Congratulations !
You have been awarded points.
Thank you for !
- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Horror / Scary
- Published: 08/28/2022
MOTHER OF THE DOME
Adult, M, from Kampala, UgandaMOTHER OF THE DOME
Four of Dr. Ochieng's children had a common mild autism spectrum disorder—they behaved a little scary, —a little creepy, —and, as though their souls were at a rift; except for the youngest son, Oditi.
"Don't talk to me like that. No. No excuses. Yes. I want you here before 05:30," Dr. Ochieng said in a raspy voice and dropped the call.
Dr. Ochieng at sixty-nine was thin and tall and quiet and reserved—on the sly with menacing eyes like the eye of a midnight storm. His face had withered away into a shadow of a weary man. His fingers were long, —thin, hard, and mildly crooked, —wilted crump of flesh. He acted weird, —suspicious, he behaved as though his sane mind had departed him—substituted with an obsession with protecting his children from the unseen cruelty of the malevolent man. His obsession became so strong that people looked at him with dread.
Dr. Ochieng knew people regarded him with contempt, he knew they whispered his not being right in the head with gluttonous insidiousness, but none dared to tell him; on his face, save his wife Othambo. "I can't waste my time on you, your head isn't right." She would say at least twice every day.
"It's my fault that I married a young lady like you." He would say quietly staring at the ground, masking his box of grief and misfortune—tears in his old sunken eyes, but that wasn't important, though painful… What counted for him was the safety of his children… the bosom of his children.
Dr. Ochieng lived in an affluent suburb. Upper Hill Grove; up the hill, a walkable distance from the main road. Upper Hill Grove was ghastly silent. Its silence spread out like dusk.
On the hill, you had a panoramic view of the sprawling river Oyononi, in the distance, not so far away from the hill. The river purled on and on until it weakened furthest in the distance and its rippling dwindled and died out. On the West, a few houses overhung through the grove-like cliffs. Many more barren hills rolled on in the East like peaceful shadows.
A small path ran down the hill cutting through the grove to the bank of the river. At the bank, the path broke into two sandy paths and meandered through the grove with the overhanging houses.
When the two female housekeepers entered the house during the wee hours of the day, very little looked out of place—and of course, they expected nothing to the contrary.
"It's strange," one of the women said with curious oppression in her eyes. "The Doctor calling us himself?"
"Maybe he forgot we're supposed to report tomorrow."
"That's not what I mean."
"You mean calling us at such odd hours?"
"Yes, and the harshness in his tone."
"I think it's his withering state."
"And maybe the burden of his children." Said the first woman, shambling.
"Now he spends most of his days locked inside his room."
"And in the night he roams the grove and wanders up to the river."
Inside the courtyard, the two women followed the garden path that turned and circled the mansion. The mansion was remarkable. It stood like a crest on top of a misty mountain. Branches of shady dying pine trees stood against the enclosure wall. They bent inwards into the courtyard with the unabated look of an eerie forest. The shadows arrayed on the walls and ground like rustling purple curtains. Skeletons of the dying timber teethed—jutting in the space available like a scrap yard. The upper branches sprawled out like a wheeling bird.
There was a sullen atmosphere that hung around the mansion. Dire stillness, choking stillness, utter stillness. Dark clouds were lowering over the pine grove. Its crazy gaze stared at the snag—skeletal pines like two generals on opposing flanks. When the wind whistled through the yellow and gold dying leaves, it did with an undulating pattern and it looked like it would rain.
The woman trailing behind the first one, the fat one, lifted her eyes and noticed the lights on the first floor were off, it was quite unusual. When she moved her eyes to her right, she saw only one car instead of the usual fleet of cars. She began to feel uncomfortable.
"Have you noticed the lights are off on the first floor?" She whispered, frightened.
Silence. Direful silence. Just the two of them.
"And there's no single dog out," said the first woman in the queue.
"Seems there is no one at home," grunted the fat woman considering the silence.
"Except the Doctor maybe."
"The place is desolate."
The air was filled with suspicion. They stopped. Something seemed to watch their movement from the woods, from the house, from above. Nothing.
"What is that?" The fat woman asked, with a quiver in her voice.
"It's nothing, silence."
"Do you feel it above us?"
"It's strange. Nothing."
"Use the front door," Dr. Ochieng murmured, abruptly, ducking his head through the window above their heads—in the darkness.
The women were startled. They gasped for air. They were not allowed to use the front door except during those fancy parties. Their curiosity grew. Why now? Was everything alright? They somehow feared the old man. Rumours circulated that he conducted illegal biological experiments with his children. A lone, somewhere on this property.
They made a quick turn towards the front door. Halfway, between the corner and the stairs to the main entrance, a black cat jumped, purring out of a vase. It stood for a moment with a loathing stare—and leaped onto a branch of a tree. That too was strange. The cat belonged to Oditi, and Oditi went with it three months ago.
The women jerked, quivering, and as they did, a twig creaked as the cat sprung deep into the shadows.
Dr. Ochieng made four rapid freak strides across the sitting room. He had a dejected face, a shadow of a ghastly avatar.
He stood still, without moving, and for a moment his eyes darted from one corner to the other.
"Right here,"
"We're sorry we were delayed…" chorused the women timidly.
He interrupted them, "talk about being late later." He moved with speed towards the entrance leading him into the dining room.
"Now," He said. "It won't take us long. We only need to pack this into the car."
The women's faces turned dry and pale. Terror wore over them in the spectral silence. They were frightened beyond comprehension. Perhaps not so much from the lifeless bodies on the floor, but so much from the colour of darkness and the bitter cold on the face of the old lean man standing before them. A beastly cold stayed on his face like a ravening lion. The women's voices hushed and each looked fearfully at the other in the unbroken silence.
Oditi and his mother's motionless bodies stared back at them from where they lay on the floor. His clothes had shit. And the smell of that shit swamped the dining room. His tongue was half bitten and hung on the side of his mouth. His mother's face was coal black. Her neck was broken and tilted to the left. Her legs were spread out like a dead animal. The fat woman clapped her hand on her mouth, her stomach churning.
"Now?" The other woman asked with an echo of fear and distress.
Dr. Ochieng ignored her. He knelt with one knee and lifted the dead woman by grabbing her shoulders like he was lifting a dead dog.
"If you take up the legs, I'll appreciate it."
The dead woman slid from Dr. Ochieng's hands and fell back to the floor. The women yowled and jumped.
"You're not in a bar!"
"Yes. Yes, sir." Said the first woman, trembling. The fat woman was crying.
"You don't need to be extra careful. Just put in more effort."
Just as Dr. Ochieng cocked his head, there came a chattering sound—as thin, —as faint, —as confusing but audible as that of a baby from the window, above their heads. The women twitched and lifted their eyes. At the same time, curtains flung mid-air as a black cat swung and crouched under the chair. The brute beast purled. It clawed, digging into the carpet with the fierceness of a hungry lion. Its demoniacal teeth flashed in the glow. The women shrieked as if the beast's soul was induced into them.
