My father had always forbidden me to spend the night or be alone at my grandfather’s apartment. Whenever I asked my father why, he simply shrugged and said I would understand when I grew older. Well, now I’m 35 years old, and guess what, I do understand, or at least I thought I did. During my teen years and well into my 20’s, I always assumed my grandfather suffered from some kind of mental illness - some of my friends even suggested that he was some kind of a creep, especially after what happened to my brother.
My grandfather spent a lot of time in Africa, and I do mean a lot of time. I only did see him in the summertime, when he came home to Denmark to visit me and the rest of my family. He always brought home gifts, so me and my brother were always looking forward to his visit. However, as the years went by, the gifts became stranger, and stranger. I do remember one time, when I was maybe 12 or 13 years old, my grandfather brought home some kind of lizard, which was preserved in a bottle of alcohol. He explained to me that the contents of the bottle would protect me, but how and from what I can’t remember. I do however remember how I almost cried as I pulled the lizard bottle out from the case and my fathers outrage about this strange gift.
My grandfather was a very handsome man, and you would never have guessed his real age. He was a real ladies man, and he seduced a lot of women, even some of my moms friends, which as I grew older, really impressed me, since they were half his age. When I think about it, I do remember some of my lady friends found him to be quite interesting and attractive. Everyone seemed to get along with him fine, and this just added to my confusion about not being allowed to be alone at his place.
The apartment my grandfather lived in was a part of a larger building my father owned. The apartment was on the top floor and quite big and spacious. Most of the supporting wood beams were exposed, and some of the ceiling beams were covered in strange signs and symbols. Because the apartment’s floor was covered in a dark carpet and the wooden beams themselves were somewhat dark, the few windows had some trouble lighting up the place, so the place had a very cozy and relaxing atmosphere.
My favorite room was the living room. The living room was a rather large room, at one corner was a small office space, with a desk, chairs, bookcases, and in the opposite corner a glass cabinet with a small table. In the middle of the room were a seating area with 5 comfy chairs, each with their own small standing ashtray in brass and oak, and a round table with plenty of space. At the back of the room was the best feature, a rather large rustic stone fireplace, quite uncommon in danish apartments. In front of the fireplace were two big majestic chesterfield armchairs. A square mahogany table with maple inlays stood between the chairs. At either side of the fireplace were two towering mahogany bookcases, with carved symbols and figurines on the edges.
The apartment was always very clean and tidy - even when he was in Africa, this always puzzled me, since my father insisted that no one would come and clean. Throughout the apartment were a lot of artifacts, charms, relics and other strange stuff. One of the more exotic things was a beautiful wooden door, with a very realistic naked African woman carved onto it.
I remember my brother and I were always allowed to play with all the small figurines, games, charms and of course, dress in all of the funny african outfits. There were only a few items we were forbidden to touch or play with - I do not recall how they looked, but they were all locked away in the glass cabinet in the living room. Only my brother was ever left alone at one time in the apartment when I was around 10 years old and he must have been around 12. I remember how he was crying and shaking when me, dad and my grandfather came back from the bakery and found him by the glass cabinet, which he somehow had unlocked and opened. My grandfather was furious and threw a tantrum, yelling and pointing in different directions, switching between danish and some unknown language, it was almost like he was scolding the empty air itself.
After that day, my brother never wanted to return to the apartment. I never got a straight answer from him about what happened, and the few times I have brought it up and asked what really happened, both my brother and my dad assured me that my brother was simply frightened by something, even though their eyes and demeanor always told a completely different story.
We slowly lost contact with my grandfather after that incident, he visited us fewer times, and almost stopped sending postcards. The gifts he brought when he did visit became stranger and stranger still, and after about 4 or 5 years almost all contact with him had ceased. Only my dad talked to him on special occasions.
