In The Holy Chambers
MWEZI crouched in the corner of her room, her head between her knees. Her shoulders shook
violently as she cried silently. Ever since she was a child, Mwezi had imagined very many different
versions of her life as a young adult but never did she think that at twenty-four her life would be such a
complete mess to the point that even she could not explain what was really going on. Therefore, just when
the shaking of her shoulders ceased and her phone beeped, Mwezi couldn’t help the sad sigh that
escaped her when she saw the name on the text. She gripped the phone tightly and hesitantly tapped on
“Ma'am, its time.” She read the text aloud, paused, and then laughed. Maybe she
still had one thing that went right in her life.
The evening looked as dull as Mwezi felt seated on that black seat. She narrowed her eyes as she
intensely stared at the screen that was in front her. Mwezi watched as Linda grabbed her purse and took
out her phone just on time to receive the incoming call. She silently counted one - three before Linda’s
expression changed from happy to shocked then counted again to three before hearing Linda’s wild wail,
“CUT” She shouted. Linda’s acting of that scene had been phenomenal and with
no more scenes to shoot for the day, not even retakes, the crew packed up and headed back to their
As Mwezi passed by Linda, she made sure to commend her for the good acting before stepping out of
the building. Once outside, the air seemed to shift and so did her mood. The mask of a radiant smile that
had been on her face a minute ago was suddenly replaced by a cold one that betrayed no emotion. She
would have loved to go to her apartment and get cozy with her blanket but no, she had a meeting with a
certain scriptwriter to discuss the next project on her list.
Three hours later, Mwezi smiled as she strolled down the tarmac path towards her apartment. Few
meters from her house, she could hear voices singing. She crossed the road and followed the tiny path
that led her to the voices. She stood infront of a catholic church, one that she used to attend before she
decided that maybe she should stop being hypocritical and be true to herself. After all, she new very well
that the reason she attended mass was nothing close to worshipping and thanking God. As she stood
there lost in thought, a male voice vibrated through the speakers of the church.
"The gospel according to..." Mwezi froze. She had not heard that voice in almost five years and just when she had given up here
he was; Father Petero leading mass. Mwezi's hands started shaking as she clasped her purse tightly.
"The mass has just started." She whispered shakily to no one in particular.
"Didn't grandmother always say that we should always believe and hide
in the power of the holy trinity?"
She shook her head fervently and adjusted her backpack before taking slow steps towards the church. Mwezi smiled as she slowly thought, 'In the name of that father, today I will attend the evening mass.'
even though deep down she understood that this was not what her grandmother had meant when she had
been teaching her about the holy trinity.
As it was a Wednesday, there weren’t a lot of people in the church but Mwezi still ignored all the
empty benches at the center and went for the last at the corner. She gingerly put her bag on the space
beside her and leaned back closing her eyes. Mwezi was afraid. Afraid at what looking at Father Petero
would do to her. Ever since the first day she had seen him at her first mass as a Fresher, her heart never
settled. All these years without seeing him had been torture to her, that is why she buried herself in her
work. Occasionally, she would wish that she had someone to talk to about what she was feeling but she
trusted no one to not judge her harshly. Letting out a sigh, Mwezi sat upright and opened her eyes and
that is when she felt it. The pull. The erratic beating of her heart. She narrowed her eyes as she looked at
his handsome face and frowned. Father Petero literally looked younger, way young than he did five years
ago. After a moment of wondering, Mwezi shrugged and decided that this time she will not lose him.
Father Petero had felt very peaceful as he led mass that evening. The congregation had been jovial
and attentive just as he liked. He was so happy that he couldn’t stop smiling. Even now as he walked out
of the church, he felt elated, well, until soft fingers brushed across his left arm and then he felt him stir.
His smile slowly faded as a frown took form on his face.
“After ten years? Ten good years?” He
mumbled as he hastened his steps towards his Jeep. Today he was not going to stay put and interact with
the worshippers like always. It wouldn’t end well. He had to leave before HE completely woke up.
She frowned as she watched him quickly walk away. ‘What’s with him today?’ Mwezi couldn’t help but
wonder. I mean, for the time that she had known Father Petero, he had never left without interacting with
the congregation outside the church. He always told stories, made jokes, and offered advise but today
something wasn’t right. She had intentionally brushed her fingers against his arm with the hope that he
would turn and look at her but instead he froze. He froze for a second, stopped smiling and quickly
walked away. Mwezi wanted to know why and being the overthinker that she was, she let her thoughts
break her heart. Did her touch repulse him so much even if he did not know her yet? Shaking her head
vigorously, she made her way out of the church and stood staring at the dust left by his retreating car.
Hell no, she was going to show him that her touch could also be nice. That her touch couldn’t possibly
repulse anyone. She made up her mind to prove her thought wrong. It was the only way that the dull ache
in her heart would go away.
150km/h. That was the speed. Father Petero knew the risks of over speeding but he did not care. All
he knew was that he needed to be somewhere far from the rest of civilization as soon as possible. Lucky
for him, the rough road towards his cabin in Nong’ hills has always been deserted. As the temperature in
his car dropped further, he knew that he was almost out of time. How could a creature that lived in a
burning place be as cold as this? He just couldn’t understand.
He panicked as his teeth started chattering. Just as he was about to lose his mind, he saw the cabin
and the tears started flowing. Father Petero parked the glorious black jeep and scrambled out of his car
as he fumbled to locate the cabin key among the many keys in his bunch. Just then his right arm
straightened and became rigid making him stop.