Dr. Ochieng was not in the least bothered by the brute cat, in the scary sense. He propped the head of the dead woman on his knee and chased the cat by swinging his hand towards it. The angry animal yowled and jumped into the hallway.
"Start with the legs," Dr. Ochieng murmured. "It will be simple."
After a while, the women joined hands. A hush descended over them. Dr. Ochieng stared at them questioningly. He showed no panic except for his blanched face. And the void in his eyes. After a moment the trio carried the corpse to the car in the garage.
"Hope you don't need my help on the boy?" He asked, rubbing his hands against his shirt.
"Of course the boy!" The woman said in an awed whisper. Their knees cracked.
The fat woman cried again. Dr. Ochieng shook his head.
"I won't accept that," Dr. Ochieng said, and he meant it. He moved and peered at the dead woman's corpse and spat.
He then slid into the car, behind the steering wheel. He stretched his back a little, and it ached. His knees and legs ached. He had a slight headache. He thought, just seventeen years ago I wouldn't call for help. I could've shoveled everything into the car by myself. Like I used to do with all my specimens. He then popped his head out.
"I left something for you on the table in the sitting room," He said, "try not to talk to anyone about this, that way you won't die stupidly.
"We'll be around in case you need
anything," the women said after they'd stuck Oditi's body in the green V8 Landcruiser.
"Go home and come back tomorrow at the same time. Maybe God knows we might have something else." He smiled coldly.
As Dr. Ochieng sped out, the women noticed a trail of tires that seemed to have entered earlier on. The trail was faint like the sole of a Chinese shoe. The fat woman gagged and threw up. Her friend turned to her and held her gaze.
"As this mansion stands the test of time, I've neither seen nor heard anything."
"So do I," the fat woman said, gasping and hiccuping, but deep inside her, she doubted herself. It was just a plain doubt—not a conviction of any sort.
They stood around for a while, crying, and groaning, —groans of terror—and gazing up at the upper floor. While they stood there crying, a black Ford Focus car entered, all tinted. And then as if timely, the heavens opened up the windows of rain.
#
The area police, Upper Hill Grove police, was four and a half miles away from Dr. Ochieng's Upper Hill residence. The police looked like a deserted fire camp. Although it was called Oyononi Upper Hill Grove, it was at the edge, at the border between Oyononi Upper Hill Grove and Bonyo. So it looked much like Bonyo. A slum township where justice was thought of as a privilege, —pure water.
The police had a ramshackled roof. And the two windows on the opposite walls were broken. The paint on the walls was stripped off due to many decades of use. Heaps of everything were placed on the floor. The prison cell, a single room, facing the main entrance, looked like a toilet. Two or three wooden chairs stood naked on the floor. On both sides, the police was circled by iron sheets that constantly rustled at the touch of a gentle breeze.
Dr. Ochieng sat there with Dr. Olowa, his long-time friend. Cool air trickled in from the broken windows. Dr. Olowa was a thin old man with the face of a neglected child. He had little hair on his old head. If it wasn't for his face, the hair would have given him a look of a genius.
Ojoko stood with the two female housekeepers a few metres away from his father. He was taller than his father at six-two feet. He had a square face and a bad temper. He was equally compulsive.
He moved his eyes towards where his father sat and thought when you grow old like that you gladly accept death. He smiled at his funny thoughts. He then spat a long thread of saliva and brushed it away with the sole of his shoe.
The fat woman was restless. She cried privately inwards. She clapped her mouth with her hands, hiccuping. She told herself that she was doing the right thing. She loved the deceased woman and the poor boy.
There were two police constables on duty. A woman in her early twenties and a man who looked like a plumber and maybe in his mid-forties. The man looked ugly in the pale blue police uniform. When he was done talking to the teenage boy on the counter, he coughed and said,
"Next, please."
Dr. Ochieng and Dr. Olowa moved to the counter.
"Yes," the constable said, "do you know the suspect?"
The two doctors exchanged a look.
"If you could let me talk," said Dr. Ochieng, wondering if the police constable was a little dumb like his children. He read the name tag written in white. Constable Sang.
"No. No. You listen to me. Police are like a hospital. You're told what to do," Sang said and smiled showing his brown row of teeth.
"Well, In that case, I don't know whether there's a suspect yet!" Dr. Ochieng said.
"What was stolen? You don't look like someone can steal from you," the constable said and glanced at the female colleague. "You are so serious and tough."
Dr. Ochieng said nothing. There was a moment of silence. He twitched and looked at the two female housekeepers who stood with Ojoko. They seemed to speak in low voices with Ojoko.
"It's a missing case," Dr. Ochieng said afterward. "I thought it unnecessary to come with my lawyer." He studied the constable and concluded the man was slow in the head.
"The lady and a little boy." Dr. Olowa added.
"Oh, Christ of Mary, that's so sad," Sang said, writing down the details. "You'll have to tell me how many people stay with you."
"I have noticed you've not asked how I am connected to the lady and the boy!" Dr. Ochieng said, surprised.
The constable smiled.
"Oh, yes, who were they to you?"
"You mean who they're to me!"
"Sir, this is a busy place."
"My wife and our youngest son, Oditi, eight." Dr. Ochieng said and stared beyond the constable, thinking, this must be a high school dropout.
Dr. Olowa looked away. He ran his fingers in his thinning hair.
"Are you sure you were married?"
Dr. Ochieng ignored his question.
"Is that part of the procedure?" Dr. Olowa protested indignantly. "What type of question is that young man?"
"You want the procedure?" Sang asked and smiled. He flung his hands in the air. "Experience, sir. Now, if you can tell me how many people stay at your place, Mr…"
"Dr. Ochieng." He said and added with pride. "And my good friend Dr. Olowa.
"One stays permanently around, except for his private issues, Ojoko, three come once in a while they're students." He leaned forward. "Ojoko, Atieno, Okech, and Odaka."
"And I frequent the place," Dr. Olowa said.
Dr. Ochieng, holding the same position on the counter as before, whispered, "all four of my children have a little"-- he paused and looked away from Sang. " a little problem in the head."
"Oh, doctor, as in insane?!"
"I said, a little. I mean it's hard to realise it, but believe me, they're loonies. They're not mad, Mr. Sang."
Dr. Ochieng turned to Dr. Olowa, "what do you say?" He then let a soft meaningless smile part his cracked lips.
Dr. Olowa felt embarrassed but said, "yes, a little and you need to be smart to tell they're." He ran his fingers in his sliver-thinning hair and added, thoughtfully. "A little asinine, I believe they're."
"And two housekeepers," Dr. Ochieng said and indicated with the tilt of his head in the direction of Ojoko. "They work two days a week. Thursday and Sunday and maybe when they're called in."
Sang thought Dr. Ochieng was arrogant and weird and pretentious. He started to detest him.
"There, you see my boy, Ojoko, twenty-seven with the two housekeepers. Ojoko is the Chief Financial Manager of our company, me and my missing wife." Dr. Ochieng said and scuffed the floor with the heel of his shoe like how rich people do.
