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Saturday, August 6, 2011

I want nothing



I would gather spittle in my mouth; stretch my hands over my head to reach the coffee stained teacup on the headboard of my bed. My little brother, Kwame always remembered to put the pills under my pillow. Into the coffee stained teacup, I spat. If there was not enough spittle I would gather some more in my mouth, till it was enough for which I could swallow the pills with. No one will come into my room till Sunday night; that is when the pastor said the demons would have left. It was important that I, the possessed, fasted too.

When Kwame left the pills under my pillow he also put a bottle of water by my bed, but my mother came for it. The pastor had said the fasting had to be dry. There were sixty nine male demons and a very powerful queen demon who lead them. The demons had made, my body, my mind and the last particle of food in my teeth their home. I couldn’t be allowed to drink or eat; otherwise my madness will drive me to kill my mother and our last born, Adwoa.

With my spittle, I swallowed the pills. In the night I felt someone looking at me from the window, I knew it was Kwame. He knew exactly when I run out of pills and he replaced it when he thought I was asleep, in the middle of the night, when my dad was snoring. Sometimes he puts a slice of bread under the pillow. When I tried to eat it, I could taste nothing, so I didn’t eat it. I would pick the bread up to my nose and smell it. It offered a different smell from the stench of urine in my room. The piece of bread kept me company, it invited ants. When the ants walked on my skin, I imagined I was earth. When the ants bit me, I believed I was food. I didn’t care what the ants did to me or with me, I was just glad I could feel them.

I started screaming, an ant had entered my left ear. It walked deep into my ear. “Nooooo! Lawd!”, I screamed. My family gathered behind my door, it wasn’t time for them to come in yet, it was a Thursday, they had to wait till Sunday night. My mother was repeating herself, “yesu, awuradi, yesu awuradi yesu…”

My father ordered Kwame to bring his phone. My father became a reporter, “osofo she is having a spiritual attack.., ” “osofo, nobody has touched her ooo, she is screaming” “osofo, she is slapping herself” “osofo her finger in her ear… osofo…”

I heard my father direct my family to move away from my door. He said the osofo said, I was receiving instructions from the demons. He said, the osofo said it was important that they stayed away from me, or the demon would enter another person in the family and multiply.

“Osofo will come in the evening to rebuke and tie the demons up, everybody should go to their rooms”, papa said.

About 3mins later something was dragged on the floor and placed behind my door. I imagined it was the bookshelf as it was the closest heaviest thing by my door. My room became totally dark. The darkness calmed my nerves. Apart from the sound of water, darkness also calms my nerves. The ant had stopped moving in my ears. I wanted to take another pill so I could fall asleep but I had only three pills left. I was afraid I would run out before Kwame could replace it. I wondered if Kwame would go through the trouble of removing whatever my parent had place behind my door to get to my room. I wonder why they thought I would try to get out when I had never tried to; or was it to prevent the demons from getting out of my room?

I remembered one of the poems I wrote when I had the mind to write;

Wants on a Tuesday morning
I want music in a language I don't understand.
I want the possibilities in mystery.
I want the freedom in uncertainty
I want pieces of my forgotten self
I want meaningless laughter
I want nothing

Do demons like poetry? Perhaps ants do… “I want nothing” I yelled anytime I heard footsteps, “I want nothing”. “I want nothing” I began to mumble when I run out of yelling energy. I began to laugh, and then I cried, I cried in my sleep, and woke up to cry.

The thing behind my door was pulled away. A ray of light stole its way into my room. The pastor entered and blocked the light. “I want nothing” I mumbled and then I yelled, “I want nothing”. He started praying in tongues, it was “music in a language I didn’t understand”, I began to laugh, he prayed louder, I laughed louder. I broke into tears, I cried like a little girl. I went back to yelling “I want nothing” but my tears were not ready to dry, I cried some more, anytime I cried, osofo, slapped me, the pastor slapped me with his bible.

My mother began to cry too, osofo shut her up. Kwame tried to hold my hands, I didn’t let him; I was slapping myself and laughing.

8 comments:

  1. The story is interesting. Did u paint the abstract painting that comes just b4 ur post?The story is interesting. Did u paint the abstract painting that comes just b4 ur post?

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  2. nice story bt dnt say it ends there.pls pls cntinue

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  3. :) maybe I'll continue, thanks for reading.

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  4. This is sadly, a common and true occurance. *sighs* please continue the story.

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  5. Thanks, Etoile, for reading and for commenting. I'll continue the story....:)

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  6. yay! *does victory dance* I'll look forward to it.

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