Sex with a Ghost 1&2

"Is this the same Philomena you are talking about?" he asked with his finger over her face. Fingers trembling with suspense, I slowly pushed his hand away to have a clearer view. I took a closer look at her face. Her face slowly formed in my mind. Jesus! It was my Philomena, I was certain. She wore the same beautiful smile that spread even into her eyes, her hair flowing over her shoulders, and her chest still heavy, the loosed shirt she wore did nothing to hide it. My heart nearly stopped and it felt as though every hair on my body turned instantly grey. Hot tears burned my eyes.

"She slept one night in that same room you stay now and never woke up. Some people said her husband must have used her for rituals but I personally didn't believe them. Her husband was a good man and…"

He went on blabbing unaware of the storm he had set in motion within me. So, Nono, my little cousin was right after all. Someone really died in that room. So I have been having sex with a ghost this entire time? How did I even come about the name Philomena? I could not remember been introduced to her by anyone. The first real encounter I had with her was that sex we had on the couch while I was drunk. That should be why all the sex seems to begin when am about to fall asleep or waking up from one. So all the time I had sex with her, it was all in a dream? But they all felt so fucking real.

Jesus! The thought of having sex with a ghost made me sick all over. My stomach knotted as a full-blown terror took root. A fever ran down my body and my skin gallop with goose pimple.

"Do you see her?" his question brought me back to reality.

I nodded slowly.

"So those times I see you talking to yourself, it is her you are talking to?"

I motioned.

"Jesus!" he exclaimed. "You need deliverance with serious prayers oh!"

I was about to respond when a sudden cry for help came from the main building.

"Did you hear that?" Khalid asked already frighten.

"No" I pretended, trying to think of the next line of action. I can't remain here, Uncle Philip will surely have me arrested and tortured before sending me back to my mother. All he needs to do is deny. My aunt will certainly believe her husband and not me.

"Help! Somebody should please help me!" the loud cry returned.

"What's that?" Khalid asked already shaken up with fear.

"I don't know!"

"Could it be the ghost?" he asked unsurely.

"Maybe…" I responded with both hands outstretched innocently.

Khalid didn't allow me to finish before he took to his heels, his legs almost touching the back of his head. Left with no other option I ran away with him heading to the ministry of the lady from the bus in search for answers.

*******************

I sat on the front pew on the right side of the massive church, admiring how enchanting and breathtaking the building was. It's fantastic architecture and exquisite paintings of the suffering of our Lord Jesus Christ and some of his disciples reflected perfectly the sacrifice made to offer us the gift of salvation.

The smell of incense mixed with disinfectant formed a cocktail of warm smoke – its stench strong enough to wrap one's mind in a cloudy, perfumed thought. Occasionally, the soft cold breeze brought in the fresh and sweet scent of rose from the flowers outside to sanitize the atmosphere.

An overpowering feeling of inner peace overtook me and God seemed much closer. I knew for sure this has to be a place where prayers are answered and magic is done. As evening approached, the gold coloured sunray flowed in through the windows and filled the sleepy alter with life and hope. This gave me a certain joy and assurance that someone bigger than life itself is really out there, above, waiting to answer my prayer. He has to, I need him right now, I have doubted his existence after the loss of my father but I give all that up now. I repented within, asking for forgiveness.

Speedily, I made the sign of the cross and began praying silently in my heart. Asking Him to help me carry my cross and set me free from the grip of Satan. I reminded him that I am his son, created in his image and likeness, and as such should have no association whatsoever with the powers of the dark.

The heavy oak doors broke open, echoing around the empty church. I heard female footstep approaching from behind. I quickly concluded the prayer and made the sign of the cross again.

"Amen," a familiar voice echoed.

I glanced above and it was the Prophetess from the bus earlier that day.

"Welcome, Ma" I got on my feet and gave a slight bow as a sign of respect.

"I knew I was going to see you again" she stretched out her hand.

"Thank you ma, for agreeing to see me" I took her hand in a warm handshake.

With a thin, patronizing smile, she said "Oh, please call me Pastor Vivian" she sat on the edge of the pew and added, "What's your name?"

"Alexander" I replied avoiding her gaze. It bored into my soul, in search of my problems, filled with questions, which made me really uneasy.

After adjusting her lemon-coloured blouse and smoothing her purple suit skirt, she asked calmly "So Alex, what brings you to the house of the lord in such a hurry?"

"I…" my words failed me, and not sure how to begin, I cleared my throat and slowly wiped my face nervously.

I nodded and then began "I… I think I have a spiritual wife"