After many, many years, the day came when I got a call that turned an otherwise sunny day into a dark one. My grandfather had died in Africa and apparently had been dead for some time. Therefore my dad had to fly to Africa to handle my grandfather’s estate rather hastily, and for moral support, my brother chose to accompany him. Before my dad left, he asked me to check in on my grandfather’s apartment, but with clear instructions that I was not to spend the night, or stay for any length of time and call him when I left. I of course asked why, like I had done so many times in the past, but before completing my sentence, my dad said in a rather angry and serious tone of voice “just do what I say boy! Please…I..I’ll try to explain everything later…” and then he handed me a spare key. “Alright” I thought, “grandfather’s death had clearly hit him hard…”.
It is true what they say, time really does fly, and it had been maybe 20 years since the last time I was in my grandfather’s apartment. The last time I was there was in my late teens, but I’m not actually sure.
As I parked my car and walked towards the entrance leading up to my grandfather’s apartment, my stomach began to tense up. “Of course you feel this way” I thought, “It has been like 20 years since the last time you were here..it’s only normal”, so I dismissed the feeling and went inside.
I always loved walking up to my grandfather’s, as it felt like visiting a secret place. Because of how the building had been modernized and refurbished, the original staircase were no longer accessible from the inside floors, and a new entry way had been made in the form of a small door, which was discreetly placed in the gateway connecting the courtyard with the street. As I walked up the winding stairs, the squeaking sounds of the steps, the aroma of the old wallpaper and carpet put a small happy smile on my face. As a boy, these sounds and smells meant I was in for a treat, as I would soon get to see grandpa. “It’s truly been too long since my last visit” I thought.
At the top of the staircase was a small room, which functioned as a wardrobe. As I removed my coat and shoes I looked around curiously, like a little boy. The stool my dad broke 25 years ago still occupied the corner, the umbrella stand was, as always, full of empty bottles and not umbrellas and the shelves were littered with gloves, scarfs and other winter essential items.
I looked at the door leading into the apartment and froze for a moment. “This was the first time I would not be greeted by my grandfather” I thought, my smile fading away. I sighed while I opened the door and walked in.
As I closed the door behind me I stood in the rather big hallway, which connected all the various rooms. The apartment was calm and quiet, only the faint noise of traffic from the street down below pierced the stillness. Even though I knew it wouldn’t happen, I still kind of expected my grandfather to appear and greet me, but to no surprise the stillness prevailed. I sighed and started my tour around the apartment.
As I walked around, I could recognize most of the charms, trinkets and figurines. They stood exactly as I remembered. Even the scary old wooden mask grandfather used to put on, when we all danced around the place pretending to do an african dance, hung in its rightful place. I took it down and looked at it more closely, I couldn’t help but smile, “This isn’t as scary as I remembered” I thought and put it back half shaking my head still half smiling. I came to the bedroom and took a deep breath through my nose “Yep that’s the smell” I thought, and continued my tour. I came across the glass cabinet in the living room, the very place we had found my brother screaming and crying. This memory almost washed away all the other, very pleasant ones of us playing at this exact spot, I sighed deeply and my smile had all but vanished.
As I walked to the fireplace I spotted the lizard bottle still with the birthday card attached to the neck, “That stupid thing” I thought as I walked past it. I reached the armchair in front of the fireplace and sat down. The chessboard me and my grandfather used to play was, as always, sat up on that beautiful mahogany table. I moved some of the chess pieces and thought about how he had tried to teach me the complex game. As I sat there thinking about grandpa and all of the strange stories he had told me, my eyes became watery as I thought about the last time we laughed together, and I let out a huge sigh.
After I had spent what seemed like an eternity in my memories, I called my dad and told him that the apartment was nice and tidy, as always. My dad and brother were still on their way to the airport, so we chatted for a bit, and I wished them a safe flight and left the apartment.