Sang looked down and rolled his eyes like a baby annoyed by his mother.
"Ojoko," Sang whispered.
He then craned his head a bit to see Ojoko. He thought drumming his pen on the table, a Chief Financial Manager who is a little weird in the head? Christ of Mary, isn't that creepy?
"Anything else?" Dr. Ochieng asked.
"No. With me, no. Maybe you've got something left out."
"Oh, yes, and a black cat is missing too." Dr. Olowa said and smiled timidly.
When Ojoko and the women had waited for so long, Ojoko said, "this place smells like a corpse." He then looked at the ground and tittered like a lunatic.
#
The sun was fading. It was now a deep orange semi-sphere. A dark-brown ring clung around its neck displaying the fragile glory of darkness. The dome was now poking behind the dozing hills on the East of Upper Hill Grove. Its hazy light flickered above the rafts of yellow-purple clouds. The yellow shafts peered through the tree tops and unto the tattered brown slats of Dr. Ochieng's back house, extended house.
The house was unkempt, aging with green mold clustering all over the house like a shroud of ghouls. The walls were painted in dying lemon yellow. Constable Sang stopped and took a long, frozen look at the house. Its withering lemon yellow colour looked like a dying man, and as if the house and its soul were dying, —as the yellow colour did.
The cracks on the house seemed to stir up a little under the trickle of the yellow shafts. "No way," he grunted. He felt uncomfortable. He felt drawn to the house. He didn't know how but he was sure; he felt a funny sweet sensation as though spat by the house—specially for him. He closed his eyes. He had never felt that way within the last eighteen years of his experience.
Dr. Olowa stood close to the brown rustic door. With red shameless eyes, wide open. No peel, no dirt, no grass—was under the way to the door. That was quite strange, thought Sang. Dr. Olowa looked suspicious. He looked like someone who'd seen a soulless Phantom.
Dr. Ochieng stood next to Constable Sang—two, three meters utmost. He folded his hands across his chest like he was anticipating something. He turned and stared at Sang with stupid keen eyes. Keen cold eyes. Keen dark eyes. Keen mean eyes. Very keen.
With a little shiver, constable Sang walked on past the old house. And past Atieno. Atieno, Dr. Ochieng's daughter. He followed the garden path leading him to the front of the mansion. He was quick, almost trotting. He was scared. He panted slightly sadly. These people aren't loonies, he thought, they're really mad. They're crazy. When the wind rose and rustled, it picked up soft sick groans. Soft whining. And when it ceased, the groans—-sick whining died out altogether. A Sickening rectus silence drifted about with the likeness of a dull day.
Dr. Ochieng trailed behind him, walking as quickly as Sang did. Now, Sang remembered Atieno, Dr. Ochidng's daughter. Maybe she wasn't as creepy, —as disturbed, —as weird as her father; in fact, she looked normal, he thought. But he remembered almost immediately that she didn't look up at him. She stared at the ground as if she was hiding her face. And then, her face too was obscured by the shadow cast by the mansion.
Dr. Ochieng caught up with Sang.
"Don't mind the back house," Dr. Ochieng said, "it's no longer in use."
"I noticed," Constable Sang said. "What is it kept for?"
"Dogs, crazy dogs."
"There are dogs in there?"
"Insane."
When they reached the stairs, Dr. Ochieng said, "your duty will end up inside."
"Inside?!" Sang said, nervously.
"I think all my boys are in there. Have a chat with them!"
Sang was shaking. His hand reached for his .45 ACP, and he felt it. Dr. Ochieng watched. Sang climbed the stairs all the time, thinking, all of them? The four of them, with a little problem in the head? And there wasn't any noise or sound, either in the house or out. He then remembered the red shameless eyes of Dr. Olowa. Was this normal?
In the house, the lights lit dimly sadly. Almost muted—with a subtle interest. The feeling was like the lights were projected from a weak distant source. The walls were painted in a deep Ocean blue. The furniture looked like antiques— in a museum. The outcome made Sang very wary. He felt like the house was drowning. As if he was in the middle of the sea. A soft fragrance drifted about. A detergent he thought. He looked around, the curtains were crumpled.
Okech, twenty, a third-year Veterinary Medicine student sat alone in the sitting room, —with an indifferent look of a tired man. With an excessive withdrawal of a freshly pregnant woman. Dark, thin, but strong especially of the physical aberrant—peculiar to the Ochiengs'. When Constable Sang approached him, in the company of Dr. Ochieng, Okech, twitched and turned and engaged their gaze as if he was a patient staring at a drunken doctor.
The dual stopped instantly as if commanded by the boy's icy look. They stood still. A moment of silence—hesitation. Dr. Ochieng clapped his mouth with his right hand. He was by no means appalled by the boy, but the house. Something he had grown wary of not only recently but all the time.
"I didn't mean to interrupt you," Sang said with a crack of fear. "It's my duty…"
"It's understandable."
"Oh, well then,"
Okech stood up and walked forward towards them.
"You don't mind a drink, do you? Okech said with a sly smile.
"Next time, thanks though."
"Mother of the dome," Okech said, scratching his forehead. It was as if he'd talked to himself.
"Please, don't mind him," Dr. Ochieng said. And thought, has this officer realised how loony my kids are? But I doubt it. He is incompetent.
Okech forced a faint smile. His eyes considered Sang.
"Your wife and son haven't been here for so long?" Sang asked, turning to Dr. Ochieng.
"Yes, she fled with the boy after a simple argument." Dr. Ochieng said in a spooky tone.
"Oh, so we can easily say since they left this place they've never returned?"
"Mother of the dome," Okech said, smiling.
"I see," Sang said, turned, and stared at the wall. "Plus, the cat?"
"Yes, with the cat," Dr. Ochieng said and for the first time since the ordeal, he panicked. He had forgotten about the cat.
"Daddy, the black cat…" Okech said but was interrupted by Dr. Ochieng.
"Now, go upstairs."
"Mother of the dome," Okech murmured as he shambled with a sombre face.
There was a moment of silence.
Sang shifted his gaze to the walls, again, and noticed black and white portraits hanging. He noticed with a chill, none of the people in the portraits smiled, —as if for fear of contradicting their inner feelings about the house. Dark green curtains stood in all the windows. How could that be? Was this mansion inherited?
"The dining room is over there." Dr. Ochieng said, indicating with his finger. In his raspy voice, still frightened—a little, about the cat. Where was the goddamned cat? He touched his forehead—then drummed it with the tip of his long fingers.
The air in the dining room was utterly still.
As they walked into the dining room, Dr. Olowa was sitting across the dining table facing Odaka. His eyes were drawn into a meditative gaze. Odaka, Dr. Ochieng's last born. Seventeen—about to finish High School. They sat there without talking. The mild glow, —and the deep Oceanic Blue felt as if they were in the middle of a sea.
