TALES OF THE ATLANTIC

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

After his invisible double returned from the silvery orb, Timothy downed a small portion of Remy Martin, before changing to his pyjamas. The last thing he saw before switching off the bedside lights was a portrait of the goddess in a black suit, holding a large wreath of flowers beside a tombstone in a cemetery, looking extremely happy.

“Whoever you want to kill, you’re free to as far as it isn’t me…sweet dreams your utmost perfection.” He muttered and went to sleep.

For the next seven days, I began to have one particular type of dream and I knew the goddess had commenced ‘round three.’

Whenever I slept every night, I always dreamt of being in a graveyard, which had twenty-one graves with twenty-one gravestones. I walked around the graves for a minute or two before entering into a freshly dug grave, close to the twenty-first one.

I called Pastor Alozie from a commercial call centre to tell him of this new development. I was shocked to my marrow when he slowly narrated the dream and i