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 DEAR DAD,
THE JOURNEY SO FAR…
(A collection of Short Stories)

Copyright © April 2024 by Ehimwenma Fortune. All rights reserved.

As with any fictional work, the characters, incidents and dialogue in this medium are product of
the author’s imagination.
Any resemblance to any event or person, living or dead is purely coincidental.
This work is a pure inspiration of The Holy Spirit of Truth, The One sent to abide in every
partaker of the Divine life of God.

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 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My sincere appreciation goes to God, My Father and King, the One who constantly inspires me
to achieve feats beyond reasoning. I will forever serve you with all I have and I am.

I want to appreciate Yetunde Ogunfolu for organising the 30-day writing challenge. It is the first
I will participate in but it has been worth it. Thank you for the training and the challenge. Thank
you for giving me a room to grow. It is from this challenge that these stories stem from.

It has been a whole journey but God has been faithful.

This Story is a combination of Twenty-Nine (29) short stories in total.

Each short story ranges between 500 words to 1,100 words.
I pray as you read, you’re edified, educated and entertained.
Remain Blessed.

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DEAR DAD (An epistolary)

Dear Dad,

Right now, I'm seated with bags of thoughts enough to last me a decade. I am grateful. I am
grateful because of who you have been to me.

I look back and in sincerity, I didn't understand many of the things you did. I didn't understand
why you gave some of those instructions. I didn't understand why you gave those restrictions.
But with hindsight, I find insight.

Your heart was always towards my good. You tried the best you could. When I refused to move,
you moved. You did what needed to be done, neglecting my mood.

I remember the day I found you sitting in the night, bent over the table, a bible, a journal and a
pen before you on the table. I asked what you were doing and you told me 'SECRET PLACE.'

I remember when you took me out to write my first Jamb. Your corrections on the road, your
guidance that looked like unbearable instructions to me were all for my good. I couldn't see
then. But with every day, it gets clearer.

Even as I grow in manhood, I see how tough you were, making some decisions. I now
understand why you sat at home without a desire to eat when you lost your job.

I have heard you warn severally because you can see the future. And just as an experienced chef,
you have tasted so many bad soups you don't want me making another one.

You told me once to do something which I did and it was the opening of my purpose to me.
You questioned my friends in church, flogged me after services at home for being disobedient,
deprived me of certain privileges just to train me.

You don't break a rock using a plastic spoon. It's better to use a sledgehammer and it wasn't
long you unleashed that weapon on this rock.

There were times I felt you didn't understand me, Dad. And even now, I feel same. But all the
same, I have seen a man sacrifice his future for his generation. I have seen a man give his all to
make everything right. I have seen a man stretch beyond his capacity to make ends meet.

You've been strong. You've been resilient, hopeful, courageous and faith-filled.

You failed once, twice, thrice and still found courage to try again.

You fought to break through the barriers. You fought to provide. You fought to train me into a

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son. You fought to teach me responsibility. You taught me how to plan my day. You taught me
how to envision the future and every time I think of my blessings, you hit the list.

I am proud of you, dad. I appreciate the foundation you laid for me. I heard the gospel from
your lips many times till that day when I got convicted. You didn't stop labouring.

You didn't leave me to my foolishness. Thank you for not being an absent father. All that come
from this letter is gratitude because that's all I can write.

Thank you for coming.

God trusted this seed to you and you did all to preserve it.

I pray God bless you dad.

Till I write again.

***

UNDEAD

Warring side by side with Charles always stiffened my spine. He had this grit, this courage that
was second to none. He was fearless. Every time we lined up and the commander told us to
charge, whenever I remembered he was warring with me, I knew no spear could strike my side.

There had been times he found his way around six enemies charging at the same time. His
swordplay was unique. He would hold the handle lightly, swinging and piercing through any
opponent that came close. I stood beside him in many wars and he saved me a couple of times.

Charles had strong instincts. He could guess what an enemy thought to do. He got it wrong
sometimes, but still hit green other times. I wouldn't rate myself strong but to be at the front of
the battle meant the commander thought well of me too.

I fixed my helmet and wore my breastplate. I walked to Charles, picking my sword beside his.

"How do you feel?" I elbowed him.

He shared a cold smile with me and took his sword. "Fine. My arm is still healing though."

"Thank -"

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"Shhh..." He stared at his sword. "Don't mention."

Charles had taken that stab for me. I was down on the floor with my shield far to my right. The
attacker was before me. He gave me a final glance before raising his hand up to slice my arm.
Charles dived and blocked with his shield but still suffered a deep cut from the sword. Charles
quickly sprung up, hit him with his shield, punched his jaw and slid his sword through his
mouth.

I laid right on the floor, dazed as the body fell right beside me.

Charles came close and stretched a hand to help me up. I fought like a wounded lion after that.

Charles was meant to be a commander over another group of army but he rejected the offer.
He said he loved to fight side by side with me. I felt so indebted to him and most times I tried
to repay his acts of favour, he turned me down.

He took more blows for me but I could count how many I took for him - two. I sighed as I left
his sight. I wasn't worthy of a friend like Charles.

We marched to the field with the horns and war cries. I sang with the whole of my heart. We
had learnt that the ones we sang with may not return home with us or we may be the ones to
not return home. If this was the last time I would ever sing this song, I better sing it well.

Charles sang calmly but my voice roared and vibrated. I felt today was the day I would pass on.
I was hearing the thoughts in my head. I was seeing the scenes in my mind. This time, Charles
will not be around to take any blow for me.

He will be by my side but I won't allow him.

We stopped, the other nation on the other plain. We could see their flags from where we stood
and I just stared at the sky. I could hear God calling me home and I was really going to answer.
Charles had to move up in rank. He had his life to live.

The commander over our team addressed us but I paid no attention. I knew the usuals. His
speech didn't provide enough courage anymore for the battles we were facing. We had tougher
enemies with advanced artilleries and weaponry. We didn't need baby milk. We needed words
that could light our tails on fire till we tear the enemy into pieces. But he didn't know how to
upgrade his words to fit the battle.

He was still talking when we started hearing cries from the other end of the plain. They had
started running towards us. He rounded up whatever he was saying and told us to converge into
battle positions.

Not long after that, we were face to face to them and the clanking of metals began. I fought

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with Charles but started withdrawing intentionally. From taking few steps to moving far away.
He was too preoccupied to notice and that was exactly what I wanted. I didn't want him any
close to save me.

If I couldn't save myself on the field, then so be it.

I fought as a soldier that I was, striking, defending, blocking and piercing. I had bruises. I had
cuts but I kept warring. A soldier's knee must never touch the ground. Never.

I was, this time, already metres away from Charles that he couldn't even reach me if I was in
danger. As I kept staring at him performing his maneuvers, I saw a sword strike through his
shoulder from behind.

My heart stopped.

He screamed and quickly pulled the sword out. Another wanted to strike his neck but he turned
swiftly and hit his knee. As the soldier dropped, he gave him the last stab.

I saw Charles slam the ground.

"Charles!!!"

My head rang bells. My hands shivered till my sword fell off. I threw my shield to the left and
ran towards him. As I reached him, I fell on my knees, hitting his breastplate.

"Charles!!!"

He spat blood at my face. I looked at his shoulder and that big hole was there, oozing out blood
generously. Hot tears fell on his breastplate. My heart panted faster than it ever did.

"Leave him and fight, soldier!" Another man screamed behind me.

