Nuzo Onoh is an award-winning Nigerian-British writer of Igbo descent. She is a pioneer of the African horror literary genre. Hailed as the "Queen of African Horror", Nuzo's writing showcases both the beautiful and horrific in the African culture within fictitious narratives. Nuzo's works have featured in numerous magazines and anthologies, as well as in academic studies. She has given talks and lectures about African Horror, including at the prestigious Miskatonic Institute of Horror Studies, London. She is a Bram Stoker Lifetime Achievement Award recipient. Nuzo holds a Law degree and Masters degree in Writing, both from Warwick University, England. She is a certified Civil Funeral Celebrant, licensed to conduct non-religious burial services. An avid musician with an addiction to JungYup and K-indie, Nuzo plays both the guitar and piano, and holds an NVQ in Digital Music Production. She resides in the West Midlands, United Kingdom.

The Reluctant Dead by Nuzo Onoh

A scorned wife returns to wreak a terrible vengeance on the husband and mistress who caused her untimely death.

A morgue assistant fails to follow the strange night-time rules of the mortuary and gets himself "a follower", the restless spirit of a murdered women.

The ghost of a young boy returns to his school to complete his classes, tragically cut short by the cruel fists of death!

The Reluctant Dead is a unique collection of six spine-chilling ghost stories from deepest Africa. Each tale is richly laced with African folklore and traditions and superbly evokes the sights, smells and sounds of the continent. Be warned! These stories will leave you glancing over your shoulders for a very long time!

 

REVIEWS

  • "The skillfully crafted stories showcase Igbo culture without lecturing the reader, and make for thrilling reading. Explore the deepest lands of Africa in this horror whirlwind of a book – if you dare."

    – American Express Essentials

  • "Each of the six stories in this single author collection is richly laced with African folklore and the traditions...My favorite story in Reluctant was "The Night Flyer". The Bloodman featured in this tale is the most disturbing characterization in the collection and Onoh does a good job of hiding whether he is a good or evil character."

    – Hellnotes

  • "If you like you fiction to be smart and scary, this is definitely the book for you. If you are a fan of good fiction, then this is the book for you. I cannot wait to see what Onoh has in store for readers in the future."

    – Examiner.com
 

BOOK PREVIEW

Excerpt

He is looking into the face of a man lying underneath a palm-tree, a young man he instantly recognises as the son of the Blood-man. It is the same son that had assisted in the selling of his own sister and the murder of his stepmother. Obinna! That is the name the Blood-man had called him that evil afternoon of betrayal and murder. But the young man is now dead, his eyes staring vacantly at the bent fronds of the palm-tree above. His head is a bloody pulp and white blood-spattered matter ooze out of his smashed skull. Not far from the dead man are a broken rope and a smashed gourde. Ikem smells, even before he sees the damp soil by the gourde. Palm-wine. He guesses Obinna must have fallen from the palm-tree while tapping for palm-wine. He glances up at the tree. It is a very long fall.

By the side of the dead youth is the Blood-man. His face is a picture of shock and anguish as he stares at the bloody corpse of his first son and heir. He is holding the dead boy, rocking, moaning. His eyes are swollen and bloodshot. His body is covered in brown dust and sweat. Ikem hears the women of the hamlet wailing, pulling their hair. The men beat their chests in anger at the senseless death of a young man in the prime of his life.

In the midst of the keening, he hears a sound that sends the cold chill of pure terror down his spine. He hears the gleeful cackle of a female, high-pitched and triumphant. It is coming somewhere overhead, atop the palm-tree.

He lifts his head to the tree and his heart almost stops. His skin breaks out in terror-bumps. Cold sweat dampens his body and he struggles to breath. He is trembling so violently he fears he will collapse in a faint. He wants to faint…oh Jesus! He wants to faint so he doesn't see the horror above the palm-tree.

Perched on the lowest frond like a bird of prey is Mama's twin, her face as bloodied and broken as it had been the day the Blood-man murdered her. But death has given her a visage that is as appalling as it is truly terrible. Her skin is an ashy hue, her barred teeth, sharp and pointy beneath blood-coated lips. Death has lengthened her hair into wild knots which fail to cover the deep bloody gash in her head. Hard talon-tipped hands grasp the branches like eagle claws, shaking the fronds with manic glee. Her thighs are spread wide, obscene and terrible. Bloody piss gushes from her body, drenching the corpse underneath the palm-tree.

Without warning, her blood-shot gaze zeroes into his eyes. They are piercing, fierce and furious. Ikem gasps, stumbling back and falling on his buttocks. He feels the sharp sting of pain as he bruises his palm on the rough sandy soil. His heart thuds so wildly he thinks he will die. Oh Jesus! Oluwa o! He has seen a ghost…real ghost…and she has seen him too! Jesus! Egbawa o! Help! Where is Mama? Where is Papa?

He hears a sudden shout and sees the Blood-man on his feet, stumbling backwards, away from his son's corpse. He is pointing to the top of the Palm-tree, his eyes terror-wide. His body is trembling as violently as the palm fronds overhead.

'It's her! Oh, my ancestors save me! It's her!' The Blood-man is almost incoherent as he struggles to free himself from his kinsmen. They follow his pointing finger, but see nothing save for the waving fronds thrashing violently in the still noon-day air. They find nothing amiss in the strange behaviour of the fronds. The tree has taken the life of the boy after all. It is only normal that nature should weep for the untimely death of a strong young man.

They try to drag the Blood-man away from the tragic scene, urging him to take heart, to be a man and not allow himself to be overwhelmed by grief. The Blood-man doesn't resist. He is suddenly drained by terror, his massive frame, a shivering lump. But even as they draw him away, Ikem hears the terrible and malicious cackle follow them, mocking the Blood-man.

'This is only the beginning, Ezeoha Ani,' she screeches, her voice a piercing hollowness that reverberates in his head. 'I told you your house will be barren of sons for all eternity. Be prepared, dear husband. For you shall yet meet me again as you dig another grave for another of your precious sons. Their blood shall be on your head alone, for you have sealed their doom with your evil. Go now and bury your first son, but make sure you dig enough graves for your other sons and their sons' sons too.'

With another loud cackle, the ghost vanishes, leaving Ikem as stunned and petrified as the Blood-man.