English Ghost Stories

MY INVISIBLE MASTER

My name is Tracy. I am 35 years old today, the 7th of October 2003. I’ve decided to write to you today because I’m finally free, free from my invisible master. I’m not sure if writing this to you is a good idea, but I need to. I don’t want to die without anyone knowing my story.

After spending most of the morning shopping at the supermarket, my mother left me alone at the parking lot and went back into the store for something she had forgotten. While standing there and watching over the bags of groceries, I heard a deep commanding voice behind me.

“What are you doing here all alone, little girl?”

I turned around. Standing behind me was a tall stranger. His perfect black physique and shiny bald head instantly captivated me. Awestruck, I couldn’t move and couldn’t talk.

“I would like to be your friend. Can I?” he asked very politely.

I simply nodded and managed a weak smile. He stooped down to my level and kissed my lips. My face instantly felt hot, and I was at the verge of crying because my mother had always warned me against men touching me. She said it was wrong. But, I was too paralysed to even cry.

“I’m Albach, and you are Tracy,” he said rather confidently.

How does he know my name? I wondered.

“You know, Tracy, if you accept me as your friend, I will give you anything you want.”

There was nothing I wanted, but because I was so scared of him, I didn’t dare say no. Hence, our ‘friendship’ began.

When my mother returned, she didn’t even notice Albach standing beside me. I was astonished, but somehow knew he was only for my eyes.

Since that day, Albach had been my invisible friend. He would play with me, protect me from everyone else, and introduce me to my body. He often told me how beautiful my body was, and that I should love it as much as he did. I was confused and didn’t like talking about my body, but Albach knew how to make me submit. He just had to put his finger on my lips and say “Sssssh” and I would allow him to lead the conversation wherever he wanted.

As time went on, I became comfortable talking about my body with him. I treated it as a game. Albach never touched me in any funny way, though. He only kissed my lips and face.

Once, when I was eight years old, I had a classmate over at my house. His name was Tim. We had an art project to build a cardboard house. Suddenly, Albach appeared. He looked angry. He didn’t like me inviting a boy home, but he didn’t say anything then, he just stood there with a long face. I knew Tim couldn’t see Albach, so I didn’t make conversations with the black man either. Albach had always advised me against talking to him whenever other people were present. It would make me look crazy he’d say.

Soon, Albach went away and left us to our art project. Suddenly, I felt a strange desire to play with Tim the ‘game’ Albach had introduced to me. I started to ask Tim very personal questions about his body. Tim was uncomfortable at first, but like me, he too got used to it. As we talked about the differences in our bodies, I became curious and wanted to see the differences. Tim obviously became embarrassed. I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to persuade him to take off his shirt. It seemed Albach had imparted a powerful persuasion skill to me.

Being without our tops was strange at first. We giggled and didn’t dare look at one another. After some minutes of abashment, Tim put his shirt back on and was preparing to leave, but I persuaded him to stay on. I don’t know how it started, but somehow we ended up kissing. I felt very aroused and wanted to do more but didn’t know what else to do.

While we were kissing, Albach appeared and was glaring at Tim with blazing eyes. Suddenly, he lunged forward and grabbed Tim by the neck. He shook Tim so violently that I was afraid Tim’s neck would snap. Obviously, Tim didn’t feel anything, but I screamed hysterically for Albach to stop. My screams frightened Tim, so he jumped up and ran out of the room. My screams had also attracted my mother, who thought Tim had abused me because I was partially undressed. She ran after Tim and barred him from ever coming over again. I didn’t defend Tim because Albach warned me he would harm the eight-year-old boy if I did.

When my mother left the room, Albach insisted I closed the door. Then he pinned me down onto my bed and stared deeply into my eyes. I knew he wanted to punish me. He told me to strip down to nothing. I did. He told me to lie down. I did. Then, without another word, he pressed his lips onto mine. He was forceful, and it hurt, but I never made a sound because I thought I deserved the punishment for making him angry.