As I was walking towards my car, I bumped into one of my old childhood friends. We chatted for a while and decided to go out and grab a bite to eat, as I could really use some cheering up. As often happens in Denmark, we indulged in a fair bit of alcohol and after some hours we decided to part company. When I came back to my car, I thought about how much alcohol I had consumed. I tried to stand on one leg, which challenged my balance a fair bit. “Yeah, you shouldn’t really drive anywhere” I said to myself. Now what to do I pondered, I could call a cap or just walk home, it is not that far, maybe a 45-50 minutes walk. “Or….you could just stay here tonight, no one would know…” I thought. After a short moral debate with myself, I decided to spend the night at my grandfather’s, afterall what harm could there be?
I walked up to the apartment, up the winding stairs and let myself in. As it was only around 8:30 PM, I decided it was a bit too early to go to bed, so I lit up the fireplace and proceeded to walk over to the liquor cabinet, which stood out in the hallway. This monstrosity was, as everything else in this place, a thing of beauty despite its size. It was made of African teak, had motifs of the African savanna and various animals carved into it, the cabinet legs resembled buffalo feet and the overall attention to details were just amazing.
As I looked at all the bottles I put on a big smile and nodded with satisfaction. My dear old grandfather had a lot of nice whisky, rum and other funny looking bottles, with some weird signs on them. “Surely they must be some kind of African tribal booze” I thought.
I grabbed a bottle of whisky, a Chivas Regal Salute 21 year old, not the most exotic bottle I could have picked, but I did really like the Chivas brand, and I had never sampled the 21 year old before. The bottle was a work of art, dark blue, and with a lion emblem molded into the bottle itself, right below the letters “Royal Salute 21 years”.
I picked up a nice and heavy crystal whisky glass, and was about to wipe it clean of dust when I noticed that it was spotless. “eh” I thought. In fact, the whole cabinet was spotless just like the rest of the apartment, something I simply hadn’t noticed or given any thought too earlier. Clearly grandfather had hired someone to come and keep his place spotless. Afterall, he was very well off financially, and what other explanation could there be? Maybe my dad came and cleaned the place, that thought made me laugh a bit. I poured some of the whisky into the glass, swirled it around and smelled it “Damn that’s some fine whisky“ I thought, as I admired the deep amber color.
I kind of strolled back to the fireplace, almost zig-zagging, while I looked around at the various things.The Lizard bottle was placed on the round table in the middle of the living room, making it hard to ignore, so I walked up to it. It was a plain 1L glass bottle, with a fully intact lizard inside, which filled almost the whole bottle. I put the whisky glass on the table and picked up the Lizard bottle. As I picked it up, all of the scales from the lizard began to swirl around in the clear liquid, “God, that’s disgusting” I thought.
As I held the bottle I could feel some indentations on it. Upon closer inspection, there were two lines of symbols encircling the bottle at the top and bottom, the dim lightning made it difficult for me to identify them properly, so I gave up and switched my attention to the birthday card and as I opened it, a small envelope fell out. The envelope was of a newer date, but still felt kind of old. The letter was addressed to me “Too Karsten from grandpa”. “A letter for me…funny how neither dad og my grandfather had never mentioned it” I thought. I swapped the disgusting lizard bottle for the nice glass of whisky and walked over to the fireplace.
As I sat down in the comfy chair, I smelled the whisky one last time before taking a sip and damn, that Royal Salute did not disappoint. It was very smooth and I could clearly differentiate all of the different notes in the whisky, the finish lingered on and was very pleasant. I opened the letter and started reading:
“Dear Karsten…” it read.
“I imagine you are reading this letter because I died in Africa. I love you Karsten, and always have, but first things first.
I know your dad has warned you many times about spending any length of time in my apartment. If by any chance you are at my apartment as you are reading this, please Karsten, leave now, and take the Lizard bottle with you, it’s on the roundtable. I will explain everything on the following pages…”
“Leave now…?” I thought, as I took another big sip of that exquisite whisky. A strange unnerving feeling was slowly creeping through my body as I began to tap the whisky glass with my index finger. I have never seen myself as a superstitious person, and I absolutely did not believe in any divine power or any hocus pocus stuff. Even still, I could not shake that unnerving feeling, that I ought to follow the direction of my grandfather.
