Untitled Fiction 02.

The glass slipped in slow motion and shattered on the marble floor of the kitchen. “Fuuuuuccckkkk” curdled out of Kemi’s throat as she frantically pushed the falling pots and plates back onto the dish rack. She froze, listening, waiting to make sure the avalanche of dishes had stopped, then, muttering under her breath and holding them in place with one hand, she began safely piling the haphazardly stacked dishes on the side.

Linford’s nostrils flared but his eyes remained closed. If he found the dishes broken he would punch the fuck outta those kids, but the migraine he felt coming on over his hangover was granting them small reprieve. He rolled over on the burnt brown, faux leather sofa and pulled the flattened back cushion over his face. “Fucking kids,” he breathed scratching his bare shin with the heel of his calloused foot.
The children squatted against the bannisters of the first floor landing, listening, mouths open, breathing shallow. Amara gripped his sister’s wrist, his sloping brown eyes fixated on the splintered teeth marks in the baluster his high forehead rested on. Amaka, stroked her younger brother’s head, his springy twists elongated with every heavy handed pet. She no longer feared her mother in this state, she had come to quickly accept the crashing and banging; she didn’t do it on purpose, but Amaka didn’t know how to tell her mother that overturning things frightened Amara.

Kemi grabbed two handfuls of cutlery from the dish rack and paused,
“What did I tell you kids about putting away the fucking dishes!” she yelled to the ceiling, “Amaka!”
She yanked opened the cutlery drawer by the sink and carelessly dropped the water stained knives and spoons inside.
Linford opened his eyes and stared into the cushion.
“Amaka! Come here! Bring your brother,” Kemi called. She grabbed a stack of plates and balancing them against her chest she whirled round and pulled open the cupboard behind her. The door swung back on its hinges and banged shut again. Annoyed, Kemi slammed the stack of plates on the counter and pulled open the cupboard, holding the handle. She slid the plates, one after the other, on to the shelf and let the cupboard door bang shut again. She turned back to the sink. “Shit,” she muttered, taking in the broken glass on the floor.

Linford shoved the cushion off of his face and rolled onto his back. The pain in his head burned. “Shurrup.” he shouted, wincing as the pressure in his head swelled. He laid still, his body tense, straining to hear any movement. After a moment, he flung his arm over his face and tried to settle back into sleep.

Amaka cocked her head to one side as silence descended on the kitchen. “Come,” she said to her brother, rising to her bare feet. Her Minnie Mouse nightdress, greying and stretched over her bony shoulder, fell covering her dry knees as she stood up. Amara, still gripping her wrist, half raised from the floor as she pulled her arm upwards, but he didn’t look up. He raised a pudgy finger to his lip and sniffed. “Come, Ama,” Amaka coaxed, gently pulling her arm upwards. Amara, turned his resting head to look up at her and bit his bottom lip. Amaka squatted next to him, and touched her flat nose to his. She pulled back to look at him, her confident brown eyes the twin pair to his fearful ones. “Come,” she ordered with all the six year old authority she could muster. Amari blinked once and uncurled his fingers from around his sister’s wrist. He placed both hands on the floor and straightened his legs before standing upright. Amara’s soiled nappy sagged, hitting each step as his sister, taking his cold hand in her warm one, led him carefully down the stairs.
At the foot of the stairs the heard the faint tinkle of glass shards scraping against the floor. Amara froze and gripped the bannister with his free hand.

“It’s okay, Ama,” his sister whispered, tugging his arm, but he didn’t let go. His bottom lip started to quiver and a silent tear rolled down his snot stained cheek. Amaka pulled the greying sleeve of her nightdress over her palm and roughly wiped his face. Then she bent down, and lifted him up. His chubby arms reached around her neck and he rested his head on her shoulder as she, breathing heavily under the weight attached to her small frame, carried him to the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you come when I called you?” Kemi said not looking up. She swept the remaining shards of visible glass into a pile and stood up to survey the floor, watching carefully for the glint of glass.
“Don’t come in here with nothing on your feet,” she warned Amaka and gestured to her daughter to step back. Amaka edged into the empty kitchen, gingerly sliding out her small foot to test whether it was a safe place to step, and hugging Amara tightly to her body. “What the fuck did I just say!” Kemi yelled, stepping between her daughter and the pile of glass, pushing her back.
The feeling of a presence in front of her made Amaka hesitate. “Mum…my?” she whispered, her small head turning, eyes wide and searching, as she slid her foot backwards. The tiny shard of glass tore across her arch. She screamed and Amara landed with a solid, dull thud on the tiled floor. On his back he began to scream and cry. His blocked nose oozing mucus and the tears caught in his throat, punctuating his screams with curdling silences. Amaka stood frozen in place, her cut foot hovering hesitantly above the ground. Silent tears rolled down her face as her shoulders heaved from the pain.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?” Linford’s face twisted in hatred as he flung himself from the sofa and lurched down the hallway, his fists balled. He halted at the entrance to the kitchen and looked past the screaming baby and his daughter’s bloody foot, settling his eyes on the pile of broken glass. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?” he snarled, spit flying from his mouth.
Amara screamed louder at the roaring of his father’s voice. Kemi froze. “It… it was an acci-”
“SHHHAT UP!” Linford began slapping the side of his own face. SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP,” he shouted at the baby, lunging towards Ama with his hands like pincers.
“DON’T!” Kemi yelled. She threw herself over her son. “Don’t! Please don’t,” she begged, “I’m sorry, please don’t, I’m sorry.”

The change in the air whipped around Linford and he swallowed, hesitating to go any closer to the baby. He stopped, suddenly swallowed by the fear rising inside him. Amara’s cries lowered to a sniffle and the children watched Linford in anxious silence as he swayed on the spot, caught between his rage and this – feeling – that had erected between him and his children. Amaka slowly touched the toes of her wounded foot to the ground. Linford looked at her, at the basement door, then at the baby. His face contorted, unsure of what to do. He jabbed his finger in the direction of the baby and then at Amaka, “Shut him the fuck up,” he hissed, backing, unsteadily towards the hallway, his voice cracking, “you hear me.” Linford turned and quickly shuffled back to the front room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He leaned against it, his eyes wide, heart pounding. He dropped to his knees, body shaking, and grabbed the half full bottle of Corona on the floor in front of the sofa. The lip of the bottle knocked against his teeth.

Amaka leaned down and pulled her brother upright. She tucked her arms under his and lifted him to her chest. He clutched on to her tightly and pressed his face to her shoulder, still sniffling. “Sorry, Ama,” she whispered to him and kissed his head. With tentative steps, Amaka limped across the kitchen to the basement door and pulled the stiff knob. The heavy door hung open and the stench of bloated, rotting flesh gushed over the children. The light from the kitchen sliced across the dark basement, revealing a curl of dark hair matted against the forehead of Kemi’s discoloured and bloating face. One dead, protruding eye stared up them.
“He didn’t hurt Ama, mummy” Amaka called down to the eye. In the breezeless kitchen, Amaka’s hair swayed with the stroke of her mother’s touch.

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Author note {contains plot spoiler}: This one is a work in progress so your feedback is welcome. I’m struggling to draw out the fact that Kemi is already dead and just a supernatural force/ghost that can move shit around. No one can see or hear her and she doesn’t quite know she’s dead. So any thoughts on how to fix that, I’m all ears.

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