RED LAUGHTER

​I usually find it quite difficult to tell stories. The thought of what I would write, how I would tell it and how, if so, would the proposed reader perceive my delivery forces the whole concept to appear herculean to me. So at the end of the day, I withdraw, and the stories stay buried in my head, deeper with time, till only the carcass remains, void of the actual flesh that held the bones of the stories together.
​This time though, something changed. An event that occurred completely randomly forced me to recall an experience that had befallen upon me a long time ago. When I was still a child.
​It is believed that the majority of the memories we have of our childhood have somehow been influenced by the over-active imaginations we developed at that time, thereby tainting our memories, and watering down their essence.
​But in this case, regardless of how long it has been, this memory has somehow refused to wither, hence my decision to document it as vividly as I remember it today, in the hope that one day, maybe in the eventuality of my forgetfulness of it, this short script will do well to remind me of the strangest event I witnessed in my entire childhood. And oddly enough, in my entire life.
​I should state my name, but I don't see its significance to the tale, so I would rather skip that part. And dive right into the tale itself.
​I remember the night quite clearly. It was bright, really bright, because of the large moon. But somehow, the brightness still managed to make silhouettes of all the shapes on the ground, owing greatly to the neigbourhood blackout that was quite frequent in the city at the time.
​My brother and I hurried back home as fast as we could. Throwing scared glances behind us to check if anyone was following us.
​It wasn't that it was quite late in the night. In fact, it was just a little past eight and the darkness was just setting in fully. But at that age, fear still had a strong hold on most children and we weren't exceptions. This might beg the question of where we were coming from at that time of the night if we were so scared of the dark.
​You see, I come from a religious family. One of those that seemed to believe miracles and prayers have some sort of magic attributes that can make everything better.
​Do not get me wrong. I for one am a very Godly man,  but being religious is another thing. I happen to believe that religion is a major factor in the most of the world's problems today.
​In avoidance of digression, religion happened to be the reason for our late wandering that night.
​We had just finished a community prayer session. One which our mother ensured we all partook in.
​I remember vividly being scared throughout the entirety of the session. For the preacher kept reiterating that danger was lurking around us. And that was why we were there. That the more we fought with the sword of God, the farther evil will be from us.
​I wasn't sure how that would work out, but I said the words none-the-less. Mostly because I was standing beside my parents and my mother had just recently delivered a knock on the top of my brother's head for being quiet during prayers. And I wasn't going to be her next victim.
​As usual, after the  prayer session she had stayed behind to have a private prayer session with the preacher. One she always managed to drag my father to.
​So we decided to go ahead of her. Grabbing the house keys, we skedaddled home to await their return.
​Little did we know we were about to behold evil in one of its truest forms.
​We usually passed through the back when we expected to get home late. I have never really understood why we did that. But it was something my father always insisted on.
​Anyway, we finally made it home, and made our way to the back of the house.
​Unfortunately for us, the light from the moon was obstructed by the storied building itself throwing the backyard into utter darkness.
​We could barely make our way, so we banked on experience to guide us. Cursing ourselves for not borrowing the torchlight from our father before we left.
​We approached the staircase leading to our flat and suddenly in the hot night air, I felt a sudden chill cool air run through me. You need to understand it. It didn't blow around me. The air around me didn't suddenly turn cold. It was still hot. Just that for a minute, a chill ran at me, more explicitly, I would say it ran straight at me then went into me and ran straight out my back.
​"Did you feel that?" My brother asked.
​It took me a few seconds to answer.
​"You felt it too?" was my response.
He nodded. It was later revealed to me by my brother, in his own case, he didn't feel the chill run through him; he merely felt a cold wind surround the air for a very brief moment.
You have to understand that at that point, we were more scared than we were before.
​So we quickened our pace towards the bottom of the staircase, noticing something else that was crazy weird. The silence. The house contained four flats that housed four big families. Which meant that at every point, every minute, some sort of sound could be heard from one or more of the flats.
But, strangely enough, at that moment there was none, not even the night crickets chirping. Even the buzzing generator from Old man Clement's compound which shared a fence with ours had suddenly gone silent, even while it was evident that it was still in operation.
​By the time we got to the bottom of the long staircase that lead to our back door, we were already running. I had no idea what was running through my brother's mind at the time, but for me, all I wanted was to get into our house, shut the door, light every candle I could find and hide under a huge blanket till my parents got home.