A brown shag carpet swallowed up the dining floor. Close to the priceless paint, an impressionist painting, —stood writings in white: LET NO MAN JUDGE YOU BY WHAT YOU EAT OR DRINK.
"Dr. Olowa?" Sang called out, extending his hand to Dr. Olowa.
"Constable Sang," Dr. Olowa said, averting his eyes from Sang. " And this is Odaka."
Odaka smiled, left his sit, and made for the sitting room.
"Have you seen your mother recently?"
"No."
"Oh, you didn't visit her?"
"No," the boy said, turned, and stared at the ground. " Daddy couldn't allow us."
"That's bad. So you knew where she fled to?"
The boy ignored his question. Sang turned to Dr. Ochieng who stood silent.
"Did you know where your wife fled to?"
"Yes," he said but his mind was on the cat. The rest wasn't important now. "The company house."
Where was the cat? He folded his hands upon his bosom. He prayed silently for Sang to go. Small beads of sweat formed on his face. But Sang wasn't in a hurry. Alas! Who else saw the cat? The thought was becoming invasive.
"And I used to go there personally with Atieno." Dr. Olowa said. And he felt stupid.
"Atieno."
"Mother of the dome," Okech shouted descending the stairs.
"Is it far?"
"No," Okech said. The two doctors looked at him.
"I need to see the house myself."
He walked forward towards the door. And who did he meet? Atieno coming in. As he stopped she simply said,
"Mother of the dome."
"Mother of the dome," Okech added.
As the gate swung open, Sang jerked and turned and looked up. The curtain on the upper floor moved slightly in the window. He saw it and his lips parted with a meaningless smile.
#
Upstairs, on the upper floor, close to the window overlooking the gate; Dr. Ochieng walked to the wall, tripped off the lights, and sat heavily on a chair. He sat there in the darkness for a long while. For the first time since his wife had fled, and her eventual demise, he'd not felt pain and confusion and panic and worthlessness like he felt today. He cried and moaned. He didn't expect this. Although they quarreled regularly, he never thought of killing his wife, Othambo, and his stepson Oditi.
Dr. Ochieng remembered—it was a simple question he'd asked.
"Othambo, who is the father of that boy?" He asked in his usual stupid tone.
"It's none of your business, dumb."
"It's my business so long as you are my wife."
"You are not right in the head," she gave him a shout of contempt. "Listen to yourself!"
Dr. Ochieng said nothing. He stood there shaking his head in dismay. He cried a little.
"You're old and dumb," she yelled. "Can't show you to my friends anymore."
"Please, Othambo," he said, staring up at the ceiling. "Think of the kids, please you hurt their feelings too."
"You're all insane. I found a man who had the genes of a normal person, not crazy people like you."
"You're the mother of the dome!"
After that simple argument, she decamped to the company house. He never followed, called, or talked to her until Wednesday when he found her dead body and that of Oditi in the dining room. It seems, he thought, someone killed both of them and brought them into the house, but who?
And why? It felt ironic to him in the sense that on the very questions, he had answers. Who? One or two or three or all the children committed the heinous act. Why? They heard the argument. Presumably, that's where " Mother of the dome." Came from. He went on crying.
He remembered when he went out to the University that day, he took his car. Dr. Olowa had taken one car because his car had broken down. Another car was given out to Atieno's friend. Another car was towed to the mechanic, and the rest of the cars were with the children. The V8 LandCruiser belonged to his brother, Professor Omakech, and was inside the garage. The car in the driveway belonged to Ojoko and it was out of use.
Whoever killed Othambo, came home with the corpses and disposed of their remains. But there must have been two of them. That's probably the reason why the dogs were caged… the accomplice might have been an intruder—new to the dogs. When Dr. Ochieng entered the house, the lights on the upper floor were off. The killer might have left in a hurry forgetting to switch on the lights.
In the darkness, as Dr. Ochieng went about weeping, a black cat lunged and sat on his lap, snarling. It yowled and pawed. Its eyes dilated and blazed. He was instantly hypnotised and felt as though the cat was whispering—satirical whispers. He screamed and yanked the beast, and screamed again, and flinched, —and stood there in a rictus of terror.
A membrane of its saliva clung to his hands. Painful saliva. Again, it jumped over his head. He tried to grab it. But It swirled and scratched his hands and hurtled into the darkness growling ominously. And then, the growling ceased—almost abruptly. He stood there trembling. This wasn't the normal cat he knew, he thought, with a spectral face, something was a mess.
In the fog of silence. He panicked not only about the brute cat but also about the killer. He knew the killer was in the house. He knew the killer was watching every bit of his movement. Gnawing fear prowled his legs. His heart raced crazily—feeling as if he were immersed in warm, —boiling water. His head seemed to levitate. He felt like screaming out his frustrations, his madness, his panic. Who was the killer? And why was the cat on the incursions? Was it a warning?
Yes, it was—late, and Dr. Ochieng knew it was a matter of time before the killer struck again. He stood there in the spectral darkness, in convulsions, until he started to see the colour of darkness. Its colour was everywhere around him. Its colour was like that of his children, like the colour of death, —stygian, thick —its temperature—cold, frigid. He forced himself to move slowly, dragging his feet, hauling to the hallway.
Somewhere, outside, a bird cried. In the woods, the wind rose laughing gently as they tapped the leaves. The skeletal pine trees whined and swayed.
In the hallway, a stale smell rose and hung in the air. Dr. Ochieng balled out his hands into a fist, feeling a sharp pain from his wounds. As he hauled, his eyes fell on the dead cat—the black cat. Its headless body sprawled on the floor.
Blood smudged on the floor and walls like a child's doodling. Aloft, on the wall, poorly written words read MOTHER OF THE DOME. He toppled and lay on the floor propping on his elbow. He groaned and whimpered. As he did, he reckoned, as he was bosoming his children; he groomed them into killing machines.
In the distance, in the hallway, Ojoko paced towards his father. His face was blank so were his feelings. When Dr. Ochieng lifted his foggy eyes and saw him— a few paces away, Dr. Ochieng fell on the headless cat in an attempt to conceal it. Suddenly, Ojoko jerked and turned back. Was he the killer? Dr. Ochieng thought, —crying. He reached for the phone impromptu in his trouser pockets and fiddled with it, then punched the numbers. As he did, the phone slipped to the floor—zizzing.
Then, again, in the foyer, all the children strode—jolting towards Dr. Ochieng. The foyer rumbled.
The phone zizzed.
Dr. Ochieng cried out… screamed… yelled. He tried to stand up but fell.
The zizzing stopped.
"Yes, Dr. Ochieng," Sang's suspicious voice rattled. "I wasn't expecting your call this soon."
"Mother of the dome," He cried.
"What?"
A faint aeolian sound clanked on the phone—a more steady, —a stiffer spooky sound. Then, the phone died out.
THE END
MOTHER OF THE DOME(Ndugwa Ndugwa)
MOTHER OF THE DOME
Four of Dr. Ochieng's children had a common mild autism spectrum disorder—they behaved a little scary, —a little creepy, —and, as though their souls were at a rift; except for the youngest son, Oditi.