“Leave now…? Well… not until I have a refill and read the rest of this letter” I chuckled, while I emptied the glass of its flavorful content.
As I walked over to the liquor cabinet, I thought about all sorts of reasons why I was not allowed to stay at the apartment. It sort of made sense, that children should not be left alone with all sorts of valuable and fragile relics. Hell, I remember when I was a boy and I accidentally bumped into the shelves in the hallway, and an old clay War Mask fell out and hit the floor, and shattered into a million pieces. But now? I could honestly not come up with a good reason for leaving. After all, I was not a stranger but family, and I had no intentions of rummaging through my grandfather’s things, so what harm could there be?
As I was refilling my glass, my eye caught something, a small latch at the back of one of the shelves in the liquor cabinet. My curiosity quickly got the better of me, so I moved the bottles out of the way so I could get a better look. Sure enough, there seemed to be an extra compartment in the cabinet. It was not hidden as such, but you sure had to look closely to spot it. “I’ll look at this later” I thought, since the letter from my grandfather still occupied the majority of my thoughts. I returned to the fireplace, stoked the fire and sat down, sipping some of the whisky, god it was a real treat.
“Alright, let me get back to this letter and see what all of the fuss is about” I thought as I picked up the letter and turned the page.
“Karsten, I’m sorry I can’t explain this in person, it would have been a bit easier and I fear you will not take my words seriously.
Your brother has already encountered some of them who linger in my apartment. It is very important that you go and talk to him, he will make you understand all of this much better than I ever can.
The following pages contain a set of instructions, take them and the Lizard bottle with you to your brother. Be very gentle with the Lizard bottle, you do not want to anger it.
Jørgen”
I sat for a moment, tapping the whisky glass with my index fingers, baffled by what I had just read. Surely this must be some kind of joke, or the scrambled thoughts of a mentally ill man. I was nevertheless intrigued and continued reading these so-called instructions.
The next pages were clearly of a much older date, the paper was rippled and the ink had almost faded away in a few places, as I held the pages the musty smell of old paper started to fill the air. The sentences were written with very fine coherent writing, making it difficult to read for someone like me, who grew up only really using block letters. Alas, I gave it a go anyway.
“Dear Jørgen Karsten
The Sangoma has given me clear instructions about the spirit, which she has bound in the Akkedis for you, in payment of the debt she owes you.
The spirit is very strong and should offer you excellent protection, should you ever need it.”
I sipped some whisky and thought for a minute, “Sangoma…I do believe that means shaman….Akkedis..? Akkedisss….? Hmm..” I had no idea what that word ment and continued on reading.
“When you need the gift from the Akkedis, pour the liquid around you in the sign of Nyame Nwu Na Mawu, now the gift will be upon you.
Do respect the bottle and treat it well, it is a home now, remember this.
When you use the Akkedis, have the Gris-gris ready to take in your mouth, so you do not become its home. Very, very important.
I wish you well.
Njeri Abara”
On the following page were some symbols and drawings. One of the symbols was circled, clearly this was important somehow. At the bottom left of the page was a rather big drawing of some kind of amulet with the sentence “Gris-gris” written under it.
“That amulet, I have seen that before…” I thought, as I sipped that delicious whisky. The rest of the pages were so faded away, I gave up trying to read them. I carefully folded the pages back into the envelope and then just sat there, listening to the crackling sound of the fireplace, watching the flames dance, while I tried to understand what I had just read.
“What had my brother encountered? Surely they don’t mean ghosts…that’s…..that’s just silly” I thought. I had stopped tapping the whisky glass, the unnerving feeling had passed, and been replaced by a cozy, almost happy feeling. Of course it had, alcohol and a fireplace have a tendency to relax the mind. I began to poke the coal and burning wood with the fire iron, as I continued my thoughts about this whole matter. After I had downed the rest of the whisky I looked at my watch “9:30 pm”. “Still not bedtime yet” I thought, “ I still have things to do here.” thinking about the compartment in the liquor cabinet.
