"Anytime I pull up my clothes to bathe inside our general bathroom, I suddenly feel someone touchlng my bòxers from behind, but as soon as I open my eyes, I don't see anybody there except the red towel of our landlord. But I didn't take it seriously. Even when Chizaram, the lady that occupied room number four, ran out of the bathroom, wailing that she felt someone touch her while she was bathing, nobody saw it as a big deal. I forced myself into believing it was mere hallucination, perhaps a product of our imaginations. But the following day, when I went to the bathroom to take my bath, while I was busy scrubbing my head with sponge and soap, and my eyes were tightly shut, then I felt a gentle breath on my shoulder. Shortly after, I felt a touch; a real touch on my left hand. It was slow and deliberate. I screamed immediately, trying to open my eyes but the soapy water entered. “Jesus!"" My scream grew louder. It felt like I was in a horror movie without the protagonist to save me. My heart was pounding so hard against my chest. And due to the effect of the soup in my eyes, I started feeling the peppery sensation. My hands and legs were trembling. The moment I managed to locate the position of the water, I swiftly rinsed off the soap from my face, and turned back. But there was nobody. The only thing I saw was still our landlord's red towel. And for the first time since this whole thing started, I became afraid. I hastily wore back my clothes and picked up my soap. There was a little amount of water remaining inside the bucket, so I didn't bother to carry it. I poured everything on the floor and ran to my room. After that day, one by one, other neighbours started encountering this same experience. And there was nothing different about their complaints. Just like the two times it happened to me, and also like it transpired with Chizaram, they all said one thing: That someone always touches them from behind anytime they visit that bathroom, whether to pee, poo or bathe. When the occurrence became too scary and almost unbearable, we all gathered ourselves one evening and held a meeting. “I don't know o, but something tells me our landlord is responsible."" Virginia had stated firmly. She was a corper, the second most beautiful lady we had in that compound. The moment she said, the whole place went into an uproar. ""I knew it.” A voice hollered. ""That man is serving juju.” I heard another person mutter beside me. When it pivoted, it was Chizaram. She blushed when she caught my glimpse, but I quickly looked away, pretending like I didn't notice. ""I said it.” ""I saw it in my dream.” While everybody were just talking randomly, the place suddenly became silent when one of the ladies brought up a suggestion. ""Let's burn the red towel.” She said, calmly. ""Burn which towel?” A fierce and coarse voice snapped at once. But just then, our attention deviated; our gaze shifted to the left. We all were shocked to see him coming from the bathroom, holding the red towel. To be continued… THE HAND THAT T0UCHES MY BODY ANYTIME I BATH£ INSIDE THE GENERAL TOILET—EPISODE 2 Chapter 3 will drop any time from now. To receive notification when I drop it, don't hesitate hit

 I moved into the compound at the beginning of the rainy season, when the city smelled of wet dust and old concrete. The place was cheap, crowded, and perfect for someone trying to survive.

Eight small rooms faced a narrow courtyard where tenants cooked, washed clothes, and argued about electricity bills every evening.

At the back of the compound stood the general bathroom, a single concrete structure with a metal door that never closed properly.

Everyone shared it.

Students, traders, apprentices, and office workers used that bathroom every day.

Despite its poor condition, we tolerated it because the rent was affordable and the landlord rarely disturbed us.

The landlord, Mr. Okeke, lived in the front building near the gate.

He was a tall man with quiet movements and a face that rarely showed emotion.

He spoke little but observed everything.

One strange thing about him was the red towel he always hung beside the bathroom.
Every morning it appeared there.

Every evening it was still there.No one ever saw him wash it, yet it never disappeared.

The towel looked old, thick, and strangely heavy when wind pushed against it.

The first time something unusual happened was early on a Tuesday morning.
I had woken up late and rushed to the bathroom before leaving for work.

The compound was quiet because most tenants had already gone out.

Inside the bathroom, I hung my clothes on the wall hook and began bathing quickly
Cold water splashed over my shoulders as I scrubbed my body.

Everything seemed normal until the moment I lifted my clothes to change.

That was when I felt it.

A gentle brush against the back of my boxers.
The touch was light but unmistakable.
It felt like fingers briefly touching fabric.

Startled, I turned around immediately.

Nobody stood behind me.

The small bathroom was empty.

Water dripped from the tap, echoing softly inside the cement walls.

Outside the door, I could see the red towel hanging quietly.
I stared at it for a moment before shaking my head.It must have been imagination.

