Hemingway's curse by Alexandra Pereira - A short story

We were only two pairs of hours away from the funeral, I had to change
my clothes not to cause any strangeness in the people who would be
present then and again the Kilimanjaro showed up as waving in my window’s
frozen frame. I remember thinking: «Gosh, now how am I going to
explain the visitors that the Kilimanjaro appeared at my doorstep?
This house is so livened up that there doesn’t seem to be a wake going
on anymore, but a party: damn, have we arrived to Paris already?!», but
my fears were revealed baseless because at the hour agreed the funerary
gentlemen and the mourning doleful ones arrived at my place, and
everything was looking normal by that time. I say “was looking” because I
sighted the ghost again during the funeral jumping between two neighboring
gris gravestones and, to be frank, strange things have been going
on with that tomb in the last two months, which I will not precise here
because of the respect due to the memory of my dead mother.
They have been the days, since then and general rule, if not uneasy at
least extremely frazzling to me. Strange phenomenons begun to occur
with the greatest regularity, so bizarre events that before the death of my
mother they would have been completely unthinkable or shocking and
that – if it wasn’t for the assiduous presence of the ghost crying with his
elbows supported on my secretary during the nocturnal discrete solitude
– they would be enough for me to put in doubt my own mental health.
The case had turned, however, in such a way that the paternal spook,
that misanthrope spectre of person, desired to see my promise fulfilled
with the hugest possible hurry so that he could then rest in peace – therefore,
he blackmailed me with all kinds of freakish occurrences and a fertile
sadness pledged in wetting my work papers, if possible turning them
forever useless. This irritated me deeply. When I got his intentions, the
promise dilemma bursted my nerves down, I had to go to the doctor and
start taking tranquilizers; I did not resolve the insomnia with herbal teas,
however the sedatives attenuated it considerably, in spite of my hands
lost of firmness.
But the ghost continued on his footpath, implacable as never before:
or there were deer scalps embalmed and hung appearing over the fire-