"You'll join him soon! Grab his sword!"

I was ready to die. I held Charles in my hand, weeping on him. My allies had to drag me away,
forcefully slapping my head and pulling me out of my folly.

I knew nothing else than to cry.

Why didn't I stay close? Just this time, I had betrayed him.

I could hear his voice whisper my name. I was the cause. How will I live with this guilt?

I had to pick my sword. If I was to die, I had to die fighting to enter the paradise. I roared so

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loud, closing my eyes. I turned again towards his direction and to my surprise, he was leaning on
his sword.

***

DARK NIGHT

Remind me never to sleep in this haunted school.

Practicals were to hold in the morning but my group decided to shift theirs till noon. We had
classes that needed our attention and there were no missing those classes. I had no problem
with the idea.

Noon time came and Mr. Johnson, the science teacher we thought was lenient decided to go the
other end today.

"No room to leave my class!"

Since he stuck his feet into the mud, we sat for all classes till past four.

Students started to leave, some with the school bus, others with legs or private vehicles and we
began to reduce in number. I met my group leader to ask about the practical and he was yet to
even get himself. I hurried him to the lab only to find it empty.

"Where are the rest?"

He shrugged.

"Please find them. Hurry!" I slapped his back.

He jogged out of the lab. I knew Joe had his eyes on me and that was a good leverage. I stood
in the chemistry lab, staring from beaker to flasks. Charts hung on almost every part of the wall.
The white board was far from where I stood, making it impossible to read the writings on it.

I waited for half an hour before he came in, looking like a farmer that lost his field to a raging
fire.

"The boarding students want to have their siesta."

"I have to be home by six!"

"For a practical close to three hours? No way." He sat on the stool.

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"Can't we start without them?"

He sighed coldly. "A larger population of us are boarding students. Five out of eight."

I gently slapped my forehead. I looked up to see him gazing at me. I hissed but before I turned,
he held my wrist.

"What?"

"Where are you going to?"

"The hostels. I need to hurry those guys. My parents will -"

"Hush now. You can call them."

"And?"

He stood up. "Tell them you have a practical. I mean, you aren't telling a lie and it's
compulsory."

"Dad isn't going to hear that."

"Well, he has to." He left my wrist and folded his arms over his chest. "You're in your final year.
You're not a kid anymore."

"I'm a kid to him until I gain admission into the university."

"You can change the narrative. And you have to." He handed me his phone. I stared at him
intently before dialing dad's number. I called and with few persuasive words, dad yielded. I told
him he could reach me on this line if he needed to hear from me since he didn't allow me the
luxury of owing a phone.

06:00 PM.

We turned on the lights, wore the hand gloves and adjusted the white lab coats. Joe wore his
glasses and pulled his hardcover note from his bag.

"Here are the samples."

I took note of the reactions, recorded the data and observed the precautions. I also watched
everything everyone did, participating with yawns and tired sighs.

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*

09:15 PM.

It was cold outside the lab. As we got outside with Joe trying to lock the lab door, we heard a
cackle from behind. I thought it was Jude. His lips were sealed. Joe froze with the padlock in his
hands.

We waited.

Joe quietly locked the lab. Down the passage, the lights were turned off - we forgot to turn
them on. The corridor was in shadows and even though it was a road I was familiar with, it
looked all unfamiliar now. I quietly slipped my fingers into Joe's. I could feel his nerve stiffen.

"Guys, it's nothing."

"It's something!" A voice sneered right upon our heads. We ran North, my heart panting like I
had seen a monster.

"Run!"

As far as I could tell, I was running.

I heard the cackling again. My head began to pound. It was getting louder with every minute. As
we ran straight, we saw a shadow cross before us into a class. I saw it. I saw it run across and I
didn't see it alone because we all froze, hitting ourselves from behind.

I heard the cackle now above our heads. I could see the utter confusion in Joe's face. We all kept
looking above our heads, unsure about what to do next.

I saw, in that thick darkness, the shape of an armed man. I tapped Joe's shoulder rigorously,
pointing ahead. He looked towards the same direction and his heated breath kept smashing my
face.

"Let's keep running."

"Towards the man with a club or the voice without a face?"

"We have to choose." Dan whispered.

I choose home then. If we really had to choose, that was the only option on my list.

I could remember dad's words, "when you're lost, find your way back home."

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Back home...

Where was back home?

Which way led back home?

The figure kept approaching us, with a hood clearly above its head and with its hands, armed.

I didn't know the way home anymore.

But I heard a laugh.

I heard a low shrieking sound. I heard whispering voices. I felt the darkness and when I saw the
figure charging towards us, I could only call one name - Jesus!

With that scream, I awoke with sweat and with my arm almost pouring the chemicals away.

Joe looked at me. "Are you alright?"

I took a minute to study the environment. "Sure I am. I'm going home now."

I stood and grabbed my bag.

Once again, remind me never to sleep in this haunted school.

***

ANSWERED PRAYERS?

Tobi knelt down by his bed, hands clasped. His head was bent like he just had a defeat. Tobi
moved his lips, saying nothing in particular except meaningless whispers.

"Lord, please lead me! They are all travelling soon. Seyi is traveling next week. Bukola is done
with her service here in Kaduna. Mary is leaving for her aunt's place this week. Please speak!"

As much as he made those prayers, he was yet to receive any feedback. He kept in touch with
them, hoping, believing, trusting God will speak and he could leave the other two alone. He
hadn't voiced any word of commitment to anyone yet. He was waiting to hear but it was like
God was done speaking.

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Pastor Joe who was also praying with him called yesterday.

"Son, I haven't gotten anything yet."

Were his spiritual father's ears too deaf to pick directions from God? Things hadn't been this
bleak all the while. He told Paul, who confessed he didn't pray as much as everyday concerning
the issue but was yet to perceive anything. It looked like an attack.

They were all God-fearing. His purpose aligned to his best knowledge of them. Seyi was the
only one that had a completely different path but he didn't mind walking down with her if God
gave him the light he wanted to see.

How could God be silent over this matter? Wasn't his marriage as dire as when he was about to
start the youth ministry? He had heard God in the dream, in his heart and even from the
confirmations people gave.

He knew when the time was just right to begin. He began and everything wasn't just
progressing but blooming. And now, for close to three months, one question, yet, God chose to
close the heavens.

He would have filed out for a retreat but whenever it came to the preparation of sermons, he
heard God expressly. What then was wrong? Was there something he didn't know? Wasn't it
time? At Twenty-eight?

He got up after a thought reminded him he could be late for work. Was there a sign God was
giving him? Coincidences? Direction? A quiet nudging? He checked the time before rushing to
the bathroom.

At his work place, he checked his messages and saw responses from Mary. She had replied his
questions about her background with a voice note but he was unwilling to listen to it. Was she
to be the mother of his children as Mary mothered Joseph's?

He turned off his data and sighed deeply.

He sensed a green light for every one of them and he knew something had to be wrong. When
he thought things through, from their character to their purpose to beliefs and mindsets,
humility and also love for God, he found them scoring different marks.

He stopped himself every time from examining the one he would like the most. The difference
between them wasn't even that significant. As long as she was teachable, he could lead her.

Seyi earned more, had her private business and was as ambitious as he was. He only feared there
wouldn't be time to spend with the kids. After much thought, he concluded one would have to

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stay at home to be with the kids.

