By Melekwe Anthony

Black, the shadow that sings.

Dizzy and dreamy, I wake up six minutes past midnight

to a crackling at my window. Shapeless figures hovering

in the moonlight, Humming ‘Birds of Winter Crawl’. I pull the

blanket to my freezing abouts. This is not a dream.

I know that song. My dead grandmother’s voice. Careful taps at the glass

And I haste for the night light. Out of power.

The shadows are floating closer and becoming manlike. Ears, neck and what

looks like a sharpened pencil of a head. I try calling Daddy! But nothing sounds.

No a word from my mouth despite my screaming. They are

touching my window now. I can hear them. I must be seeing them too

because an arm slowly manifests from the dark shapes. Wrinkles and freckles,

It stretches for my bed. For me.

This is not Grandma.

(Bio:Melekwe Anthony is a poet, public speaker and a leadership coach. He hails from Lagos, Nigeria and is currently studying journalism at University of Nigeria. Anthony began his writing career in 2018 and since then, he has authored poems featured in different magazines across three continents. Aside from writing, Melekwe is currently a WeVoi ambassador and student union executive. He is a communicator all round, inspiring his audience through writing and speaking.)

Published by .

Publishing Editor for The Yard: Crime Blog.

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