As I walked back to the cabinet, the Lizard bottle caught my eye again. I stopped and looked at it, the scales were still swirling around in it, even though it had been some time since I had disturbed its peaceful slumber. “That’s strange” I thought, and moved on.
At the liquor cabinet I unhatched the latch and opened the compartment. It was rather small and filled with dust and spider webs. “Interesting…” I thought, nodding my head in acknowledgement. I could just make out what looked like a bottle. The compartment was just big enough that I could get my hand inside and wiggle the first bottle out of its dusty tomb. The bottle was of an unknown brand and had no identifiers on it, “Secret African savanna booze” I thought with a half smile. I wiggled my hand back inside the compartment and slowly felt around. “Another bottle, yes…” I said to myself as I wiggled the bottle out. As I dusted the bottle off I recognised it as a Macallan, no doubt about it.
“Ohh my…” I almost said out loud, as I examined the bottle, my hands began to shake lightly. This was no ordinary Macallan, but a bottle from 1940. I do know a bit about whisky, and this, it’s worth a small fortune. I carefully sat the bottle back in the cabinet, making sure it was in a corner where it would not accidentally tip over. I resumed my examination of the compartment, what else would this small treasure chamber reveal? I spent some time combing and prodding through the dust and spider webs. It was difficult to maneuver my hand inside the compartment because of the small entrance and the odd angle of my arm. I had my whole forearm in, and was just about to give up when I felt it, a small box of sorts and by the feel of it, it was in a very bad condition. I slowly and patiently wiggle the box out and success, I had done it. It was indeed a small wooden box, but the wood had almost disintegrated. It had originally been locked by a padlock, but because of the sorry state of the box, the padlock hardly had any function, and as I was turning the box the whole thing just fell apart.
“What’s this?” I mumbled, fetching a beautiful gold link bracelet up from the remains of the box. The bracelet was about 18 cm long with rectangular plates linked together by small chains, each plate had one, two or three symbols on it. As I looked closer I did recognize some of the symbols. One was “Sunsum”, which simply translates to “Soul”. I did not quite remember what the symbol was used for. However, I did know the meaning of another symbol I recognized, “Eban” which translates to “Fence”, a symbol for safety and is used to separate and secure one self from the outside. I was a bit amused that I could use anything from my grandfather’s many stories, as I cleaned the bracelet with my T-shirt. Of course I tried the bracelet on, I mean, did I really need a reason? The bracelet fitted my wrist like a charm, and weighed more than I expected. A strange feeling began to occupy my body and I felt a bit different, a feeling I couldn’t quite describe.
“It’s been a long day” I thought, “You are clearly more tied and affected by all of this than you realize” and I decided not to investigate the small compartment any further. I looked at my watch “10:30 pm”, then I glanced over at the fireplace, which still had a fair bit of wood still left to burn.
“Alright, one more drink and then you go to bed” I said to myself. Before I poured my last whisky for the night, I needed to visit the bathroom. As I walked to the bathroom, I thought that maybe the real reason I’m not allowed to be alone here was because of the valuable stuff I might find and keep. But… if that was the reason, why on earth would my dad give me a spare key? I quickly dismissed the thought, since it didn’t really make any sense.
The door to the bathroom had that carving of the beautiful African women. As I reached for the door handle, I found myself mesmerized by this fabulous wooden piece of art. I had never looked at the wooden figurine this way before, it was almost as if her wooden eyes stared back at me, gazing at me, looking through me and into my soul. I touched her leg, it was as smooth as silk and surprisingly warm to the touch, it was almost like…
“Damn, maybe you should skip that last drink and go straight to bed” I thought, as I collected myself and went into the bathroom to do my business.
The bathroom was smaller than I remembered, actually it was quite snug, smelled a bit weird and was surprisingly dirty, dust everywhere, even dead flies could be found in the small window. The cleaning personnel had clearly neglected this room for some time, which seemed a bit strange, but then again, they had done a wonderful job in the rest of the apartment so it must be by design. The room was quite boring, the only touch of Africa was a symbol painted on the toilet seat “Opelyf”, which I remembered to symbolize a good bowel movement or something in that order, I chuckled a bit.