"Don't talk to me like that. No. No excuses. Yes. I want you here before 05:30," Dr. Ochieng said in a raspy voice and dropped the call.
Dr. Ochieng at sixty-nine was thin and tall and quiet and reserved—on the sly with menacing eyes like the eye of a midnight storm. His face had withered away into a shadow of a weary man. His fingers were long, —thin, hard, and mildly crooked, —wilted crump of flesh. He acted weird, —suspicious, he behaved as though his sane mind had departed him—substituted with an obsession with protecting his children from the unseen cruelty of the malevolent man. His obsession became so strong that people looked at him with dread.
Dr. Ochieng knew people regarded him with contempt, he knew they whispered his not being right in the head with gluttonous insidiousness, but none dared to tell him; on his face, save his wife Othambo. "I can't waste my time on you, your head isn't right." She would say at least twice every day.
"It's my fault that I married a young lady like you." He would say quietly staring at the ground, masking his box of grief and misfortune—tears in his old sunken eyes, but that wasn't important, though painful… What counted for him was the safety of his children… the bosom of his children.
Dr. Ochieng lived in an affluent suburb. Upper Hill Grove; up the hill, a walkable distance from the main road. Upper Hill Grove was ghastly silent. Its silence spread out like dusk.
On the hill, you had a panoramic view of the sprawling river Oyononi, in the distance, not so far away from the hill. The river purled on and on until it weakened furthest in the distance and its rippling dwindled and died out. On the West, a few houses overhung through the grove-like cliffs. Many more barren hills rolled on in the East like peaceful shadows.
A small path ran down the hill cutting through the grove to the bank of the river. At the bank, the path broke into two sandy paths and meandered through the grove with the overhanging houses.
When the two female housekeepers entered the house during the wee hours of the day, very little looked out of place—and of course, they expected nothing to the contrary.
"It's strange," one of the women said with curious oppression in her eyes. "The Doctor calling us himself?"
"Maybe he forgot we're supposed to report tomorrow."
"That's not what I mean."
"You mean calling us at such odd hours?"
"Yes, and the harshness in his tone."
"I think it's his withering state."
"And maybe the burden of his children." Said the first woman, shambling.
"Now he spends most of his days locked inside his room."
"And in the night he roams the grove and wanders up to the river."
Inside the courtyard, the two women followed the garden path that turned and circled the mansion. The mansion was remarkable. It stood like a crest on top of a misty mountain. Branches of shady dying pine trees stood against the enclosure wall. They bent inwards into the courtyard with the unabated look of an eerie forest. The shadows arrayed on the walls and ground like rustling purple curtains. Skeletons of the dying timber teethed—jutting in the space available like a scrap yard. The upper branches sprawled out like a wheeling bird.
There was a sullen atmosphere that hung around the mansion. Dire stillness, choking stillness, utter stillness. Dark clouds were lowering over the pine grove. Its crazy gaze stared at the snag—skeletal pines like two generals on opposing flanks. When the wind whistled through the yellow and gold dying leaves, it did with an undulating pattern and it looked like it would rain.
The woman trailing behind the first one, the fat one, lifted her eyes and noticed the lights on the first floor were off, it was quite unusual. When she moved her eyes to her right, she saw only one car instead of the usual fleet of cars. She began to feel uncomfortable.
"Have you noticed the lights are off on the first floor?" She whispered, frightened.
Silence. Direful silence. Just the two of them.
"And there's no single dog out," said the first woman in the queue.
"Seems there is no one at home," grunted the fat woman considering the silence.
"Except the Doctor maybe."
"The place is desolate."
The air was filled with suspicion. They stopped. Something seemed to watch their movement from the woods, from the house, from above. Nothing.
"What is that?" The fat woman asked, with a quiver in her voice.
"It's nothing, silence."
"Do you feel it above us?"
"It's strange. Nothing."
"Use the front door," Dr. Ochieng murmured, abruptly, ducking his head through the window above their heads—in the darkness.
The women were startled. They gasped for air. They were not allowed to use the front door except during those fancy parties. Their curiosity grew. Why now? Was everything alright? They somehow feared the old man. Rumours circulated that he conducted illegal biological experiments with his children. A lone, somewhere on this property.
They made a quick turn towards the front door. Halfway, between the corner and the stairs to the main entrance, a black cat jumped, purring out of a vase. It stood for a moment with a loathing stare—and leaped onto a branch of a tree. That too was strange. The cat belonged to Oditi, and Oditi went with it three months ago.
The women jerked, quivering, and as they did, a twig creaked as the cat sprung deep into the shadows.
Dr. Ochieng made four rapid freak strides across the sitting room. He had a dejected face, a shadow of a ghastly avatar.
He stood still, without moving, and for a moment his eyes darted from one corner to the other.
"Right here,"
"We're sorry we were delayed…" chorused the women timidly.
He interrupted them, "talk about being late later." He moved with speed towards the entrance leading him into the dining room.
"Now," He said. "It won't take us long. We only need to pack this into the car."
The women's faces turned dry and pale. Terror wore over them in the spectral silence. They were frightened beyond comprehension. Perhaps not so much from the lifeless bodies on the floor, but so much from the colour of darkness and the bitter cold on the face of the old lean man standing before them. A beastly cold stayed on his face like a ravening lion. The women's voices hushed and each looked fearfully at the other in the unbroken silence.
Oditi and his mother's motionless bodies stared back at them from where they lay on the floor. His clothes had shit. And the smell of that shit swamped the dining room. His tongue was half bitten and hung on the side of his mouth. His mother's face was coal black. Her neck was broken and tilted to the left. Her legs were spread out like a dead animal. The fat woman clapped her hand on her mouth, her stomach churning.
"Now?" The other woman asked with an echo of fear and distress.
Dr. Ochieng ignored her. He knelt with one knee and lifted the dead woman by grabbing her shoulders like he was lifting a dead dog.
"If you take up the legs, I'll appreciate it."
The dead woman slid from Dr. Ochieng's hands and fell back to the floor. The women yowled and jumped.
"You're not in a bar!"
"Yes. Yes, sir." Said the first woman, trembling. The fat woman was crying.
"You don't need to be extra careful. Just put in more effort."
Just as Dr. Ochieng cocked his head, there came a chattering sound—as thin, —as faint, —as confusing but audible as that of a baby from the window, above their heads. The women twitched and lifted their eyes. At the same time, curtains flung mid-air as a black cat swung and crouched under the chair. The brute beast purled. It clawed, digging into the carpet with the fierceness of a hungry lion. Its demoniacal teeth flashed in the glow. The women shrieked as if the beast's soul was induced into them.
Dr. Ochieng was not in the least bothered by the brute cat, in the scary sense. He propped the head of the dead woman on his knee and chased the cat by swinging his hand towards it. The angry animal yowled and jumped into the hallway.
"Start with the legs," Dr. Ochieng murmured. "It will be simple."