Bukola had a heart any man would love to have beside himself. She was pure, beautiful and
humble. Never had he seen a woman with such character. With her heart, he knew she would
eventually get everything right. It was just a matter of time.

Mary was the woman he needed for life over spiritual battles. Her sensitivity to the spirit realm
was ashamedly more than his. She could discern and never hit a miss. Having such a woman
meant life would be a hit-and-score ride.

He never compared any. Each had their strengths and areas they needed to still improve on. Seyi
was the only one who had asked him what he wanted from her. He told her friendship was his
intention but explained things could change any time from that day.

She just wanted to know, she wasn't pushing him away.

Seyi could think of four ideas at once. The only limitation she had was that she was in one body.
She saw an opportunity almost in every problem.

Tobi had chosen to wait for God's leading. He waited for Him to speak. When Bukola asked
him for his status and he said he was single, she took time to pray for him. To pray for a godly,
supportive and submissive wife and he didn't know if she was just the one.

He wasn't this confused when he had to make other decisions. He didn't just know. Wasn't God
supposed to pick his wife for him? Whenever he prayed about three of them, which was one act
he never thought he would be involved in, he didn't hear a 'No' or a 'Yes' and that was
completely strange to him.

Was God going to choose his wife for him? He had heard stories of God doing such for others.
How did He choose for them?

He had heard stories of those who saw their spouses in dreams, married and had to divorce in
three months. Didn't God lead them? He had heard others hear from God, married and...
words couldn't tell the aftermath.

Was God's silence speaking volumes already? Did God mean he could go with any of the three?
Was he looking for a name whereas God had given him options?

Were they God-fearing? Yes.

Were they purposeful? Yes.

But who was the perfect rib? Didn't God match ribs anymore? He dropped his head into his
palms, confused. He started to replay his discussions with the three of them. He started to
think: which one would be his best choice?

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Which would also desire to do life with him, by his side?

Which was more willing?

He heard a knock.

"Please come in."

The door opened and he gasped.

"Bukola?!"

She was holding a cup well wrapped in her left hand and a nylon in her right.

"Good afternoon. I just came to check on you."

"You left your shop?"

"Yes. I thought you would be too busy to get yourself something to eat."

Bukola had her shop few metres away but she had never reached his office. Once in a while, he
branched her shop to greet while returning from work. He stood and gently told her to come
in.

As she sat, he asked himself, "Could this be the sign or was this just an act of kindness?"

***

SILENCED

I kicked the stone before me, pushing it ahead of me repeatedly. It was a moonless night and
the clouds had started to gather. The cold breeze ran the hairs on my skin to their feet. I held
both elbows, crossing my arms against my chest, humming gently.

Kelly and I had dispute again. This time, she was the one at fault. She had intentionally used my
charger to charge her phone while I was away, knowing my own battery was also flat. She didn't
even care.

So much for plugging in her house.

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I had waited for five hours, smiling in the ecstasy of a fully charged phone only to meet fifteen
percent. And hers was full! What selfishness! She couldn't even allow mine a fifty percent mark.

If God was trying to teach me patience or forbearance or anything, I'd have to re-sit the test
because I really failed. Her mum had to plead with me. I almost hit her face because she didn't
even see anything wrong in what she did. Girls could be so mean, foolish and annoying at the
same time.

My hands dropped and I fixed them into my jean pocket. The wind wrapped itself around me
and I longed for home. I increased my pace, glancing at my back from time to time. Mum must
not know I left the house not to whisper dad. It was past eight and I was walking alone, not
even with my younger brother.

It was frustrating to know that the purpose I risked my life wasn't even achieved. I kicked the
rock before me with a little more strength which sent it flying over the tarred road till it hit a
wall and rolled a few metres. I couldn't take the long route. I had to take the alley. It was a
creepy path but I would get home faster.

I stopped at the junction and sighed. "God help me."

As I looked straight, no one else was on the street. Why people had retired to their beds early I
couldn't tell. I kept humming my song, walking hurriedly this time. It was one long, narrow
street with one weak street light by the right, next to the gutter. There was only one little shade
to hide in, formed by the extended roofing of the house to the left.

I glanced at my back, humming my song and searching the sky. Three birds flew above me. I
paused and looked behind. I heard no voice but felt I was being followed. I resumed walking
after clearing my doubts. I heard a low sound from behind like a pained grunt. I increased my
pace, pulling my hands out of the pockets to run. I heard footsteps behind me and quickly
docked into the shadow the extended roof provided.

I saw two men stagger into the street. One was holding the other by the neck of his shirt,
pulling him aggressively. I watched him manhandle the other, slapping him badly and striking
blows at him.

"Stop!" The other man yelled but the possessed man kept throwing punches, weakening him. I
felt like coming out but what could I do? Scream and alert no one?

He hit the other man's jaw with his elbow, throwing the man down.

"Get up, moron!"

"Stop... Stop... hitting... me..."

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"Shut up and get up!" He stood next to him, his feet directly at the head of the other man. My
mind was racing. My heart was thudding. I didn't just have the courage to act. I only stared well
enough to recognize his face.

When he saw the other man wasn't willing to stand, he pulled a pocket knife from his pocket.
The other man saw him and spat blood. I felt blood in my mouth.

"You taking vengeance," the man turned and now laid on his back. "on the wrong guy."

"I decide who is the right or the wrong guy."

"No..." The guy spat blood. "Don't kill me. I've told you I don't -" The one standing kicked his
face. He coughed, spat and groaned loudly. He rolled twice and screamed.

"Help somebody!" He screamed.

"No one is coming to help." The other man said in a singsong. He squatted beside the man. I
felt he was calling out to me. I didn't just know what to do. I placed my right hand on my chest,
closing my eyes.

I opened them when I heard him scream. "Leave my ears!!"

"Easy now..."

The man struggled to be free from his grip but it was a tight hold. He cut the first ear. The man
cried like a baby. He was backing me so I couldn't see where he was cutting again. But I could
hear the man cry. I could see him wrestle faintly, life gradually leaving him.

My eyes were red shot with pain and anger. My hands were vibrating. What did he do? I don't
know how many minutes they stood that way but it lasted a while with the man crying, his voice
dieing down gently.

It wasn't until I heard the man give a sharp shout followed by a sudden silence. I waited. The
man stood straight after a few seconds. He cleaned his hands and spat on the body.

The man remained still, not moving, not crying.

The other man gently walked to the entrance of the street, looked sideways and went his way. I
didn't know what next to do. Someone might be watching from anywhere. I didn't think so. I
stepped out and wanted to tiptoe to him to confirm his death but I ran home instead, fear
holding my right hand.

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 ***

A FULFILLED DESIRE

Whenever I saw Christian walking in the realm of the prophetic, there was something that
always burned from my bowels. I didn't want to give it a name but I knew it bore no good
wishes. Christian was a young, slim and dark man with a little beards and a wide smile. We grew
up together as childhood friends and started to discover we also had passion for ministry.

Ministry in the sense that we know it as.

He loved to lay hands on people and something always happened. He made statements that
eventually came through. He prayed for healing one day for a woman and she said she was
getting better at the spot. I wouldn't have been cursed with hate if the same things or similar
experiences happened to me.

All I knew to do was to teach. Talk and speak and share experiences void of power. I was the
Excellency of speech, Christian was the Power of God. It was like he was The Christ, I was The
Baptist.