As he carried on kissing me, he mellowed. His lips started to feel soft and nice. I actually started to enjoy him kissing my neck and shoulders. I was confused, though. I thought I was being punished, but here he was giving me so much pleasure. For no reason, I started to cry. I felt I should cry when being punished. Seeing me in tears made the bald man stop. He stared down at me, his eyes filled with regret, and then he pulled away and vanished before my eyes.

In the next years, when Albach came, he came only to talk and be with me, he never touched me in any wrongful manner. The only thing we ever did was kiss, and I began to like it. We had become good friends, good friends that kissed.

When I was around twelve, my friends started to have boyfriends, but I remained alone. There was no way for me to have a boyfriend with Albach hovering over me all the time. It was ironic actually; my friends had boyfriends, but I was the only one among them who had ever seen a man totally without his clothes.

My black master and I played a lot of games with our naked selves. Some of them I liked; some I didn’t—I can’t give details here. Sometimes, I was scared thinking about the games. At times, I even felt guilty. I started to do a lot of reading in the school library about the human body and how babies were made. I learnt a lot more about human biology in the library than in class.

I always wondered what my invisible friend would play next. I knew one day we would play the ‘ultimate’ game, the game that would include opening my sacred door. I was very afraid to lose my virginity, but I was excited too.

I celebrated my sixteenth birthday party at my house. I had a lot of friends over, and we had a great party. When the party was over and everyone had left, I took a shower and lay on my bed. I was so exhausted that all I wanted to do was sleep. But then, a white smoke began to form at the top right corner of my room. It formed into a human figure, and I knew it would be a long night. I had no rights to protest against my black master’s needs; he owned me. He pressed himself against me and asked me if I was ready. I could do nothing but nod. Intuitively, I knew what he wanted and I relented. But, Albach surprised me, he smiled and vanished. I really thought he was going to deflower me. I was actually ready for it.

About six weeks later, on the 6th January of 1984, my invisible friend was different. He had raging lust in his eyes. He had always done things to me, things that were pale compared to what he had in mind that night. He demanded that I gave him ‘all’ of me. I was afraid yet excited. I had always enjoyed the things he did to me, and I expected the ultimate enjoyment that night.

Albach took me, he took every part of me, and he gave me every part of him. I was in burning pain at one moment and in hot excitement at the next. It was a rollercoaster ride in its truest form. He took me to the moon and back more than once and drowned me in ecstasy right through to my marrow. I was only sixteen yet I had become a ‘full’ woman. It was the best experience I’ve ever had.

Unfortunately, for me, Albach turned into a raging bull always lusting for my body. It reached a point where I just couldn’t cope with his demands anymore. I shivered at the thought of him appearing. I prayed that he would forget me, but he always came back. He had become my worst nightmare.

Before the night he tore my hymen, my master appeared once a week. During his visits, we would talk and kiss, and do a little caressing, but after the night we made full-blown love, he would appear and go straight into me, hard and rough. He also became very possessive and never let me out of his radar. I wasn’t free to talk to anyone without him eavesdropping. I didn’t even have my privacy in the toilet or in the shower. He would watch me, and sometimes, he would ‘take’ me right there in the shower. He touched me whenever he felt like it without regards to where I was or what I was doing. His surprise appearances were exciting at first, but I began to detest them later.

On one incident, I was in the tube[subway] when Albach suddenly appeared from behind and started to grope my body. I was shocked and uncomfortable at first, but the invisible man always knew how to arouse me. I closed my eyes and felt his touches intensify with every stroke. Before I knew it, I was moaning. I had totally forgotten where I was. When I opened my eyes, I was shocked to find people around me. Some were frowning in disgust and some stared with dropped jaws. Greatly mortified, I squeezed myself out of that car to the one behind and hopped off the train at the next station.