​And then as if by some sort of signal, we stopped short.
​Before us, descending from the staircase was an apparition. Completely black, tall, like a man. He walked with a slight limp or so we thought. But as we stood transfixed, watching it uncontrollably, it became apparent that he wasn't limping for that would require walking. He was most likely as much as we could guess gliding down the staircase.
​It appeared he wore a black hat, black jacket and black pants. Or it could just appear black owing to the darkness.
​"Am not the only one seeing him, am I?" my brother asked, fear registered in his query.
​"You are seeing it, too?"
​For some reason my brother assumed saluting this strange visitor exiting our house would help the situation.
​"Good evening sir", he offered
​I repeated the greeting, hoping it would be a good idea.
But there was no response. Only gliding, ever so slowly
​I strained my eyes to see if there was any recognition I could derive but his entire being was shrouded in the darkness, like they were one and the same.
​As he got closer, we started moving backward still offering our greetings. In our heart, he was probably a burglar that had broken into our apartment since we were the only ones leaving in the top floor of that section. And he was trying to escape quietly until we thwarted his plans.
​But when he was almost an arm's length of us, we realized painfully that he indeed wasn't a burglar. He wasn't even human.
​Now, this is where it gets interesting.
​He suddenly stopped in front of us. Watching us, it seemed, as we returned to our still position, afraid to move.
​And then, very unexpectedly, his face split into two, revealing a reddish glow which was unmistakably fire. It was as if, he had opened an unusually large mouth that seemed to cover the entirety of his face. And the inside was burning and out came a very evil sound. It felt like he was laughing but to me, it was the most painful, the ugliest, and the scariest sound I have ever heard.
​I couldn't take it anymore, I spun around and made for the front entrance. I was almost halfway when I turned and saw my brother standing there screaming at the top of his lungs as this evil drew closer to him. I picked a stone close by and threw it at the apparition. The stone flew straight through him shattering a pipe that ran below the stairs. I ran back and dragged my brother from his trance and we both ran like hell not looking back to the front entrance. Where luckily enough our parents were just coming in heading for the back entrance.
​We started screaming and talking all excitedly at once. Until, my father in his forceful voice yelled for us to be quiet. Our ruckus seemed to have alerted a few of the neigbours as they slowly started to come out from their houses.
​It took about thirty minutes to calm us down and in that time, I realized I had wet my pants. I didn't even know when it happened.
​It took longer for my brother to speak.
​But when he did, our stories matched, word for word.
I had felt I had imagined the whole experience. But his corroboration which was supposed to be comforting, somehow made everything worse. Because it meant, this evil wasn't a mere nightmare, it had truly been there. It was real.
​The men among the neighbors lead by my father went to the backyard equipped with clubs and heavy duty lamps, determined to catch the apparition. It was clear to us that no one believed our story even as convincing as we had been narrating the ordeal.
​As the  men dispersed, the women sat debating the authenticity of our stories in hush whispers. For everyone claimed they heard no sound. No strange laughter from any demon. Neither did they hear the scream from my brother.
​My father returned a few minutes later, and told us, they saw no one. Nothing at all. no sign of anyone.
​And then, Mr.  Andrew, the nosy neighbour pointed out the broken pipe which happened to be leading to his house.
​My father mumbled something about calling a plumber the next day.
​One by one, everyone dispersed to their various homes, leaving behind fake words of advice for us. Each contemplating in their heart the event of the night, and most importantly, its credibility.
​In mine, I kept imagining the events as they played in my head.
​When we retired to our room, I watched my brother stare at the ceiling, his back straight on his bed.
​"Are you okay?" I asked quietly
​He looked over at me with ice cold eyes.
​"You saw it too, right?" He asked, fearfully.
​I nodded. And watched him face the ceiling again.
​That was actually the last time he ever spoke of that night to me.
​Although, it took me a while to sleep, but I eventually did.
​When we woke up the next morning, he seemed like he awakened from a nightmare. And from later days I got to believe he convinced himself that that was what it was. A nightmare.
​My mother changed the prayer point that morning to that of protection against evil.
​As for me, I still find it hard to get that evil laugh out of my head.
​Sometimes at night, when I'm alone in the dark, I still hear the laugh.
​To this day, I never sleep without the lights on.
​I always fear he would return to complete what he might have started that night.