In few meetings where we were privileged to minister together, I would try stirring the
atmosphere to pick something spiritual but... Nothing. Just nothing.

I would end up teaching and then leaving the stage for him to do his power thing. People
reverenced him more. I know my heart is dark but... who else can I tell but you?

Christian kept holding on to his humble clothes, refusing to bulge to the praises but soon, it
started disturbing him. It was the ease at which he walked in those gifts that marvelled me. I
started to pray for those gifts too. I prayed from any and every motive. I just wanted to see
things happen in my meetings.

I was called too. And I prayed too.

A few times I spoke with Christian, he tried making me feel better, telling me my teaching was
really structured but anyone could teach. I didn't even teach very well. Not everyone could walk
in power but everyone could teach. I mean, if you knew stuff, all you had to do was to pour
them out.

Knowledge was key to being a teacher. Most of the things I taught weren't even working in my
life yet. I left some meetings with a bitter taste of condemnation in my tongue. Walking in
power was easy and seeing things were too easy for Christian and whether it was an impartation

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that made it so or a revelation, I desired same. I wanted to call down the move of The Spirit
too.

Don't blame me. Don't you also have that same belief ?

In a meeting where the man of God teaches alone and another comes with the power of God,
revealing situations, spitting fire and stirring the hearts of men, who would you call anointed?
Don't try to make me feel better. The second is your first choice.

I fueled my desire in a bit to discover what it really meant to walk in those things. Pride
wouldn't allow me tell Christian to show me the way. If he could find it, then I could. He wasn't
superhuman. I studied behind him every night, I increased my prayers.

Since scriptures said whatever I asked believing, I'd receive, I began questing with all desire in
my heart. I would ask till I received. I would knock until this door was opened.

The door flung open one fateful day. I felt something enter into my spirit. I felt like an upgrade.
I told Christian we ought to organize a small prayer charge. He agreed with me because,
ofcourse, it was another time to shine.

To be plain, I don't know what was always in his mind. I don't even know if he was really proud.
We didn't discuss to that length. We only thanked God for the meeting then he'd return to his
place and I'll return to mine. I don't know the thoughts in his heart, do I?

We organized this meeting, invited youths, pushed publicity, mobilized a team and finally youths
turned up. I know some came because of him but... it's alright.

I prayed and started taking the teaching as usual. I was waiting for a sign but since I saw none, I
decided to stir the waters. Christian always said he waited for a sign before beginning those
strange operations. I saw no sign so I started to chant. I started to stir the atmosphere. I had to
see something and say something and pour something on these people.

The anointing was the power to do God's work and I had it upon my head.

After hitting the door consistently, I perceived something and began to speak. I stretched my
hand. Nothing as usual.

I went to the other corner of the auditorium. Shame didn't allow me back off. I kept repeating
the words again. I stretched my hand again, same result. Probably Christian was waiting for me
to come down. I glanced at him and he was praying. Praying for me? I screamed so loud and
stretched my hand. Finally, a lady fell by my far right.

"Yes!" I screamed and dropped the mic immediately, leaving the podium with a grim face of
achievement.

19 | P a g e
Christian rode on that charged atmosphere and did no less than his usual outstanding feats.

I returned home. Christian had hugged me and prayed over me. Maybe he was sincere. I had no
appetite to eat. Probably God did what he did so I won't be ashamed. I was although grateful. I
laid to sleep but found it hard to sleep.

For Seventy-five minutes, my eyes were wide opened on the bed.

Strange.

I looked to my right and I saw a human-like figure, seated at the corner of my clothes with
folded arms and a disgusted look. I screamed so loud, squeezing the bed spread. I couldn't get
up from the bed. I felt my leg burning and squeezing at the same time.

I tried to call my Saviour's name but I didn't remember how it was spelt anymore.

It didn't leave where it sat. It crossed its arms, revealing its hatred by the stinking look it gave
me. I could see the being even in such darkness.

I don't know if Christian experienced this whenever those things happened in the meeting but I
think I'm done.

I can't write in details, the things that happened that night. I was hypnotized, paralyzed, weak,
dumb, in space... I was not myself.

I have come to learn many things. And I hope when I come to read this write-up again, I'll
smile and thank God because I'd have grown.

I closed the diary and fixed the pen beside the book.

***

A THIRSTY CUP

The white painted room was beautified with flowerpots and royal blue cushions to complement
the blend. They entered the room, whispering prayers at the entrance, Philip's hand still on the

20 | P a g e
knob.

"We forgot to turn off the lights." He muttered after the prayers.

She scoffed, walking towards the kitchen. "It's funny how you use we for something you did."

"Me?" He paused midway to the room.

"Who left the house last?"

He shook his head, finding his way into the room. He returned few minutes after with his
singlet and shorts. He held his phone, gently lowering himself on his favourite couch.

"Coffee please."

"Go to the restaurant. I'm not a waiter."

He laughed. "My gold, please coffee."

Tumblers made their sounds in the kitchen, leaving Philip to guess if she was on his request or
otherwise. She bulged out of the kitchen with a cup and a black flask. She kept them at a
distance from him, sitting beside the duo.

"I'm not..."

"Compel me to bring it to you. Nothing good comes easy."

"What? Tonight?"

She folded her legs and crossed her arms.

"Okay," he pushed himself forward. "Can I have my coffee?"

"You're going to spend a long time asking for it."

"You know I'm stressed..."

"I'm too stressed to bring it to you too."

She didn't just know when to pull off her jokes.

"I'll come get it myself. Is that fair enough?"

"No." She cuddled the cup and hid the flask behind her chair. "You have to make me bring it to

21 | P a g e
you. Else, I'll drink your coffee."

"Phoebe."

"Yes?"

"I'm really not in the mood."

"Forget your coffee then."

Philip rested his back and smiled. He stared at the wall holding the photo of their wedding
picture. He stared at another. She was still fair and plump, smiling with her hand on his chest,
standing behind him on a chair.

Memories filled him of months he spent knowing and liking her. Climax happenings also
brought smiles to his face. She had grown in some areas, he had learnt to put up with some
things, few months into the bliss and they were doing well. Or so he thought.

She was waiting and he was remembering. He stood up and pocketed his hands. She had fixed
her eyes on the window, looking at nothing in particular but the curtain. He took steps till he
appeared before her. He felt her chin and turned her face to his.

He squatted in front of her, staring deep into her eyes. He could see his reflection through her
eyes. She tried hard not to smile and she was keeping well.

"You keeping your smile?"

She tried turning her face but he kept her chin fixed towards him.

"Same smile you couldn't keep after our first kiss."

"What first kiss?" She revolted.

"Look at you," he cackled. "You haven't forgotten, have you?"

"You've forgotten how you almost -"

"Shhh... Don't remind me." He placed his finger on her lips. "I still like your lips you know."

"Don't remind me."

"I will." He moved closer and planted a kiss on her forehead. He sat on the arm of the chair,
running his hand through her hair. "You made me spend several nights in the clouds, dreaming
and longing to see you."

22 | P a g e
She turned away.

"You made me feel incomplete the days we had disputes. I could spend whole days with you
without feeling hungry."

"You blessed my heart and gave me joy. Peace was your aura and every time you appeared
before me, psalms and praises filled my lips."

"Philip," she turned to him, "you rarely say these words to me anymore."

"But you know I love you."

"How can I know if you don't tell me continually?"