After a while, the women joined hands. A hush descended over them. Dr. Ochieng stared at them questioningly. He showed no panic except for his blanched face. And the void in his eyes. After a moment the trio carried the corpse to the car in the garage.
"Hope you don't need my help on the boy?" He asked, rubbing his hands against his shirt.
"Of course the boy!" The woman said in an awed whisper. Their knees cracked.
The fat woman cried again. Dr. Ochieng shook his head.
"I won't accept that," Dr. Ochieng said, and he meant it. He moved and peered at the dead woman's corpse and spat.
He then slid into the car, behind the steering wheel. He stretched his back a little, and it ached. His knees and legs ached. He had a slight headache. He thought, just seventeen years ago I wouldn't call for help. I could've shoveled everything into the car by myself. Like I used to do with all my specimens. He then popped his head out.
"I left something for you on the table in the sitting room," He said, "try not to talk to anyone about this, that way you won't die stupidly.
"We'll be around in case you need
anything," the women said after they'd stuck Oditi's body in the green V8 Landcruiser.
"Go home and come back tomorrow at the same time. Maybe God knows we might have something else." He smiled coldly.
As Dr. Ochieng sped out, the women noticed a trail of tires that seemed to have entered earlier on. The trail was faint like the sole of a Chinese shoe. The fat woman gagged and threw up. Her friend turned to her and held her gaze.
"As this mansion stands the test of time, I've neither seen nor heard anything."
"So do I," the fat woman said, gasping and hiccuping, but deep inside her, she doubted herself. It was just a plain doubt—not a conviction of any sort.
They stood around for a while, crying, and groaning, —groans of terror—and gazing up at the upper floor. While they stood there crying, a black Ford Focus car entered, all tinted. And then as if timely, the heavens opened up the windows of rain.
#
The area police, Upper Hill Grove police, was four and a half miles away from Dr. Ochieng's Upper Hill residence. The police looked like a deserted fire camp. Although it was called Oyononi Upper Hill Grove, it was at the edge, at the border between Oyononi Upper Hill Grove and Bonyo. So it looked much like Bonyo. A slum township where justice was thought of as a privilege, —pure water.
The police had a ramshackled roof. And the two windows on the opposite walls were broken. The paint on the walls was stripped off due to many decades of use. Heaps of everything were placed on the floor. The prison cell, a single room, facing the main entrance, looked like a toilet. Two or three wooden chairs stood naked on the floor. On both sides, the police was circled by iron sheets that constantly rustled at the touch of a gentle breeze.
Dr. Ochieng sat there with Dr. Olowa, his long-time friend. Cool air trickled in from the broken windows. Dr. Olowa was a thin old man with the face of a neglected child. He had little hair on his old head. If it wasn't for his face, the hair would have given him a look of a genius.
Ojoko stood with the two female housekeepers a few metres away from his father. He was taller than his father at six-two feet. He had a square face and a bad temper. He was equally compulsive.
He moved his eyes towards where his father sat and thought when you grow old like that you gladly accept death. He smiled at his funny thoughts. He then spat a long thread of saliva and brushed it away with the sole of his shoe.
The fat woman was restless. She cried privately inwards. She clapped her mouth with her hands, hiccuping. She told herself that she was doing the right thing. She loved the deceased woman and the poor boy.
There were two police constables on duty. A woman in her early twenties and a man who looked like a plumber and maybe in his mid-forties. The man looked ugly in the pale blue police uniform. When he was done talking to the teenage boy on the counter, he coughed and said,
"Next, please."
Dr. Ochieng and Dr. Olowa moved to the counter.
"Yes," the constable said, "do you know the suspect?"
The two doctors exchanged a look.
"If you could let me talk," said Dr. Ochieng, wondering if the police constable was a little dumb like his children. He read the name tag written in white. Constable Sang.
"No. No. You listen to me. Police are like a hospital. You're told what to do," Sang said and smiled showing his brown row of teeth.
"Well, In that case, I don't know whether there's a suspect yet!" Dr. Ochieng said.
"What was stolen? You don't look like someone can steal from you," the constable said and glanced at the female colleague. "You are so serious and tough."
Dr. Ochieng said nothing. There was a moment of silence. He twitched and looked at the two female housekeepers who stood with Ojoko. They seemed to speak in low voices with Ojoko.
"It's a missing case," Dr. Ochieng said afterward. "I thought it unnecessary to come with my lawyer." He studied the constable and concluded the man was slow in the head.
"The lady and a little boy." Dr. Olowa added.
"Oh, Christ of Mary, that's so sad," Sang said, writing down the details. "You'll have to tell me how many people stay with you."
"I have noticed you've not asked how I am connected to the lady and the boy!" Dr. Ochieng said, surprised.
The constable smiled.
"Oh, yes, who were they to you?"
"You mean who they're to me!"
"Sir, this is a busy place."
"My wife and our youngest son, Oditi, eight." Dr. Ochieng said and stared beyond the constable, thinking, this must be a high school dropout.
Dr. Olowa looked away. He ran his fingers in his thinning hair.
"Are you sure you were married?"
Dr. Ochieng ignored his question.
"Is that part of the procedure?" Dr. Olowa protested indignantly. "What type of question is that young man?"
"You want the procedure?" Sang asked and smiled. He flung his hands in the air. "Experience, sir. Now, if you can tell me how many people stay at your place, Mr…"
"Dr. Ochieng." He said and added with pride. "And my good friend Dr. Olowa.
"One stays permanently around, except for his private issues, Ojoko, three come once in a while they're students." He leaned forward. "Ojoko, Atieno, Okech, and Odaka."
"And I frequent the place," Dr. Olowa said.
Dr. Ochieng, holding the same position on the counter as before, whispered, "all four of my children have a little"-- he paused and looked away from Sang. " a little problem in the head."
"Oh, doctor, as in insane?!"
"I said, a little. I mean it's hard to realise it, but believe me, they're loonies. They're not mad, Mr. Sang."
Dr. Ochieng turned to Dr. Olowa, "what do you say?" He then let a soft meaningless smile part his cracked lips.
Dr. Olowa felt embarrassed but said, "yes, a little and you need to be smart to tell they're." He ran his fingers in his sliver-thinning hair and added, thoughtfully. "A little asinine, I believe they're."
"And two housekeepers," Dr. Ochieng said and indicated with the tilt of his head in the direction of Ojoko. "They work two days a week. Thursday and Sunday and maybe when they're called in."
Sang thought Dr. Ochieng was arrogant and weird and pretentious. He started to detest him.
"There, you see my boy, Ojoko, twenty-seven with the two housekeepers. Ojoko is the Chief Financial Manager of our company, me and my missing wife." Dr. Ochieng said and scuffed the floor with the heel of his shoe like how rich people do.
Sang looked down and rolled his eyes like a baby annoyed by his mother.
"Ojoko," Sang whispered.
He then craned his head a bit to see Ojoko. He thought drumming his pen on the table, a Chief Financial Manager who is a little weird in the head? Christ of Mary, isn't that creepy?
