Mrs Rosalind paced the floor of her living room that night, she was lost in thought. When she finally had to courage to lie down, she left the light on. The names the girl had called reeled again and again in her head.

She could hear Hope Mark's hoarse voice. When She closed her eyes, she could see Hope's sad face turn towards Anthony, pleading. The woman turned, she was facing the window, through a silt where curtains part, she could see stars twinkling soundlessly in the dark unconcerned sky.

"Badmus Kenny, Andy John, Tobi mascot... and John Dike..." she could hear Hope's voice again. "you are next, they want to take you, don't let them... Louise Junior, the shadows..." those were the exact words she told the boy.

Anthony Laurence had looked dumbfounded, Madam Rosalind wasn't happy, but she knew better. Her rage wasn't justified, but anyone who knew what she knew would be somewhere in the zone she was. The girl was listing all the students of Santa Mariah High that had died since 1997. Madam Rosalind remembered those names, their young faces too. Each had been good students; each had been in her music class.

Then there was the mention of Louise Junior... and shadows. Rotten cheery atop the unsavory cake.

She had known Hope to be a good girl-students rarely impress her, but she had-and Madam Rosalind had liked her.

Somethings felt unexplained, Spooky even.

For a girl who spent the night in a school hall, it wasn't hard explaining that she wasn't at the peak of Mount health. She was traumatized. She had sleep walked. She had Malaria, everyone knew cerebral malaria induces hallucinations. Still, there was something unnervingly eerie about it all. All Madam Rosalind needed to see was her lying there scared, surrounded by students who should have known better, then the thoughts came reeling in torrents.

Madam Rosalind had thought of Louise Jr then, when she saw the girl staring into space, no, the thought was actually about how she felt then, that dark day he hung himself, how she was there staring dumbfounded. As if on cue, Hope mentioned Louise Jr and made mention of all those names. 'Spooky' comes close enough.

That was the longest night Madam Rosalind knew ever since the year began. She went back down the living room, got herself a cup of water to drink, few hours later she had to use the bathroom, then back on the bed staring at the ceiling... and the fan rolling...

There, she asked herself the million-dollar question the principal had asked Mama Nosa, and the guards at the gate. A question that Malaria doesn't come close to answering, a question she paraphrased in her own way, "how did she leave the hostel that night and no one noticed?" Mama Nosa and the security guard couldn't give the answer. The security guard was sure that when he checked that morning the gate was still locked from the inside. And Mama Nosa confirmed that she was the one to open the door to her wing that morning. She had the keys with her through the night.

"so you mean she walked through closed doors?" the principal had angrily asked. "is that what I am supposed to believe?" even with all the rage and threats, no one had come up with a working theory yet.

When she got tired of tossing around on her bed, she stood up mustering courage and walked down to the living room. She listened to enya's latest album, while she simply hummed and walked around pondering on the Santiago family history.

The first Santiago to set foot in Nigeria-long before the Marques de Pombal abolished slavery in Portugal, or the American 13th ammendment-was a slave trader. Then came his children after him, one of which bought this land from the local chief who willingly parted with it for a fair price. This land had belonged to the Santiagos long before the royal court of Portugal was moved to brazil in 1807.

Following the decline of slave trade, Santiago Domingo was a member of the clandestine Supreme Regenerative Council of Portugal and the Algarve formed in Lisbon by army officer and freemasons to end British control of the country. Their goal of salvation and independence met a water loo when members of the movement renounced and exposed adherents. Many of those arrested faced execution. Santiago Domingo became a fugitive who ran to Nigeria to rebuild his life again. While the Liberal revolution rocked Portugal in his wake, he began building his manor. He had lived in Nigeria ever since.

Madam Rosalind opened the door to the gallery in the east wing where many paintings hung alongside collections by the Santiagos through the ages. One was the of Dame Angelique Santiago, wife of Santiago Domingo who was rumored to have died of some illness. She was dressed in a blue dress with a pearl pendant nestled on her ample bosom. She was a beauty.

There were paintings regarding the Liberal revolution of 1820s, many reproduction which she acquired alongside originals. She had a copy of Sessão das Cortes de Lisboa a painting by Oscar Pereira da Silva depicting Antônio Carlos Ribeiro de Andrada Macha of the Portugese Nation that approved the first Portuguese Constitution, among other paintings. There were documents, correspondence between Santiago Domingo and the remaining member of the failed movement all laminated for preservation.

There were sculptures too. There were bust of his wife and children all placed side by side, the first son, Carlos Santiago, was the grandfather of Madam Rosalind. Santiago Domingo was ever nostalgic and he ensured the building reflected his Portuguese taste, from his love for flowers and likeness of all form of art, and mysticism as it turns out.

There's a section where there are life size terracotta sculptures spanning the late nineteen and early twentieth centuries, collected majorly from ile-ife, benin, and south Africa. Santiago collected ivories and bronze works, animal hides too, those are now hanging on the walls alongside trinkets and ornately designed calabash.

In his latter life, Santiago Domingo was deeply interested in religion and Spiritism, he built the old chapel and erected a grotto no one prays at, rumor has it that he also took a fascination to the local's idea of magic. He was said to had been initiated to the community with a sacred rite, the first white man to earn that honor, and participated in the annual festivals just as anyone else has right to be, that must have been why he was welcomed among the locals. For a while at least. A short while in which he could build his manor and consolidate friendship both home and away.

If rumors are to be believed, he was also feared by the locals who believed he had inherited some power that came with the land, and when thirty-seven protesting workers instigating riot inexplicably died in the plantation, he earned their mistrust and hatred. He spent his last days alone in his studies in the new found company of a Labrador. He died on the same day it died and at his final request, was buried with the Dog.

Many of his children never returned to the shores of this country, and most had fared well on their own.

The rumor about the said Mystical power still hold sway among the locals who believe the evil runs through their white blood. Her overt gestures in regards to the progress of the community however, has proven time and time again that looking her in her eyes will not magically bend them to her will. She had done much to bring back dignity to her family's name.

She cringed in thought of what would have been left has if Louise had been alive, possibly still hunting for another woman after having Louise Jr with some Marie Laveau she'd only had the opportunity of meeting at the boy's funeral. Ugly business. It was ugly business. Louise Jr's mother, she remembered with shudder, a tall frighteningly huge woman all dressed in black, and threatening voodoo on whoever killed her son. She had to hate Louise over again.

She wouldn't deny days when he would see Louise, just a boy, run around the lawn, with Pa Jacob-just about to enlist in the army-shouting that he should return to his studies. She never witnessed much of Louise growing up after she left the country, but had read letters, received phone calls, they all made her feel like she didn't miss out much. Except of course, she did. She never knew much of Louise, and sometimes wondered if this house would have been fuller, livelier even if falling apart, if she had never left Nigeria and was there to check his excesses. One can only imagine.

The thought of why she had left, gave her a pang of conscience. Again she found herself thinking of certain disturbing events. Somehow she had remembered some sleeping pills she had in her cabinet, she almost ran take them.

The last thought that came to her mind that night, alone on her bed, was the thought of Santiago Domingo, alone with his pet, dying the same day it did. He must have truly been miserable... or poisoned. Whichever way, there was more peace in the horrors of the past, than in anticipating... She couldn't complete the thought. She slept.

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