"Babe." He kissed her forehead again. He stood up and pulled her gently with her hand. She
succumbed reluctantly, standing opposite him with her face away.

"Don't turn your face from me," he said, turning her face to look at him. She looked down with
tensed breathing. "Phoebe, you're a song that sings in my heart every morning."

"But you don't let the lyrics out of your mouth."

"When I awake, you are asleep. It's for the family, you know." His lips touched hers. He locked
his fingers in hers. "I do not have the time. I wish I do."

"Make time, Philip. Make time else the heat of our relationship will grow cold and so irritable
you'll have to spit it out."

"Like the coffee?"

They glanced at the coffee. The cup was now beside the flask. "Yes. Like the coffee." She
whispered. "Pour your words into me. Let the sweet tea of your lips leave your flask to my cup.
That's where I need it to be. Stop keeping it in you. Stop -"

He silenced her with a stroke on her arm. She sighed deeply, her breath smashing his chest.

"I won't anymore. I promise."

Philip spent the next hours pouring into her while she just laid her head on his chest, listening.
It was a night to remember. A night to drink from the flask of words he had locked.

***

23 | P a g e
A LITTLE NEGLECT.

It was night but Jessica was still awake, laying on her bed with her phone on her belly. She
checked the chat again, opened his profile and checked his picture. She stared for minutes
before being pricked by her conscience.

She reluctantly minimized the app and locked her phone with a disturbed sigh. It was a strange
feeling but she couldn't deny the tangibility of it. When it started at first, she fought and strove
to kill the thought but after persisting with several subtle proofs, she began to yield gently.

Whenever he preached on the altar, she would feel her heart burn, not with the fire of the word
but the fire of her love.

It was strange having such feelings for a man.

She turned to her left, facing the window and staring far into the stars above. She could feel her
desire rise as she kept her mind fixed on him. Wasn't this an ungodly desire?

The first day he would counsel her without his wife beside him because she had to attend to
some other things, he made her feel so home and secure. She opened up to him and with
wisdom and maturity, he provided solution. He told her what to do. She asked him to pray for
her and he did without holding her hands.

She had left, disappointed.

She didn't want to ruin his destiny or ministry. She wasn't the devil but she felt he ought to have
married her. Jessica wasn't concluding his wife wasn't the best match for him. She was only
thinking she would have been a better substitute. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

This was an ungodly feeling. How could she desire her pastor as husband?

He was married. Was she wishing his wife death?

God had to take this feeling. He only ticked all her boxes of a perfect man. Tall, spiritual, dark,
wealthy and grammatically sound. He was jovial, sincere and generous. He was a man that
preached even with his lifestyle.

He spoke like he loved her every time he advised her. He didn't use endearing words but he was
too loving to be true. Pastor John was in his early 30's with a message of hope and purpose and
whenever other sisters wanted to see him, she felt jealous.

24 | P a g e
This was an ungodly feeling. How could she be angry members wanted to see their pastor?

On her birthday, he called in the morning and prayed for her. Her heart sank into a pool of
emotions. It was a stab to her heart when she realized he always called every member
celebrating their birthday. She thought she had a special place.

She still didn't shake the thought off. He didn't show any sign of interest in her but it was
probably because he had many sisters around and was married.

This was an ungodly feeling. How could she craft a special place for herself in his heart?

Fantasies. Maybe she was just dreaming of him.

She had two proposals in hand but didn't even consider any of them. She never even prayed
about them and yet they hoped to get a positive result. It was as though an agama lizard was
proposing to a shark. Could they ever be joined together?

This was an ungodly feeling. How could she because of one man undermine another?

Pastor John's wife again wasn't even a woman that supported his ministry. In months now, she
had begun drawing closer to them and could see more into their lifestyle. She wasn't a helper.
She was just a woman trying to stick around for a while.

She wasn't condemning her but she believed she was a better option.

Again, this was an ungodly feeling. How could she judge another woman and esteem herself
better in a position God didn't place her?

She sighed.

She pulled herself up and rested her back against the wall. These could not be her thoughts.
How come? How did she get this deep?

She drew close to them to really learn. To know about marriage and serve them. Was it? Yes.
She could remember... No... Yes... She didn't do it to judge his wife. She respected her.

She shook her head. How did she come this far?

"Lord help me. Help my mind..."

She had allowed her thoughts go wild.

"I'm sorry Lord..."

25 | P a g e
She probably just saw him as a model. He was young yet impactful. That was the kind of man
she wanted to marry. Not Pastor John himself. She hadn't attended to the proposals because she
didn't perceive God leading her towards that direction.

They weren't lizards.

She gently placed her right hand on her temple. There was war in her heart.

'No... I want to marry him.'

'No... I don't. He is married.'

The thoughts kept pushing the door of her heart, knocking and forcing themselves through the
gates. She dropped her head into her hands.

"Guard your heart with all diligence..."

She lifted her head up and grabbed her bible from the table. The verse should be in Proverbs.
Proverbs chapter 4. She found it in verse 23. She didn't guard her heart.

She felt she needed to wash her mind by the word and what it says. She understood she was
only cleansed by the word. She had allowed the devil suggest things to her, forgetting that not
every thought that enters and knocks on her heart is hers.

The devil could plant ungodly thoughts and it's her duty to pull them down by the knowledge
of God's word she now has. She took her bible and began praying in the spirit.

Next time, she would man the gates of her heart and be careful what she allows stay there.
Thoughts may come, thoughts will go but thoughts that were never acted die unborn.

This was a godly feeling since she had decided to war against the thoughts that wrestle against
her mind.

***

A STRANGE COMPANION

For the first time in twenty years, his eyes met mine. He kept looking for minutes before closing
his eyes, rubbing his eyelids and opening them to see my eyes fixed on him. He yawned, wearing

26 | P a g e
a suspicious look but I remained steadfast like I didn't feel uncomfortable with his stare.

I held my sword firmly, turning to look around. Was there something that kept him afraid? He
stared from my head to feet and back before rising. I somehow feared he could now see me. I
looked away and returned my gaze to him. He was still staring at me in the eye.

Did humans now have the ability to see spirits?

As he walked out of the room, I followed him. He went towards the living room and then
paused, turning to look at me.

"Who are you?"

I didn't need to reply. He was probably still dreaming. I stood as straight as I could, finding it
difficult to understand anything yet.

"Can't you hear me?"

"I can."

"You aren't responding."

"Can you now see me?" I asked perplexed.

"Now see you? Have you always been here?"

"Since your birth."

"Excuse me." He walked through me. He gasped before turning slowly to look at me. He
pointed his index at me, shaking.

"Don't be -" I tried to muster.

"Who are you!"

"I am surprised you can see me."

"I don't understand."

I knew humans could get triggered to feel a hundred emotions when strange things happen. I
was here to help Ben, not scare him. Yeshua probably had a hand in this. Whatever He was
doing, it was for His glory.

"I can't tell you my name."

27 | P a g e
"Why?"

I stared around, refusing to speak.

"Don't follow me if you ain't saying your name."

"I'm sorry I have to."

"No. You won't."

"I have been doing this every day."

"Then you stop today!" His voice hit the building. He glanced behind and quickly turned, still
holding his index at me. "Stop following me."

"I was ordered to follow you. I don't take orders from you. I take orders from my Creator"

"Your Creator? Who are you? Some sort of an angel?"

"If you say so, yes."

He walked away and wherever he went, I followed.

