“Hey Fofana, can I tell you a story?” Fofana replied, “Of course.”
“Okay, let’s begin. It’s 1940, and I’m a Jewish person in Germany. I found a plan to escape, and it worked. But in Poland, I had no home in Poland and i needed to find a place..
I met a charitable man there. He gave me a good offer and said he’d give me a house in exchange for collecting a bag of sheets. I did not believe him at first, but when he showed me the house, I was convinced. After collecting the sheets, I went to the place where I was supposed to leave them and left them there. There was a key there. I took it and went home. What I thought was true, this was the key to the house.
When I entered the house, everything was normal, or I thought so. I was safe now, thanks to the man who gave me the house, but that was until I found that book in the house. It was the book by my favorite author. It was strange because I’d never seen this book before, but I knew all his works by heart. I opened the book and started to read it, and it was the best book I had ever seen in my life.
On page 120, I found a handwritten phone number. After a while, this number called me on my phone. I started to get scared. I threw the book and my phone away on the floor. The number kept calling, even my home phone. I didn’t know what to do.
Fofana interrupted, ‘Wait a minute. If this happened a long time ago, how do you still deal with it?’
I replied, ‘Why are you interrupting? It’s just a story. I thought I’d tell a spooky one since we’re in the camp.’