As I left the bathroom I could hear what sounded like faint chatter, almost like a chanting of sorts. I could only assume that the noise came from one of the other apartments, afterall it was friday, so maybe somebody somewhere was throwing a party.
“Ah well, I might as well indulge in one last drink” I thought. “With any luck the neighbors will have quieted down by the time I finish”. So I walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured what I thought was the last drink that night, one last Royal Salute 21. On my way back to the fireplace, I paid a visit to one of the bookcases next to the fireplace in search of a book that could help me identify the various symbols on the bracelet.
The bookcase was only half full of books, not because of a lack of books though, but simply because of its sheer size. In between the books stood pictures of my grandfather with various african tribes, “He sure had visited a lot of them over the years” I thought while looking at them all. One particular picture stood out, its frame was a lot more decorated than the other ones, with various wooden flowers carved into the frame, so I picked it up and took a closer look.
The picture was black and white, and showed grandfather standing on the savanna with a rifle over his right shoulder looking real proud of himself, on his left stood a woman dressed in some funny outfit and with a wooden staff of sorts, her outfit was partly ripped apart and her left arm was bandaged up. In front of them layed a dead lion, which looked to be quite large, larger than any lion I had ever seen.I put the picture back and continued my search among the many books. I pulled out a book with various symbols and charms printed on the book cover, and with the title “African symbols - History, interpretation and Folklore. Vol. VII. By N. Abara”, this will properly do just fine I thought and walked off.
I sat down by the fireplace again, sipped some whisky and then just sat there for a while, holding up my right wrist to admire how the light reflected off the bracelet. It was almost as if I entered some kind of trance, just sitting there, listening to the neighbors’ chants while the flames danced on the gold. It was almost like the chanting got louder the more I focused on the bracelet, it was surely something I couldn’t quite explain or had experienced before. “That 21 year old whisky sure does wonders to your state of mind” I thought, as I collected myself. I opened up the book and began to read about the symbols on the bracelet.
Sunsum “Soul”, refers to a person’s soul. As I mentioned before, I already knew this symbol. It was often a part of some of the stories grandfather told me. The same goes for the symbol Eban “Fence”, which often were engraved on doorways, in order to protect the people inside. I was a bit surprised to learn that the symbol also could be used to trap someone in a place.
Gehoorsaam “Obedience”, symbolized making someone of something obedient.
Anetobi “Spirit bridge”, symbolized to communicate with the spirit world or as a means of travel. Beheer “Control”, symbolized control over someone or something. Wawa Aba “Seed”, A seed of a Wawa tree, symbolized perseverance. Verlei “Seduce/Discourge”, making someone like you or discourage someone. Epa “Handcuffs”, which symbolized law and justice. There was one last symbol I couldn’t find in the book.
“Interesting I thought”, looking at the various symbols on the bracelet and how they almost merge into one another. The book contained a chapter about various artifacts and charms and what the different combination of symbols could mean. I glossed over the various descriptions and images.
“What’s this now” I thought, as I saw three symbols next to each other with a “danger” marker on. I read the textbox:
“Epa, meaning handcuffs, is often used to describe law and justice. However, when combined with the symbols “Beheer “Control” and Eban “Fence”, the meaning tends to be interpreted as trapped or chained up.
The first encounter of these symbols in this configuration originates from the Shaman Imamu, and was used on the neck collars the prisoners of his tribe wore.
Legend describes that one cannot remove an item, be it clothing, neck wear, jewelry or something else with these symbols on it.