Pending the day of his repentance and salvation, I had been watching him. My eyes never slept
on him. Yeshua always reached him through me. One question bothered my mind: why did
Yeshua open his eyes to see me? Did I need recognition from an unbeliever? It would never
turn out well. He wouldn't even appreciate whatever I did.

As he dressed, hurrying to wherever he was going, I stood few metres, watching him.

After I watched his script unfold, I knew there was profit in this piece of clay. His destiny was
very important just as every life mattered to Yeshua. I searched diligently for the day he would
choose to repent. I longed for the day he would choose life and not death.

He wore his sandals and stood.

"Don't follow me."

"I don't take orders from you."

He tried hitting me but only punched the air, glistering stars whooshing into the air.

"You're going to ruin everything!"

28 | P a g e
"Ruin what?"

"Everything! Stop following me!"

I gave no facial reaction. As he left, I followed, looking over, sensing the environment with my
heightened abilities, watching over the young lad as he strode through roads and streets into a
room. It was a single room and I only sighed.

I knew what he came for.

"Clara."

The lady, sparsely dressed, appeared with a smile. She was approaching him before he stopped
her.

"Not now. Can you see the guy behind me?"

"See who?" She folded her arms.

"Him." He pointed towards me.

"You are seeing spirits?" She mocked, walking closer and throwing herself on him.

"You can't see him?"

With every glance I took at him, he looked confused. I didn't like how he felt but I couldn't help.
I kept watching, knowing what he intended to do. Whenever he did what was wrong, I drank of
the pain Yeshua felt.

"There's no one beside you. Have you encountered a demon spirit?" She placed her palm on his
cheek. He dropped her hand.

"He looks white and," he turned to look at me, "kind of sent. Talks of one Creator."

"Where is he now?"

"Right beside me staring at you." I was indeed staring at her.

"Neglect him. He isn't going to cause any harm is he?"

"No... Not really. But I don't feel comfortable."

"Because of a spirit?"

29 | P a g e
"Don't you get? He's watching over me like right now! You don't expect me to pull of my
clothes knowing someone is watching."

She stood up and sat on the chair opposite his direction. Before she said another thing, he stood
up.

"I have to leave now." He left unlike other times.

I think I now understood why Yeshua opened his eyes.

***

TRAPPED

Although, the chemistry teacher had warned us not to look into that page but that was the only
page that held my gaze. It caught my whole desire. After I asked why, she turned, pulling her
glass down the neck of her nose to have a better view before shaking her head.

"Don't ask why."

We finished the class and I felt the quest still hitting my heart loudly. There was a secret formula
to travel through your mind to places and not literally appear there? How?

Ms. Clara explained that it was no dream. It was a life experience. If the right chemicals where
conjured as stated in that book, I'd reach that portal and would be able to see and experience
the beauty of other worlds. She spoke with so much conviction I believed she had had an
experience herself.

After she caught my unusual gaze, she froze and stopped talking about the things we were likely
to see but for me, my curiosity just began. Others thought it a fable, I knew it was real. Not with
so much evidences she gave.

I waited behind in school. Students kept leaving the premises by the minute and I just sat down
with a novel, fantasising. Where would I like to go? The U.S. Yes!

I would stare at those wonders in awe. I smiled but quickly frowned. How would I remember all
the additives she said she added to the concoction? I zipped my bag in search of a book and
started to pen down the solutions.

30 | P a g e
Methotrexate (IV) bentonite.
Elixiry.
Vinylsodium (III) aluminum oxide.
Purifier.
Soda lime.

And... Yes. Dried yam peel. Yuck!

Ms. Clara said she relived her past experiences and settled things and surprisingly, when she
interfaced the same people after returning, they reacted based on the changes she made in that
medium. I needed to undo many things I had done. I had broken Jerry's trust. I had lied against
Tiolu.

While I tried to console myself and to provide a noble reason for my escapade, a part of me
judged me. My intents weren't all right. I just wanted to see if it was true. Was it possible to
travel in your sleep to a premeditated place at will and then conjure things to happen in
response to your actions in that state?

How beautiful it would be to manipulate things in your favour!

I waited for time to roll to night. The securities kept an eye on me and I outrightly told them I
had a practical to carry out alone. They'd never heard of that before so I explained it was an
assignment I had to carry out... more like a project because it really was a project.

The man asked who demanded such an assignment and I told him it was personal. He made
some calls and he was only told to warn me from destroying the lab at night. I vowed to do that,
ready to bear the consequences of any mishap.

I entered the lab and bolted the door.

I had first walked to the library to get the book she spoke about. It took hours finding it where
she had placed it at noon. Page 102.

It was with a funny font but here's what it read:

"It's a sleep that makes you slip into the world of possibilities. Rewrite every moment. Relive
every ecstasy. Feel the love again and correct the mistakes."

My eyes were almost bulging with tears. With shaky hands, I ran to the chemistry lab where she
had pointed to a blue liquid in a test tube and an orange mix in a conical flask.

I headed to one of the bunsen burners on the table, turned on the gas and lit it.

I took the page and ingredient by ingredient, I added.

31 | P a g e
I followed every instruction to the letter. The only additive I couldn't add was the dried yam
peel because there was none in school. Could that cause too much harm?

I was asked to drink it steaming so I boiled it and gulped the whole mix down. It boiled my
throat down to my navel. I shivered gently and waited.

Five minutes later, nothing.

Ten minutes, nothing.

I hissed and rinsed every beaker and instrument I used. I took the book and walked to the
library to return it. I yawned. I decided to sit on the chair. I yawned again and rested my head
on the table.

I opened my eyes and I was in the U.S. really.

I walked on the street. I stamped my feet and looked around. It was so much beauty. I could see
everything real - the people, vehicles and stores.

Where did I want to go to?

I was filled with so much joy my heart panted. I walked into a restaurant, staring at the
splendour and originality. I moved from counter to counter, in smiles. I folded my hands.

I would go to change many experiences, starting with the one with Jerry and Chloe. I didn't
even know how to move from one experience to another.

Wait.
I didn't even know how to go home.
It was then my smiles died instantly.

***

THE MAN IN MY DREAMS

There have been nights when I sleep to wake with my sheets soaked. I have seen nights where I
raise my head, panting like I was indeed in an hot chase because I really was in one.

I didn't know the nights he chose to visit but it was the same man, in the same clothes but with

32 | P a g e
different encounters and scenarios. Whenever I met him in the dream, I would experience a
similar occurrence in my day.

There was a dream where I saw him chasing me for a black book in my palm. I never got to see
his face but I experienced every of his chase. It was a long run like that of subway surf only
that it was a dark street with dull street lights, parked cars at both sides of the roads and a scary
background.

I didn't know why I ran with the book but I believed it contained secrets. I believed it was
valuable to me. I saw it as a responsibility so, I ran with it. He chased me for over an hour and I
kept running non-stop.

I ran out of the dream, raising my head in dripping sweat on my face down to my cheek and
bare chest. My heart was panting loud in my ears. I could really feel the tension. I glanced
behind to see if he'd followed me to my room but it was just the white wall.

That selfsame day, Joshua pursued me for my textbook but I didn't hand it over. He chased till
he got tired. I saw no correlation that day until I reached home and was on my bed that I
remembered the dream. I felt a cold, eerie feeling wrapping its arms around my face. I felt like
running from my room.

