Family Secret: Ghost Of An Undead Uncle

My grandparents had two children, my mother and her junior brother, my uncle, Quincy. The age gap between my mom and uncle is quite wide, nineteen years. After my grandparents had my mom, conception became difficult and they almost gave up having another child. But after so many years, Quincy blessed them with his presence, and they spoiled him rotten!

Quincy and I were more brothers than uncle and nephew. He taught me how to hunt crab from our village river, how to set fish and bird traps. He kicked soccer ball with me most afternoons after school, and he showed me how to aim stones at lizards with precision. When he died, I was ten and he was twenty. He was my protector on the playground, I adored him to no end, when he died, my heart was broken.

Twenty years ago, Quincy and his friends had found themselves in a rather sticky situation. Quincy was home from the university where he was studying Mathematics and Computer Science, most of his friends were home too. They had too much time on their hands, and as the saying goes, the devil finds work for idle hands.

A young man had apparently disrespected the girlfriend one of his friends and ‘bro code’ required that they teach this guy a lesson.

Four friends cornered the young man and beat him black and blue.The next morning the young man was dead. Investigators and prosecutors began building a case. My grandfather was quite influential, he was a successful timber merchant and tried to quench the fire, but the deceased man’s family were out to draw blood and so they exerted pressure in any means possible to get justice for their son. A few days before charges were filed, the head of police visited my grandfather at night, when he left the mood in the house was sombre and tense.

The next day, Quincy wore bright orange shorts and a blue shirt with Hawaii boldly written at the back, he said he was going for a swim in the river.I remember that day like yesterday, I wanted to so badly go with him but my mother will have none of it. So Quincy went without me, he was supposedly meeting his friends at the river, he never came back. That evening, my parents and grandparents looked for him everywhere to no avail. I remember the worry and tears, and oh how I prayed for his safe return. He did not return.

A few days after he went missing, Quincy’s friends were arrested and charged with murder. A warrant was issued for Quincy. The trial began, weeks passed and Quincy was found in the deepest part of the river, they said his body was tangled in an abandoned fishing net. He was so decomposed, the only identifying traits were his orange shorts and Hawaii shirt.

Misskorang, I was there when pall bearers carried his remains away to be buried. Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, he was given a befitting burial. My grandmother mourned her beloved son for years, and so did my mother.

Weeks later three friends were given varied prison sentences for murder, according to their participation in the beatings that killed the young man.

And so for twenty years Quincy rested in peace. I never even saw his ghost in my dream. Until I met him three months ago.

My grandfather has prostrate cancer. He has refused invasive treatment and has rather opted to spend his time at home with family, some days are good, others not so much.

I was summoned three months ago to go see my grandfather. He wasn’t doing well and he wanted to see me, my mother told me. I took a week off work and drove four hours to go see one of my favorite people on earth. When got to his house, my parents were waiting to escort me to my grandfather. “Wait a minute, since when do I need an escort to see him?” I asked. My mom’s response was, “you’ll understand soon enough.”

And understand I did. It was the shock of the ghost of the undead they were protecting me from.

My grandfather beckoned me to his bed. Seated with his back to me was a man, dreadlocked and wearing a suit. When I got closer he turned and smiled at me, “Boy my boy!,” he said.

My knees buckled. But my father was ready, he held me up, “Comport yourself,” he shouted.

Cold water splashed on my face, mom had doused me with water!

“Quincy?” I managed to say weakly. He stood up and help my shoulders. It was him alright, charming as ever, confident and smiling.

“Its me boy, I am not dead, I did not die!”

When I was finally able to get myself together, I looked in their faces; grandfather, grandmother, my parents. What the actual hell? So whose dead body was that?

Turns out you can buy anything if you have enough money to pay the price, including information from the police, a dead body and and a brand new life in Asia.

Misskorang, you think you know your family, until they spring a ghost on you that is. I lost count how many times my grandfather, a leader in the church used his son’s death in sermons, all the while taking trips to visit him.

So this is a ghost story but not quite! So yeah I have been tasked with keeping my family’s secret, that is, my dead uncle is not dead. And also to take the reins for my grandfather and make sure Quincy is connected physically to the family through my visits. Quincy is a ghost, well sort of, his undead ghost lives in Asia and I will be visiting him soon, in the supposed grave.