Perhaps the cold water had made my skin sensitive.

I finished bathing quickly and left for work.

By afternoon I had already forgotten the strange sensation.
Later that evening, however, something happened that reminded me again.

Chizaram from room four suddenly ran out of the bathroom screaming.

Her hair was soaked and soap covered her arms.

“I felt someone touch me!” she cried loudly.

Tenants gathered around her immediately.

“What do you mean someone touched you?” Virginia asked.

Chizaram looked terrified.

“While I was bathing, someone touched my back.”

“Did you see anyone?” someone asked.

“No,” she replied nervously.

“The bathroom was empty.”

Some tenants laughed, assuming she had panicked over something small.
Others said perhaps a lizard had fallen on her.

Eventually the matter faded and everyone returned to their rooms.

But the memory of my own experience quietly returned.

Still, I forced myself to believe it was coincidence.

The next morning I woke earlier than usual.
I decided to bathe again before going to work.

Inside the bathroom the air smelled slightly damp.

I poured water into the bucket and began washing my hair.

My eyes were closed tightly as soap covered my head.

That was when I felt something strange again.A soft breath touched my shoulder.It was warm.

Too warm to be wind.

Before I could react, I felt a slow deliberate touch on my left hand.

This time the sensation was unmistakable.

Someone was touching me.

I screamed immediately.Soap entered my eyes and burned fiercely.

“Jesus!” I shouted.

My heart pounded violently.

My legs trembled as panic filled my chest.

I could barely see because of the soap.

My hands searched blindly for the bucket.

When I finally rinsed my eyes and turned around, the bathroom was empty.

Nothing moved.

Only the red towel outside the door hung quietly.

Fear slowly crept into my mind.

I dressed quickly and rushed back to my room.

For the rest of the day I felt uneasy.

Every time I remembered that touch, my skin crawled.

By evening another tenant reported something similar.

A mechanic living in room six said someone brushed his waist while he urinated.

He turned around immediately but saw nobody.

At first we thought it was coincidence.

But the next day another complaint surfaced.

Then another.

Within a week nearly half the tenants had experienced the same thing.

The story was always identical.

A touch from behind.

A breath near the shoulder.

An empty bathroom.

And the red towel hanging nearby.

Fear slowly spread through the compound.

Tenants stopped bathing late at night.

Some refused to enter the bathroom alone.

Conversations around the courtyard became filled with whispers.

Everyone began suspecting something.Finally one evening we decided to hold a meeting.Plastic chairs formed a circle in the courtyard.

The dim light from a single bulb cast long shadows against the walls.

Virginia spoke first.

“I believe our landlord is responsible,” she said confidently.

Her statement shocked everyone.

“What do you mean?” someone asked.

“He always keeps that red towel near the bathroom,” Virginia explained.

“And nobody knows why.”

Chizaram nodded slowly.

“I once dreamed that towel moved by itself.”

Another tenant spoke nervously.

“I heard he practices juju.”

Voices rose everywhere.

Fear mixed with rumors and imagination.

Then suddenly one quiet lady raised a suggestion.

“Let us burn the red towel,” she said calmly.

Silence fell instantly.

Everyone looked at each other uncertainly.

Before anyone could answer, a rough voice interrupted us.

“Burn which towel?”

We turned toward the corridor.

Our landlord stood there.

Mr. Okeke walked slowly from the direction of the bathroom.In his hand he held the red towel.

His expression was calm but unreadable.

Water dripped slowly from the cloth.

He looked at our circle of chairs quietly.

“So this is what you people discuss in my compound,” he said.

Nobody replied.

The air felt heavy.

Then something strange happened.

As the wind moved through the corridor, the red towel shifted slightly in his hand.

For a moment it looked almost alive.

Mr. Okeke’s eyes slowly moved across our faces.

“Fear is a powerful thing,” he said quietly.

“Sometimes what you fear becomes what you see.”

He dropped the towel onto a chair beside him.

The cloth fell heavily.

And for a moment something moved beneath it.

Everyone gasped softly.

Mr. Okeke smiled faintly.

“You see?” he whispered.

“Your minds are already creating ghosts.”

But none of us were laughing.

Because deep inside we all remembered the same thing.

The touch.

The breath.

The invisible presence inside that bathroom.

And now the red towel lying quietly on the chair.

For the first time since the incidents began, a terrible thought entered my