In another dream, I was talking to a lady on a seat and I just turned to greet a friend. By the
time I turned back to discuss with her, it was the man again. He was seated with his head bowed
down. I screamed and took to my heels but this time, he didn't chase me. He only laughed
hysterically and that fear sent me running for minutes, afraid to check behind.

That selfsame day, I sat on the edge of Bisola's seat, talking to her. I turned to greet Tunde and
after we shared in our laughter, I turned to see Joshua, seating on the seat where she was, his
head bent over. I jacked off from the seat. He laughed and when I searched around for Bisola,
she was out of sight.

I began to wonder if I ever spoke to Bisola at all or it was Joshua all the while.

The third memorable dream I can remember was the one where I saw him reading a book from
afar. I didn't come close. I studied him, wondering what he was studying then in a split second,
he raised his head and fixed his stare at me. He didn't change his gaze for a minute and I started
to draw back. I kept drawing back until I ran out of sight. This time again, he didn't follow me
but I woke up with a shaking breath, a banging head and a trembling body.

That selfsame day, Joshua was unusually reading outside, sitting on the edge of the tiled floor,
his legs hanging down. I stood at the corridor, watching him and suddenly, just as if he knew I
was watching, he raised his head up to stare at me. I took steps behind me till I entered my class.

I started to believe Joshua was the ghost in my dream. Maybe he was the one the ghost used to

33 | P a g e
perpetuate his intentions.

This night, things got worse.

My heart is beating really fast. I am about to pee.

I woke up to a more confusing dream. This same man came as a visitor. I was eating supper
with my family and then he came, knocked and dad, surprisingly opened for him. I fell like a
pack of cards. He shook hands with dad and it was like they didn't see him for who he really
was.

He sat with us at the dinning table to eat with us. He ate, never taking his eyes from me. He
dipped the fork into his yam and ate it, staring at me all the while. The chills I felt prevented me
from gripping my spoon. I eventually left the dinning and ran to my room in complete fear. I
bolted the door and held my knees to my chin, shaking.

I heard a faint knock on the door. I sprang from the dream, drenched in my own sweat.

I looked around with paced breath. I paid attention and discovered the knock was from
downstairs.

The last I could recall before sleeping, dad was home, mum was cooking, I have no sibling, who
then could be knocking?

***

A DOUBTING HERO

They told her she was chosen but she never felt she was...

Her mates rallied the table with plastic plates containing white rice and a lavish amount of red
stew by the side. The hall was no different from a market. People were on the queue,
clamouring for grains while some that had finished theirs lined up for more spoons.

The environment was tense and noisy. Different students scattered around the hall, each
moving towards a different destination. The few that were seated where engaged in discussions.

Some guys banged the table several times, wanting to be heard. Youths spoke while eating.
During lunch, teachers avoided the hall. It was one place laws could be violated at will.

34 | P a g e
Tiolu tapped her arm. "What's up? You aren't eating?"

"The food will get zapped up in a minute." Another said from her table. Laura stared at the line
again. The guys outside the lane kept pushing the legal ones, trying to force their way through.
With every person that left the queue, they forced their chance. Some ladies left the lane,
sneezing and coughing, tapping their chest.

She didn't want to eat not because of the queue. Something made her thirst for more. She didn't
feel convenient sitting with them. She felt like there was a void in her heart that needed to be
filled and none of the youths around her could fill that need.

How she had heard many prophecies about herself and how her parents have spoken many
times that she was sent to deliver. She had seen her parents point certain ladies to her as her
prototype. She had heard them call her names she never found herself manifesting.

Was it that she was ignorant of herself or she was caught in a web of confusion about herself ?

They said she had been equipped. She had the instincts and grace but here she was, caught up in
unending routines, a stranger to herself. She didn't even know why she was here. She didn't
know what she was. She didn't know what she could do, where she came from, where she was
going, nothing.

They urged her to get to eat and she stood, leaving the hall. As she stepped out of the hall, she
saw how quiet the whole school could be. There were only a few students walking about. She
turned towards her class, walking with tears bulging her lids.

She had been told she was a deliverer but from what? For whom? Of what? Who was she
delivering? How could you know you were born to deliver and not know whom? Did her parent
not say it was them only for their selfish reasons?

She didn't even look like a deliverer. Her life was a pack of mess and inconsistencies. She was
flawed, weak and unlikely to amount to anything. As she routed her way through the building,
she handpicked deliverers she knew.

Katherine.
Jael.
Rose.

Those ladies were warriors. They had a mindset that conquered every and anything. And while
she had been told that everyone's purpose was unique, she didn't feel there was anything about
her. It was all dark for her. Maybe she wasn't born to deliver any people.

Maybe her parents spoke in hope or in cajole. Maybe they didn't want her to feel useless so they
itched her ears with praises. She was no deliverer.

35 | P a g e
She felt a part of her heart, nudging her to believe she was more, that she truly had what it took
but no, it wasn't there.

Her dad said the potential was hidden, inherent, untapped but she had searched every fibre in
her body, there was nothing but fat. She got to a block and sat. She would stop the chase. There
was nothing special about her. You can't demand more from water than hydrogen and oxygen.
Even if you were to demand more, it would only give you both constituents.

There was no passion to live for. She had no special ability. Everything she thought unique to
herself was also something another person could do. What then made her different?

If everyone else could do what she could, why do them?

Superheroes had supernatural skills unique to them. Superman had that strength, Green lantern
had the lantern, Batman was a man of ropes and bats, Spider-Man was a complete model in his
field, Scarlet witch, Doctor strange, everyone of them.

Those were just Marvel heroes.

What were her powers? Hidden still?

She shook her head. She would stop the search. Nothing was probably in her. She was as empty
as a hole, bearing nothing. And she would never task herself to believe otherwise.

***

EXPOSED

Joe always stayed downstairs at night. He made everyone believe he loved the darkness and
stillness while everyone was in the room upstairs. Ofcourse, they believed him. I didn't.

Most nights, I stayed up in my room, reading or chatting till sleep sunk its claws in me or I
invited it because I had a program to meet the next morning.

Joe loved rain and iced blocks. If everyone needed a heater to keep their bodies warm, Joe
needed more cold. He had no sweaters, he had no long sleeves and he hated summer with
passion. When we returned from holiday classes, he would have pulled his buttons before
getting to the door.

36 | P a g e
Joe, a cousin of mine, decided to spend the holiday with us and this was his second week with
us. Before his arrival, I was always the last one to sleep in the house but everytime I do my
midnight patrol, he's awake, on the chair in the living room, seated.

When I ask what he's doing, he just says he wants to remain there. This caused dispute. I
reported to dad and he didn't react as I expected him to. He just told me to bear with him and
understand he was just a nightwalker like myself. But I knew something was not adding up.

Most times, when I walked downstairs at the second hour of the day, he was either beside the
fridge or in the kitchen, touching the cold tiles. Sometimes, he would be seated in the living
room with his eyes wide opened.

This strange nature of Joe influenced his food, likes and clothes. He never ate his food from
fire. Whenever he was served, he would wait extra thirty minutes to ensure the food was cold.
He dreaded sweating like a plague so his outing clothes were more of basketball jerseys.

He loved putting shorts on and walking about almost naked till he was rebuked - we were ladies.
And even though he was our cousin, he didn't have to dress like he was living in a boy's quarter.

