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Lucinda Victor/The Woman I'm Becoming

Lucinda Victor/The Woman I'm Becoming

Entrepreneur, Storyteller, and Woman of Faith. I share real stories about Growth, Purpose, Life, and Becoming the Woman God is shaping me to be.

Ghost Story
Final Episode: The Night God Answered

After the incident in your room, fear settled permanently inside the compound.

Nobody spoke loudly anymore.

Nobody stayed awake unnecessarily after midnight.

Even your father, despite his stubbornness, began sleeping with a Bible beside his pillow.
Because everybody had finally accepted the truth.
Something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

And somehow… it had attached itself to you.
The days that followed felt unreal.

Your body became weaker with each passing night.

Sometimes you stared at people without realizing it.
Sometimes you heard voices even during conversations.

And worst of all…

You no longer trusted your own mind.
The whispers never stopped now.
Sometimes they sounded distant.
Other times they spoke directly beside your ear.

They called your name softly while you ate.

While you bathed.

While you prayed.

And every night at exactly 2:13am…
You woke up feeling something standing beside your bed.

Watching you silently.

Waiting.

Your mother stopped allowing you sleep alone after what happened.
She prayed constantly now.

Morning.

Afternoon.

Night.

Sometimes you woke up and found her laying hands on your forehead while crying quietly.

You knew she was afraid.

Everyone was.

But perhaps nobody feared more than you.
Because deep down…
You could feel yourself slowly slipping away.

One evening during devotion, your mother suddenly stopped praying halfway.

Then she looked directly at you.

Not fearfully.

Not angrily.

But firmly.

“We are going for vigil tonight.”
Your chest tightened instantly.

The moment she said it, something inside you became restless.
“No,” you whispered immediately.

Your mother held your hand gently.
“Yes.”
Panic rose violently inside you.
“I can’t go.”
“You must.”

Your breathing became uneven.
Because suddenly the whispers began screaming inside your head.

DON’T GO.

Your hands trembled violently.
Your father noticed immediately.
But your mother remained calm.

For the first time in days, her voice sounded strong.
“Whatever is fighting you,” she said quietly, “will not win.”

That night, rain fell heavily across the village.
The church building stood quietly beneath flashes of lightning as people slowly gathered for vigil.

You almost turned back three different times.
The closer you get to the church entrance, the worse the pressure inside your chest becomes.

It felt as though invisible hands were pulling you backward.
Your legs suddenly felt heavy.
Your head pounded violently.

And then…
You smelled rotten tomatoes again.
Strong.

Overwhelming.

Right behind you.

Slowly… you turned around.
And there she stood.
The market woman.
At the far end of the road beneath the rain.
Watching you.
This time, she no longer pretended to look human.

Her body looked twisted unnaturally.

Her neck bent too far sideways.

Her eyes completely white.

And her smile…
God.

That smile.
“Come with me,” she whispered softly.
Your body froze instantly.

Then suddenly—
Your mother grabbed your hand firmly.
“Do not look at her.”

You burst into tears immediately.
“She won’t leave me alone,” you cried.

Your mother pulled you toward the church entrance.

And the moment your feet crossed into the church…

The lights went out.

Darkness swallowed everything instantly.

People gasped.

Thunder exploded outside.

Then came the laughter.

That same terrible laughter.

Only louder now.

Everywhere.

Inside the church.

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Women began praying immediately.
Some started crying.
The atmosphere suddenly turned heavy.

Oppressive.

Then without warning—
You screamed.
Pain tore violently through your body as you collapsed onto the floor.

It felt as though invisible hands were dragging you backward.
The whispers inside your head became unbearable.
LEAVE THIS PLACE.

Your body shook violently.
Your mother held you tightly while praying through tears.
The choir leader rushed forward immediately.
Others joined.
Soon the entire church was praying.

Loudly.

Aggressively.

The atmosphere shifted instantly.
For the first time in weeks…
The fear inside you weakened slightly.

Then suddenly—
You saw her.
Standing at the church entrance.

The market woman.
But now everyone could see her.
Screams filled the church immediately.
Some people fell to their knees praying.
Others cried openly.

The woman’s appearance no longer looked human at all.
Her skin appeared blackened and cracked.
Her mouth stretched unnaturally wide.

And surrounding her…
Shadowy figures stood silently behind her beneath the rain.

Watching.

Waiting.

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The church trembled with prayers.
Your mother held your head firmly against her chest while speaking in tongues through tears.

The pastor arrived moments later and immediately began praying over you.

At first, nothing happened.
The whispers only grew louder.

Then suddenly…
You remembered something.
A scripture your choir leader once taught during rehearsal.

You had not thought about it in months.
But somehow it came clearly now.
“The light shines in darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it.”
Tears filled your eyes instantly.
And for the first time since this nightmare began…
You prayed from deep within your heart.

Not out of fear.

Not mechanically.

But sincerely.

Desperately.

“Jesus… help me.”

The atmosphere inside the church changed immediately.
A powerful wind swept suddenly through the building although all the windows were closed.

The lantern flames rose violently.

The shadowy figures outside began moving backward slowly.
And then the market woman screamed.

Not like a human.

Something ancient.

Something broken.

Something furious.

Your entire body shook violently as the pastor continued praying.

Then suddenly—
The graveyard smell disappeared.

The whispers stopped.

The pressure around your chest vanished completely.

And outside…
The rain ceased instantly.

Silence filled the church.

Heavy.

Unbelievable silence.

Slowly…
Very slowly…
You lifted your head.

The church entrance was empty.

The market woman was gone.

The shadowy figures had disappeared.

Only the wet night remained.

You burst into tears immediately.
Not fearful tears.
Relieved tears.
Your mother held you tightly while crying beside you.

Even your father wept silently.
And for the first time in many weeks…
Peace entered your chest again.

Real peace.

The days that followed felt different.

Lighter.

Your strength slowly returned.
Your sleep became normal again.

No more whispers.

No more nightmares.

No more rotten smell.

Eventually, life inside the compound returned to normal.
Your father recovered completely.
The strange occurrences stopped.
Even the lonely path beside the bushes somehow felt ordinary again.

But nobody in the family ever joked about ghosts afterward.
Because some experiences change people forever.

And sometimes…
The spiritual world is far more real than people think.

Years later, whenever you passed through that old market, you still avoided looking toward the empty corner beside the drainage.

Not because you feared seeing her again.
But because you never forgot the truth.

Darkness exists.

But so does light.

And no matter how terrifying the night becomes…

Light will always overcome it.

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Lucinda Victor/The Woman I'm Becoming
Lucinda Victor/The Woman I'm Becoming

Written by Lucinda Victor/The Woman I'm Becoming

Entrepreneur, Storyteller, and Woman of Faith. I share real stories about Growth, Purpose, Life, and Becoming the Woman God is shaping me to be.