Only a specific talisman, a so-called “Vrylati” can help the person remove the item. See page 172 for a detailed description ”
“What a load of old African Superstition” I thought, while I looked at one of the bracelet links containing these three symbols. The noise from the neighbors seemed to have stopped, I sighed a breath of relief, downed the last whisky and was about to remove the bracelet when I felt a great fear rush through my body. It was like I was about to do something very dangerous, like jumping off a building or taking a dive into ice cold water. My left hand simply hovered over the bracelet clasp. I felt a big knot in my stomach and everything in my body just screamed: no!
“Whaa….whaat?” I surprisingly thought, as I tried to muster the courage to remove the bracelet. I laughed half hysterically, and couldn’t quite take the situation seriously.
“Come now, this is ridiculous’’ I thought, while laughing over the stupidity of the situation. “Just open the clasp and remove the damn bracelet ‘’ I said loudly to myself. But the fear and the knots in my stomach just kept growing alongside my conviction to remove the bracelet.
The sounds of the crackling fire filled the living room, the flames danced silently as I sat in silence rubbing my left eyebrow and staring quite seriously at the bracelet with a firm look. I made another attempt, this time by placing the bracelet clasp at the edge of the table, and I felt it again, the overwhelming fear, like I was about to pull out a tooth. I just couldn’t do it.
I looked down at the floor, bouncing my knee up and down in a fast pace, as I thought about all the rational reasons for what was happening. No matter how much I wanted to explain it away, I just couldn’t. This was truly something different. I could feel how the fear started to creep into me, slowly but steadily.
“Maybe it’s time to leave” I thought, and quickly but calmingly stood up, moved the last burning log to the back of the fireplace where It could burn out safely and I went to the door. As I reached out for the door handle, my hand began to shake violently, and a feeling of pure dread filled my entire body.
I backed away from the door and the minutes ticked by, as I simply stood in awe and disbelief, my heart pounding. Here I was, an adult person, who had never given a thought to the supernatural, and somehow, I was what? Trapped in my grandfather’s apartment? Simply because I was afraid to leave?
“Nonsens” I thought and reached out again, this time almost leaping towards the door. I managed to touch the door handle but nothing more, as my entire body seemed to scream with a mounting dread, my knees gave way as I stumbled backwards, shaking almost uncontrollable.
I sat in front of the door in a kneeling position, the shaking had slowly ceased but the dread still occupied my entire body, I felt like my stomach had turned into a dark pit of despair. I started to laugh hysterically and collapsed on the floor.
Out of breath and with tears in my eyes, I finally collected myself somewhat. I turned on to my back, gazing up at the ceiling, looking at the strange symbols on the beams, catching my breath. One of the symbols directly over the door seemed to almost glow, pulsating, humming, as if it was somehow alive, because of my watery eyes, I was unable to clearly identify what symbol it was. “Anytime now” I thought, as I fully expected to wake up and realize that all of this had just been a dream. But this didn’t happen…
I felt very strange, like I somehow was questioning my whole existence in this mortal world. After all, how could all of this be real? It struck me, like lightning from a clear sky, “None of this is real” I thought, “clearly the whisky had been spiked with some kind of drug” I concluded “What other explanation could there be? Ghosts and spirits? African Voodoo?” I began to chuckle in disbelief while I wiped my eyes dry with my T-shirt.
A part of me didn’t really believe this explanation. As a boy, whenever me and my dad visited the apartment, he always indulged in the many treats the liquor cabinet had to offer. Even when we were just making a short visit to collect my grandfather’s mail, my dad would sample at least one glass of whisky or rum. And how could a drug have such a specific effect? I actually felt quite clear in my head, and felt fully in control of my faculties as I waved my hands around the air. However, the explanation seemed to help ease the fear and seriousness of the situation a bit, so I entertained it anyway.
“Alright” I thought, “Maybe you should just play along in this, eh, hallucination…what did the book say? Some talisman could remove the damn bracelet, maybe I should see if I can find one, maybe…maybe the hallucination will create one for me…?”. The thought didn’t help much, but what could I do? I had to try something.
With the faintest of hope, I got back up on my feet and decided to rummaging through the apartment, hopefully I would find my salvation, or at least, uncover more information about what was actually happening here…