour, making plans for the future, but today.....her thoughts trailed off.
She would wake up and discover it was all a dream, she had told herself countless times.
The priest began chanting the Requiem Mass and his voice grew louder, “...Dust to Dust, … ashes to ashes…”
And just immediately, a sound cut through the air.
“Ezinwa!”
Her head jerked up. Everyone else had their heads bowed in prayer.
The voice sounded again, rough, cold, and brimming with anger.
“You killed me!”
Her breath caught in her throat. It was Eche's voice.
Her eyes darted around the church from person to person, but it seemed no one else could hear it. They just kept murmuring Amen, faithfully. Only she heard it.
The coffin shook violently. A voice growled from within, the sound wafted through the room like a distant wave on the verge of crashing.
Ezinwa stumbled to her feet. "Stop it," she whispered. "I didn't..."
But the voice screamed louder, drowning her own words.
"Liar! You killed me!"
Her cousin grabbed her arm, frowning. "Ezinwa, what's wrong?"
"You don't hear him?" She whispered.
"Hear who?"
The coffin trembled again, the lid flung open. Then Eche's spirit rose — not in the flesh as a person but as a ghost only Ezinwa could see. His face was distorted. The sockets that held his eyes were smoking holes, giving off a fiery glow.
"They think I fell on the stairs, that it was an accident," he whispered, gliding even closer. "But you left out the part where you pushed me. You pushed me to death!"
Ezinwa's knees buckled. She remembered the argument, the yelling, the physical abuses before then, Eche twisting her wrist too tightly, and her shoving him away with one big push, to free herself from the pain. The stairs had been right there. She hadn't meant him to die. Hadn't meant for his head to hit the marble floor below. She had told herself over and again, that it was an accident.
“No,” she quietly said, shaking, “I didn’t kill you. You fell—”
“You pushed me!” His shout rattled the stained-glass windows.
Ezinwa tried to cover her ears, but she could still hear every note of his yelling, gnawing at her brain. She screamed, a guttural sound that silenced the priest and the entire church.
Every mourner turned, their eyes on her. The priest stopped mid-sentence, his mouth open and his face contorted with disbelief.
Ezinwa was trembling and pointing at the coffin. “He kept saying that I murdered him! "He blames me for his death!"
Gasps filled the room. Her aunt collapsed, and her uncle shouted that someone should restrain her, but no one paid him any attention.
Eche's voice continued its assault as his ghost floated around, screaming louder and louder. “Confess. Confess, or I’ll never rest. You’ll never rest.”
Then Ezinwa lost it. She screamed and sobbed. “Yes! I pushed him! But I didn’t mean it—I swear I didn’t mean to kill him!”
The mourners, shocked beyond words, muttered and crossed themselves.
And then, silence.
The ghost ceased screaming. He floated in space, his expression changing from rage to grim satisfaction. His blazing eyes dimmed.
At last, he whispered, “Now the truth is told.”
After that, he broke down to dust and shadow, and sank back into the coffin. The lid went still.
Ezinwa fell to the floor, weeping, while a hundred horrified accusing eyes stared at her.
The funeral Mass continued, but nobody prayed for her.
They only prayed for the repose of Eche's soul.
And as the coffin was being lowered into the earth, she saw him again—standing by the grave, smiling, invisible to everyone but her.
Her blood ran cold.
When night came, he was waiting at the foot of her bed. He whispered victoriously in the dark.
"You killed me. Now you will rot in jail"
Image is AI generated.
Thank you for reading.