Unraveling 2 (Name Your Demon) – Sleeicktales

​Hi everyone,
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. 



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. 

“Career progression.”

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.


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