Discomfiting episodes like that were aplenty, and I had had enough. It had reached the state when the only pleasure was to have Albach leave. I was tired, very tired of the black jinn taking me whenever he pleased. But, no matter how much I resisted, I couldn’t stop him from appearing. I was stressed up to the point of hysterics. I even tried drinking a whole bottle of cough syrup to end my life. But, as you know by now, I was never alone, and always under his spell. So, even ending my life was impossible without him intercepting.

The only reason I managed to live through the hellish years with the black apparition was by focusing only on the good things he had done for me and to me—like the physical pleasures I enjoyed with him, the material things I had gotten from him, and the protection he gave me from bullies and rude people.

Along with other small gifts like watches, rings, and things of that nature, I had received a Ford Escort, which I had discussed with him during the times we would lean on one another and actually talk. He did not directly get me those things, but he certainly caused them to happen. I had mentioned to Albach about my rich uncle and how mean he was; he would never lend a helping hand. He had a huge piece of land and a beautiful house where he stayed all alone. He knew that my family was struggling with finances but never offered a penny to help. Albach must have done something to my uncle because only about two months later, my uncle was diagnosed with cancer of the liver. He died shortly after the diagnosis. My father was the only beneficiary to his estate. It could not have been a coincidence.

I asked Albach about my uncle’s premature death, but he only shook his head and pressed a finger gently on my lips.

“Don’t ask,” he whispered.

One time, my mother was seriously ill. She had caught some strange flu, and the doctors were unable to bring her fever down. If her fever had persisted, she would have suffered massive brain damage and died. I cried to Albach to do something. He listened patiently but said nothing. I cried desperately, thinking his silence meant he couldn’t help my mother. But, five hours later, the doctor came out and gave us the good news; my mother’s fever had subsided and her condition was stable. She was no longer in danger of dying. I was so happy. I knew it was Albach who had saved Mom, and I became more indebted to Albach.

So, my hell was a little better when I thought about the good side of having known the thin, bald jinn. Nevertheless, I wanted to be free. I didn’t want him ruling my life. I was tired of him popping up whenever he wanted. The constant anticipation of him appearing at any time was highly damaging to my psyche.

With Albach providing for me, I had not worked, but at 22, I realised I wanted to stand on my own. I started on a permanent job. I had had a bad day once and felt depressed, so I walked into a bar, sat at a corner table, and drank a whole bottle of wine all by myself. I felt really good afterwards and did the same thing often. Strangely, Albach stopped appearing. With a little thinking, I realised that my master must have hated alcohol. It turned out I was right.

In the corner of my room, a whitish glow began to appear. I was excited. I had not seen the black man for many months now, and I kind of missed our bedroom activity. I was ready for him, ready to have a good time. He appeared but remained standing in the corner.

“I haven’t seen you for a long time, Albach,” I said to the lone, dark figure.

There was no answer from him for some time. My anxiety slowly turned into fear.

Is he angry? Is he going to hurt me? I wondered.

“I do not like you drinking rotten blood,” the silhouetted figure said, finally.

Rotten blood? It took me a couple of seconds to understand he meant the red wine I had been drinking of late. Then he faded away and I was all alone again.

It was empowering to know I had the mechanism to keep him at a distance. I had a choice to make—drink often and risk becoming an alcoholic or having Albach in my life giving me worldly possessions and bodily pleasures. Even though I missed him and the fun, I detested not having control over my life, so I chose the earlier.

So, I drank, and I have been drinking since the first visit to the bar. Occasionally, I stopped for a day or two just to see if the jinn would visit me. I thought I felt something in the air but no, he didn’t appear. That was the longest I could go without drinking, unfortunately. I had become addicted to alcohol without realising. Now, I cannot go a day without at least one-third a bottle of wine.

Yes, I’ve done it! I’ve freed myself from the slave master, but at what cost. I’m an alcoholic who may not have long to live. Some people may think I’m a psychotic who hears and sees things that are not there, but I don’t care. To me, Albach is real, very real.

Tracy Zimbuwa, 35