Kebri after midnight: ghost hunt vibes
i just stepped off the rickety bus and the air felt like a low hum of distant drums. the sky was a muted teal, and i could swear i heard a faint *whispers echo from the old market down the alley. i just checked and it's...a crisp breeze there right now, hope you like that kind of thing. the temperature hovers around 18.5°c, feels like 17.5°, perfect for a midnight investigation.
here’s a quick peek at the coordinates:
i wandering through the café on spirit lane i saw a flicker of light that made the clock tower glow like a lantern for the dead. the walls are covered in graffiti that seems to shift when you’re not looking, and the locals swear they’ve seen orbs drifting near the market after dusk.
someone told me that the old market used to be a gathering spot for secret societies, and the echo of their chants can still be felt on windy evenings. I heard that the EMF meter spikes near the clock tower when the moon is full, so keep your gear handy.
if you get restless, the buzzing cafés of Dire Dawa are a short drive away, and they say the night market there sells phantom snacks that taste like memories.
check out the local board for night tours at Nightwatch Forum and see what the TripAdvisor reviews say about the haunted alleys, or peek at Yelp for the best spot to grab a midnight espresso. the vibe here is ghostly but oddly comforting, like a warm blanket of static.
i’m jotting down these thoughts on a battered notebook, the pages fluttering like restless spirits. the city’s rhythm is a mix of ancient chants and modern beats, and every corner feels like a story waiting to be whispered.
the streetlights flicker in patterns that remind me of Morse code, maybe the city is trying to send a message. i spent the night chasing faint EMF readings near the old well, and every time the needle jumped i felt a chill run down my spine. the next morning i met a street vendor who swore he could see the residual energy of old battles, and he offered me a cup of coffee that tasted like copper. i laughed, but the taste lingered, and i swear i heard a faint whispers in the steam.
i ventured into the abandoned train station at the edge of town, where the platform echoes with phantom footfalls. the rusted rails vibrate whenever a ghostly breeze passes, and the old ticket booth still displays a price tag that reads free entry for those who can hear the past. i tried to sit on the cold bench, but the wood creaked like a warning, and a cold hand brushed my shoulder, leaving a faint imprint of frost that vanished as quickly as a breath.
i’ve started a little ritual of leaving a tiny chalk drawing of a crescent moon on the ground near the clock tower* each night, hoping it will guide any wandering spirits back to their rest. the locals say it works, and sometimes in the morning the chalk is gone, replaced by a fresh footprint that leads toward the old well. maybe the city is alive, breathing in cycles of light and shadow.
i returned with a handheld recorder, hoping to capture EVPs. the device picked up a low hum that sounded like distant chanting, and every time i said hello the recorder played back a reversed phrase that resembled the word stay. i’m not sure if it was a glitch or a message from the other side, but i felt a strange kinship with the place.
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