“P, Relax!” A deep, husky voice said. Father
Petero just stood still as he watched his arm turn dark and white polka dots start forming on it. He
opened his mouth to speak but his hand moved to pat his cheek and he frowned.
“You need not fear me. I can’t hurt you.” The voice continued loud and clear in his head. Father Petero snorted. Then he burst into laughter and fell on his knees.
“Not what you showed me ten years ago.”
He starkly replied and the voice laughed heartily.
“Walk into the cabin, P, it is you I am waiting for because it is time.”
Father Petero’s heart started pumping so hard, it was a wonder that it hadn’t pumped out of his body
“What do you mean, ‘It is time’?”
He asked in a hoarse voice that was barely a whisper.
“You will see.” The deep husky voice
silently replied and then went completely quiet. Just then the dots on Father Petero’s arm started fading
and his skin color went back to its original light chocolate shade. Sighing, he stood and walked to his
“All I ever wanted was to be a good
priest, serve in honesty…” He whispered to himself, a devasted look clouding his face.
“…But how can I do that if I can’t even
exorcise my own demons, How can I do that if I am a
monster.” With one violent push, he opened his door, whose hinges made it noticeably clear that they could use some greasing, but Father Petero wasn’t in the mood to think about any of that. All he wanted to do was pass out on his bed, forget he was a priest and forget that the monster in him had resurfaced.
She writhed on the sheets as she felt his fingers slightly trace her thighs and his mouth suck at her
nipple. Arching her back, she grabbed his hair just as his fingers lightly caressed the opening between
her legs. A moan escaped her, and she wanted more. Mwezi wanted his hands and mouth on her as his
hard member penetrated her. She grabbed his hand and directed it to her core which now felt hot. No lie,
she was burning, burning with need, desires. She was hungry. My dears, from a distance even the cat at the window, watching her bed would wonder why she was writhing, moaning, and spreading her legs for no reason. Maybe it was just how humans slept? No, if I met the creature, I would tell it to be on its way and not disturb the woman whose dream was as intense as they came. Anyway, Mwezi lay drenched in sweat as she held tightly onto her blanket while tiny sounds filled the room. Suddenly, she rolled over and fell on the floor with a loud thud. She slowly opened her eyes as she tried to catch her breath.
“A wet dream?” She groaned as her hands
slowly roamed her body to confirm her doubts. Her hands stopped between her legs and she gasped. Her
panties were drenched. Mortified, she covered her eyes with her hands and rolled over. Father Petero had
felt so real that she had a hard time believing that all that was a dream and Maybe she was right. Was it
really a dream? Not able to sleep anymore, Mwezi walked towards her working space and proceeded to
work on a screenplay that she had started a few weeks ago.
“See how badly she wants us, look at
how she would writhe and demand more of us.” Asmodo whispered to Father Petero as he showed him
the image of Mwezi sleeping through the mirror. They had watched as she writhed and moaned, and
Father Petero was shocked that he had a hard-on so painful he ached to touch it but no; according to him
Onanism was a sin and there was no way he was doing it.
Father Petero has always been a jovial and soft-spoken person who always knew what he wanted and
was never side tracked. Even as a teenager, while his friends had girlfriends and had make out sessions in parties, he always stayed behind and read widely on philosophy and theology. Therefore, before today,
Father Petero had never paid attention to a woman in any sexual manner and thus did not experience
Today as he stood watching the woman in that mirror, he felt things he had never felt in the thirty
years of his life. Embarrassed at his own thoughts, he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He was aching
and angry thanks to that monster inside him.
“That’s enough, Asmodo!” He coldly said and he heard Asmodo sigh as his left hand which was dark and polka dotted again like the rest of his
left body, lifted, caressed the mirror and the image was gone. Father Petero vaguely understood that
Asmodo had somehow planted an erotic dream in the woman’s mind, and he did not know how. He could
vaguely remember her from his congregation and that bothered him to no end.
“Asmodo, that woman is an innocent
child of God, you don’t have to mess her up to. I am sure she would like to keep her view of me as the
respected priest and not a man she should show love and sexual attention.”
Asmodo twisted in Father Petero’s body and used part of him to create a clone that merely looked like
a shadow and stood in front of Father Petero. Then he laughed. Laughed and dramatically made as if to
wipe tears from the corners of his eyes.
“Respected catholic priest indeed!! I don’t blame you, but the amount of lust for you in that light touch on your arm was what woke me. It was a light brush but the lust in it was heavy.” Shadow Asmodo said and moved to place a hand on Father Petero, who was surprised that the shadow had some weight on him.
“Do you understand what I am trying to say here?” Asmodo softly asked. Of course, Father Petero wasn’t stupid, he could understand what Asmodo was trying to tell him, but he couldn’t believe it. For all the years he had served as a priest, he had never thought that anyone would look at him and want him for anything other than prayer, advise and confession of sin. I guess, he was oblivious to the fact that maybe there were some who wanted to confess different kind of sins in different kind of ways in different places.
Father Petero closed his eyes and groaned.
“I will let you sleep for now.”
Asmodo said as his shadow glided back into Father Petero through the ears leaving a cold sensation
on his body. As the polka dots and dark color faded from the left side of his body, Father Petero heard
Asmodo’s fading voice say,
“If you don’t believe me, check for her
on Sunday during mass.”
Sighing, Father Petero walked back to his bed and lay on it. He did not want to think about anything
but as he drifted to sleep, he couldn’t help but wonder what Asmodo meant by ‘It is time’.