"Anything else?" Dr. Ochieng asked.
"No. With me, no. Maybe you've got something left out."
"Oh, yes, and a black cat is missing too." Dr. Olowa said and smiled timidly.
When Ojoko and the women had waited for so long, Ojoko said, "this place smells like a corpse." He then looked at the ground and tittered like a lunatic.
#
The sun was fading. It was now a deep orange semi-sphere. A dark-brown ring clung around its neck displaying the fragile glory of darkness. The dome was now poking behind the dozing hills on the East of Upper Hill Grove. Its hazy light flickered above the rafts of yellow-purple clouds. The yellow shafts peered through the tree tops and unto the tattered brown slats of Dr. Ochieng's back house, extended house.
The house was unkempt, aging with green mold clustering all over the house like a shroud of ghouls. The walls were painted in dying lemon yellow. Constable Sang stopped and took a long, frozen look at the house. Its withering lemon yellow colour looked like a dying man, and as if the house and its soul were dying, —as the yellow colour did.
The cracks on the house seemed to stir up a little under the trickle of the yellow shafts. "No way," he grunted. He felt uncomfortable. He felt drawn to the house. He didn't know how but he was sure; he felt a funny sweet sensation as though spat by the house—specially for him. He closed his eyes. He had never felt that way within the last eighteen years of his experience.
Dr. Olowa stood close to the brown rustic door. With red shameless eyes, wide open. No peel, no dirt, no grass—was under the way to the door. That was quite strange, thought Sang. Dr. Olowa looked suspicious. He looked like someone who'd seen a soulless Phantom.
Dr. Ochieng stood next to Constable Sang—two, three meters utmost. He folded his hands across his chest like he was anticipating something. He turned and stared at Sang with stupid keen eyes. Keen cold eyes. Keen dark eyes. Keen mean eyes. Very keen.
With a little shiver, constable Sang walked on past the old house. And past Atieno. Atieno, Dr. Ochieng's daughter. He followed the garden path leading him to the front of the mansion. He was quick, almost trotting. He was scared. He panted slightly sadly. These people aren't loonies, he thought, they're really mad. They're crazy. When the wind rose and rustled, it picked up soft sick groans. Soft whining. And when it ceased, the groans—-sick whining died out altogether. A Sickening rectus silence drifted about with the likeness of a dull day.
Dr. Ochieng trailed behind him, walking as quickly as Sang did. Now, Sang remembered Atieno, Dr. Ochidng's daughter. Maybe she wasn't as creepy, —as disturbed, —as weird as her father; in fact, she looked normal, he thought. But he remembered almost immediately that she didn't look up at him. She stared at the ground as if she was hiding her face. And then, her face too was obscured by the shadow cast by the mansion.
Dr. Ochieng caught up with Sang.
"Don't mind the back house," Dr. Ochieng said, "it's no longer in use."
"I noticed," Constable Sang said. "What is it kept for?"
"Dogs, crazy dogs."
"There are dogs in there?"
"Insane."
When they reached the stairs, Dr. Ochieng said, "your duty will end up inside."
"Inside?!" Sang said, nervously.
"I think all my boys are in there. Have a chat with them!"
Sang was shaking. His hand reached for his .45 ACP, and he felt it. Dr. Ochieng watched. Sang climbed the stairs all the time, thinking, all of them? The four of them, with a little problem in the head? And there wasn't any noise or sound, either in the house or out. He then remembered the red shameless eyes of Dr. Olowa. Was this normal?
In the house, the lights lit dimly sadly. Almost muted—with a subtle interest. The feeling was like the lights were projected from a weak distant source. The walls were painted in a deep Ocean blue. The furniture looked like antiques— in a museum. The outcome made Sang very wary. He felt like the house was drowning. As if he was in the middle of the sea. A soft fragrance drifted about. A detergent he thought. He looked around, the curtains were crumpled.
Okech, twenty, a third-year Veterinary Medicine student sat alone in the sitting room, —with an indifferent look of a tired man. With an excessive withdrawal of a freshly pregnant woman. Dark, thin, but strong especially of the physical aberrant—peculiar to the Ochiengs'. When Constable Sang approached him, in the company of Dr. Ochieng, Okech, twitched and turned and engaged their gaze as if he was a patient staring at a drunken doctor.
The dual stopped instantly as if commanded by the boy's icy look. They stood still. A moment of silence—hesitation. Dr. Ochieng clapped his mouth with his right hand. He was by no means appalled by the boy, but the house. Something he had grown wary of not only recently but all the time.
"I didn't mean to interrupt you," Sang said with a crack of fear. "It's my duty…"
"It's understandable."
"Oh, well then,"
Okech stood up and walked forward towards them.
"You don't mind a drink, do you? Okech said with a sly smile.
"Next time, thanks though."
"Mother of the dome," Okech said, scratching his forehead. It was as if he'd talked to himself.
"Please, don't mind him," Dr. Ochieng said. And thought, has this officer realised how loony my kids are? But I doubt it. He is incompetent.
Okech forced a faint smile. His eyes considered Sang.
"Your wife and son haven't been here for so long?" Sang asked, turning to Dr. Ochieng.
"Yes, she fled with the boy after a simple argument." Dr. Ochieng said in a spooky tone.
"Oh, so we can easily say since they left this place they've never returned?"
"Mother of the dome," Okech said, smiling.
"I see," Sang said, turned, and stared at the wall. "Plus, the cat?"
"Yes, with the cat," Dr. Ochieng said and for the first time since the ordeal, he panicked. He had forgotten about the cat.
"Daddy, the black cat…" Okech said but was interrupted by Dr. Ochieng.
"Now, go upstairs."
"Mother of the dome," Okech murmured as he shambled with a sombre face.
There was a moment of silence.
Sang shifted his gaze to the walls, again, and noticed black and white portraits hanging. He noticed with a chill, none of the people in the portraits smiled, —as if for fear of contradicting their inner feelings about the house. Dark green curtains stood in all the windows. How could that be? Was this mansion inherited?
"The dining room is over there." Dr. Ochieng said, indicating with his finger. In his raspy voice, still frightened—a little, about the cat. Where was the goddamned cat? He touched his forehead—then drummed it with the tip of his long fingers.
The air in the dining room was utterly still.
As they walked into the dining room, Dr. Olowa was sitting across the dining table facing Odaka. His eyes were drawn into a meditative gaze. Odaka, Dr. Ochieng's last born. Seventeen—about to finish High School. They sat there without talking. The mild glow, —and the deep Oceanic Blue felt as if they were in the middle of a sea.
A brown shag carpet swallowed up the dining floor. Close to the priceless paint, an impressionist painting, —stood writings in white: LET NO MAN JUDGE YOU BY WHAT YOU EAT OR DRINK.
"Dr. Olowa?" Sang called out, extending his hand to Dr. Olowa.
"Constable Sang," Dr. Olowa said, averting his eyes from Sang. " And this is Odaka."
Odaka smiled, left his sit, and made for the sitting room.
