We’re moving on with the web series by the Sleeicktales team. It is titled “Unraveling” and it will run for about 16weeks, every Monday. That’s four months of cool stuff.
You can follow their works on their site at http://www.sleeicktales.wordpress.com
I would leave you guys to read and enjoy…
And don’t forget to comment and share to others too.
CHAPTER 2: NAME YOUR DEMON
In an altar of delight
A girlbeamed her light
Just to alter her plight
Yet – she sunk in her fright
In an altar of desire
A boy played with fire
Trapped in lust vicious fist
Yet – he sought to escape its midst.
Leah Abba stood at the back of the large hall watching the new arrivals with
fascination. They were a blur of comfortable clothes swarming around the room
searching for seats even though there was more than enough room for everyone. Grey
metal chairs had been arranged in rows on the left and right sides of the room, separated
by large aisle.
They clumped together on one side of the room, lending the place a distinct lack
of balance she found amusing. She watched as they crammed in next to each other,
using the proximity to strike up conversations.
The babies, as she called them, were rowdy. Their noise rose over the room like
smoke that was trapped in by the ceiling.
Up at the front of the hall, the maintenance people pushed hard to finish setting
up the projector before the management arrived.
Leah was a beautiful young woman; petite with caramel skin and large brown
eyes. A small, smile played on the corner of her lips and reflected in her eyes. In her
black hard- rock t-shirt, blue jeans and slippers, a high stack of black folders balanced
precariously on one arm she looked eighteen instead of twenty-six.
Watching the babies, Leah wondered if her own group had been like them on
their first day there. Her recollection of it was hazy. She had been so trapped in her own
misery at being sent here, she hadn’t been aware of anyone else.
“What is so hard about it?” A voice barked. Leah turned in its direction. Selene,
one of the administrative staff stood by the entrance of the hall shouting orders at her
subordinates. They cringed under the force of her wrath and tried to explain but she cut
them off with a wave of her hand.
Selene spotted Leah standing still in possession of the folders.
“Leah, what are you doing? Start sharing them. That’s your job.”
“Sorry,” Leah said and swung into motion quickly. She walked down the aisle
to the front row to the group.
“Hello,” she shouted over the noise.
The group quieted in degrees until the only sound of the maintenance people
hammering something into the wall could be heard.
“Hi, my name is Leah,” she said with a bright smile, her voice dropping now
that the chatter had stopped. “I met some of you earlier. You guys can relax. I don’t
work here. I’m just the house girl,” she said and a few people tittered.
Leah glanced towards Selene and then to the stragglers still standing. “Orientation is
about to start so I suggest you guys all sit. No African time.”
Slowly, they shuffled into motion, obeying. She waited until they were settled
to begin passing out the folders.
“What is it?” a plumpy girl clutching a rosary asked as she collected hers.
“Rules. Schedules. Psychiatrist information. Meal menus. Recreational
activities. Information on things you don’t want to know.”
“Then why do we need it?” the girl asked.
Leah smiled to herself without slowing down. “Because they said so.”
“How long have you been here?”
Leah glanced at young man who’d spoken, reaching for his name. Emeks, she thought,
uncertainly. She’d met him earlier with his friend. Very few people already knew someone
coming in. She imagined it made it easier to deal with.
“Three weeks,” she replied.
“And you’ve gone from patient to worker?” Emeka asked with a huge grin.
She smiled at him, liking him already. “Yes, my mother always told me I was
special. Look at me now, sharing papers to mad people.”
Each orientation a few of the patients were attached to staff and assigned tasks. She had
been attached to Selene this time because her Psychiatrist , Doctor Sulo had thought she would
benefit from it.
“We’re not mad,” a hefty man blustered from behind.
“What’s wrong with being mad?” Leah asked, her eyes amused flitting to him for a
moment. “It makes you interesting.”
She moved quickly, giving out the folders. Once she was done, she returned to the back
of the room and waited. Soon, the heavy doors swung open and a large group entered the room.
Leah knew most of the doctors, at least in passing but she had barely had any contact with the
non- medical staff. They moved down the hall in a flock to the seats arranged for them in the
The orientation followed the exact same pattern that hers had. Selene welcomed them
to the Center and introduced the Center head, Melvin Okinma. Mr. Melvin, he lisped out. He
was a burly man with stern features and deeply graying head of hair. He spoke forcefully,
exacting his authority with each sentence.
“This is not a vacation. It is not a prison. It is not a reflection center. Our job is to help
you heal. Your job is to allow yourself to be healed. Our goal is to guide you through a difficult
but rewarding process. No one wants to examine themselves with a magnifying glass, but I
promise you that if you do, you might find something beautiful inside too.”
Leah had to resist the urge to smile. She might not remember the details of her
orientation, but she remembered his speech. It had been exactly the same, word for word. She
hadn’t believed him the first time, the second time she could hear each point and nuance he
had carefully rehearsed.
She glanced down at the babies, measuring whether they had been taken in by his
speech. A few, she saw, were leaning forward, their entire bodies aglow with hope. A few of
them seemed cynical and removed. But most of them appeared bored, more interested in
examining each other than anything else. Leah did as well, assigning nicknames to them which
she doodled in her notebook. Emeka, she called ‘the joker’. The man young man in his mid
twenties who’d pulled his chair away from the group she called ‘the loner’. The man with his
arms crossed over his chest defiantly she called ‘The Rebel’. The girl who had asked her the
questions, she called ‘the talker’. A teenager who looked lost and about to cry, she named ‘the
baby’. A tall, fair complexioned girl with wavy long hair, she called ‘the mami wata’.
In the next half hour Mr. Melvin ran through the rules of the facility. Each participant had a
personal copy in their welcome packs to follow along.