"Have you seen your mother recently?"
"No."
"Oh, you didn't visit her?"
"No," the boy said, turned, and stared at the ground. " Daddy couldn't allow us."
"That's bad. So you knew where she fled to?"
The boy ignored his question. Sang turned to Dr. Ochieng who stood silent.
"Did you know where your wife fled to?"
"Yes," he said but his mind was on the cat. The rest wasn't important now. "The company house."
Where was the cat? He folded his hands upon his bosom. He prayed silently for Sang to go. Small beads of sweat formed on his face. But Sang wasn't in a hurry. Alas! Who else saw the cat? The thought was becoming invasive.
"And I used to go there personally with Atieno." Dr. Olowa said. And he felt stupid.
"Atieno."
"Mother of the dome," Okech shouted descending the stairs.
"Is it far?"
"No," Okech said. The two doctors looked at him.
"I need to see the house myself."
He walked forward towards the door. And who did he meet? Atieno coming in. As he stopped she simply said,
"Mother of the dome."
"Mother of the dome," Okech added.
As the gate swung open, Sang jerked and turned and looked up. The curtain on the upper floor moved slightly in the window. He saw it and his lips parted with a meaningless smile.
#
Upstairs, on the upper floor, close to the window overlooking the gate; Dr. Ochieng walked to the wall, tripped off the lights, and sat heavily on a chair. He sat there in the darkness for a long while. For the first time since his wife had fled, and her eventual demise, he'd not felt pain and confusion and panic and worthlessness like he felt today. He cried and moaned. He didn't expect this. Although they quarreled regularly, he never thought of killing his wife, Othambo, and his stepson Oditi.
Dr. Ochieng remembered—it was a simple question he'd asked.
"Othambo, who is the father of that boy?" He asked in his usual stupid tone.
"It's none of your business, dumb."
"It's my business so long as you are my wife."
"You are not right in the head," she gave him a shout of contempt. "Listen to yourself!"
Dr. Ochieng said nothing. He stood there shaking his head in dismay. He cried a little.
"You're old and dumb," she yelled. "Can't show you to my friends anymore."
"Please, Othambo," he said, staring up at the ceiling. "Think of the kids, please you hurt their feelings too."
"You're all insane. I found a man who had the genes of a normal person, not crazy people like you."
"You're the mother of the dome!"
After that simple argument, she decamped to the company house. He never followed, called, or talked to her until Wednesday when he found her dead body and that of Oditi in the dining room. It seems, he thought, someone killed both of them and brought them into the house, but who?
And why? It felt ironic to him in the sense that on the very questions, he had answers. Who? One or two or three or all the children committed the heinous act. Why? They heard the argument. Presumably, that's where " Mother of the dome." Came from. He went on crying.
He remembered when he went out to the University that day, he took his car. Dr. Olowa had taken one car because his car had broken down. Another car was given out to Atieno's friend. Another car was towed to the mechanic, and the rest of the cars were with the children. The V8 LandCruiser belonged to his brother, Professor Omakech, and was inside the garage. The car in the driveway belonged to Ojoko and it was out of use.
Whoever killed Othambo, came home with the corpses and disposed of their remains. But there must have been two of them. That's probably the reason why the dogs were caged… the accomplice might have been an intruder—new to the dogs. When Dr. Ochieng entered the house, the lights on the upper floor were off. The killer might have left in a hurry forgetting to switch on the lights.
In the darkness, as Dr. Ochieng went about weeping, a black cat lunged and sat on his lap, snarling. It yowled and pawed. Its eyes dilated and blazed. He was instantly hypnotised and felt as though the cat was whispering—satirical whispers. He screamed and yanked the beast, and screamed again, and flinched, —and stood there in a rictus of terror.
A membrane of its saliva clung to his hands. Painful saliva. Again, it jumped over his head. He tried to grab it. But It swirled and scratched his hands and hurtled into the darkness growling ominously. And then, the growling ceased—almost abruptly. He stood there trembling. This wasn't the normal cat he knew, he thought, with a spectral face, something was a mess.
In the fog of silence. He panicked not only about the brute cat but also about the killer. He knew the killer was in the house. He knew the killer was watching every bit of his movement. Gnawing fear prowled his legs. His heart raced crazily—feeling as if he were immersed in warm, —boiling water. His head seemed to levitate. He felt like screaming out his frustrations, his madness, his panic. Who was the killer? And why was the cat on the incursions? Was it a warning?
Yes, it was—late, and Dr. Ochieng knew it was a matter of time before the killer struck again. He stood there in the spectral darkness, in convulsions, until he started to see the colour of darkness. Its colour was everywhere around him. Its colour was like that of his children, like the colour of death, —stygian, thick —its temperature—cold, frigid. He forced himself to move slowly, dragging his feet, hauling to the hallway.
Somewhere, outside, a bird cried. In the woods, the wind rose laughing gently as they tapped the leaves. The skeletal pine trees whined and swayed.
In the hallway, a stale smell rose and hung in the air. Dr. Ochieng balled out his hands into a fist, feeling a sharp pain from his wounds. As he hauled, his eyes fell on the dead cat—the black cat. Its headless body sprawled on the floor.
Blood smudged on the floor and walls like a child's doodling. Aloft, on the wall, poorly written words read MOTHER OF THE DOME. He toppled and lay on the floor propping on his elbow. He groaned and whimpered. As he did, he reckoned, as he was bosoming his children; he groomed them into killing machines.
In the distance, in the hallway, Ojoko paced towards his father. His face was blank so were his feelings. When Dr. Ochieng lifted his foggy eyes and saw him— a few paces away, Dr. Ochieng fell on the headless cat in an attempt to conceal it. Suddenly, Ojoko jerked and turned back. Was he the killer? Dr. Ochieng thought, —crying. He reached for the phone impromptu in his trouser pockets and fiddled with it, then punched the numbers. As he did, the phone slipped to the floor—zizzing.
Then, again, in the foyer, all the children strode—jolting towards Dr. Ochieng. The foyer rumbled.
The phone zizzed.
Dr. Ochieng cried out… screamed… yelled. He tried to stand up but fell.
The zizzing stopped.
"Yes, Dr. Ochieng," Sang's suspicious voice rattled. "I wasn't expecting your call this soon."
"Mother of the dome," He cried.
"What?"
A faint aeolian sound clanked on the phone—a more steady, —a stiffer spooky sound. Then, the phone died out.
THE END
- Share this story on
- 3
Praise Ndlovu
08/30/2022It's the description of the kids that got me glued to the story... Love the imagery of the house's 'lemon yellow painting that has no soul", it enlightens the reader on the tragedies that transpired and prepares one to not expect anything good to come out from there...
Last but not least Dr Ochieng reckoning that he groomed his children into killing machines shows the importance of raising kids in the right way... It's a tragic story...very sad indeed...
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Ann K
08/29/2022A very sad tale. But couldn't you have avoided including the police? I enjoyed though.
Reply
COMMENTS (3)