I yawned that night, the moon sparkling through the window. I wondered the constituents or
elements in the moon. Were they crystals or snow? I left my room, Bridget turning to her left
and pulling her bed cover over her head. I felt my throat dry and hot.

I expected Joe to be downstairs as usual but as I held the railings, I didn't meet him on the chair.
I quietly walked down the steps and glanced at the clock. 1:25am.

Maybe he had entered his room. But that conclusion didn't sit with me. For the time span he
had been with us, he never had a night without being downstairs. Instead of guessing, I decided
to check the other rooms downstairs.

I yawned and as I turned to the kitchen, he quickly slammed the fridge with a chilling look on
his face. He shivered, holding the handle firmly behind his back. I studied him. He had a rapid
breathing, taking scattered glances, turning from left to right.

I folded my arms. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Came the sharp reply.

"What were you doing?"

"Nothing."

"What happened?"

37 | P a g e
He shook his head but curiosity had just started eating me.

I moved closer and struggled with him to release his hands. He hit my face with his shoulder,
sending me steps back. I came forcefully this time and pulled his hand from the fridge, swinging
its lid open and just before my eyes, I saw something I couldn't name.

When I turned to look at Joe, he had become... something else.

***

HER UNDOING

Jemima lowered her voice, clasping her hands and closing her eyes. She was on her night gown
and she had discovered for the past one week, there had been this nudging to pray at night. Her
days were full of routines - hurrying up to meet lectures, attending classes, returning home to
cook, meeting services if there were any, resting, reading a thing or two, relaxing or meeting
with a person, praying and ending the day.

But since Monday, she just couldn't end the day after prayers. She would need to be awake to
pray a little longer at night and while she had no cogent reason, she kept yielding to her best
ability.

Some nights she slept off while praying, only to wake up with a gut feeling in her throat, almost
deciding to hit herself.

Last week Monday, Taiwo, a church member who had no place to stay reached out to her if she
could squat with her for a few weeks and she accepted. Taiwo came with her foam, bags and a
little of her furniture while she tried her best to make room for her.

At night, Jemima would do her best to mutter silently, not to inconvenience her sister but she
always felt she was quenching a fire. She wasn't the type with roaring tongues but she felt there
was something suppressing her, something she needed to scream out of her lungs but for fear
and adaptation, she didn't.

Last Tuesday night, after she had prayed for a few minutes, she glanced at Taiwo who was fast
asleep. She took a deep breath, stretched and laid down quietly only to hear a little sound. When
she turned to look behind, Taiwo was up.

Fear gripped her.

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Did she mistake her to be asleep? She looked so sound in that sleep. Taiwo went to the toilet
and returned. For few minutes, Jemima kept stealing glances in the darkness but weariness
dragged her to sleep. The last she remembered, Taiwo was still awake.

Wednesday night was no different. As she kept yawning, forcing her lips to make prayers of
protection, strength, help and favour, she heard Taiwo speak.

"Sleep."

The voice was commanding and dry like that of a man. Jemima turned to her, yawned and slept.

On Thursday morning, she woke up with guilt. How could she sleep at just one word? She
vowed to be awake all through the night but that was just her own statement.

At 10pm, the stress of the day climbed onto her back, strangled her neck and squeezed her
fingers. She stood on her feet, walking about, praying. She had almost hit her head on the door
before stationing herself at the door. She rested her back on the door, shaking her head gently
and muttering faint words.

Taiwo came to her and held her wrist. "Sleep."

She opened her eyes drowsily and started walking to the bed before she stopped and shook her
head.

"No. I need to pray."

"You are tired." Taiwo whispered.

"Yes... No... I mean, God will strengthen me. God needs me to pray."

Taiwo always stayed awake all night but Jemima had no idea what she did. She was never with a
book neither did she find her praying or maybe studying the Bible. Taiwo would just keep
staring around.

It was almost like she was waiting for her to sleep every night.

On Friday night, Jemima slept early and woke up the next morning. To her bewilderment,
Taiwo was still awake! After she called her name with a resounding yell, Taiwo turned, stared for
a minute, blinked and went to the bathroom.

Jemima was scared to her chest. She kept whispering Jesus until she came back to rest.

It was Monday now, exactly a week after and Taiwo refused to eat anything she gave her.
Jemima stretched the hand of sisterhood but kept being rejected every time. Whenever Taiwo

39 | P a g e
ate, Jemima asked for nothing also. They were like strangers and she began to pray for Taiwo to
leave.

To leave as soon as she could.

On this present Tuesday night, Jemima sat up, closing her eyes with a determination to pray
through. She had had many unsettling dreams and perceptions. She just couldn't deduce what
was wrong. She got up to wash her eyes and returned, sitting up. Taiwo was also sitting up on
her foam, staring into the darkness.

Jemima closed her eyes and kept praying. Suddenly, she opened her eyes and looked through the
window to see a black owl, standing fixed on a branch and staring intently at her. Jemima shook
and tumbled backwards. Her heart ran up to her mouth, her body wriggling in fear.

She glanced at Taiwo and her face was just fixed in the darkness. Jemima felt haunted. She
glanced outside and the bird was gone.

Jemima swallowed her dried spit, feeling the ramming of her heart against her chest. In that fear,
she laid down to sleep. She cried on her bed. She didn't know what to do. Taiwo was still
looking straight, staring into the darkness.

She felt like disappearing with such darkness she felt in her mouth and nostrils.

The next morning, she woke up to see a shadow over her. She turned quickly and it was Taiwo.
Her face was red and her figure was threatening. Jemima crawled away from her bed, swiftly,
hitting her knee against the wall and stumbling towards the door. She took a final glance at her
and Taiwo had turned, staring at her and walking towards her.

It was then Jemima understood what she was up against.

***

A GROOMSMAN'S PAIN

I was part of the groomsmen and I was yet to be served.

I was looking at the woman as she kept serving into plates arranged before her with people
standing to take them once filled. I was standing with mine in my palms yet she didn't look at
my side.

40 | P a g e
I was still on blue suit. Didn't she remember that was the suit the husband wore? My patience
was wearing out.

After few more minutes, I dropped the plate and went to sit outside, staring at the woman from
afar.

The noise was deafening. There were people calming the crowd outside, telling them to sit
inside that the food would get to them but no one listened. The reception hall was almost
empty with everyone outside with plates in their hands.

"Please, go inside!!" One woman kept shouting over those who had bent over, stretching their
plates to the woman who was serving with five big coolers before her. Why was there just one
server anyway?

I frowned. The woman screaming got no attention so she bent to the woman and told her to
stop serving. Everywhere went crazy. They began to holler and shout at the woman to open the
cooler and that food must reach them. The other woman quickly went into the hall and in few
minutes, the MC announced that those outside should come inside.

Many people refused to obey so the security came to join the ushers in compelling the people to
move inside. I just watched from my angle, looking at different age and class of people struggle
for just a plate of rice.

Forcefully, they dragged a large percentage inside the hall. No one came near me since I was
identified with the suit. Was this my chance? Yes. But I wanted to be fed with dignity. Some of
the groomsmen came outside to discuss while the bridal train remained like a train fixed behind
the wife.

Those serving drinks served round and kept loading the crates from a blue drum and returning
with empty crates to refill again. One of the guys serving saw me from a distance and came
close to hand me a bottled drink. I smiled and thanked him as I rushed the liquid down my
throat.

I had been running around for another man's marriage since three days ago, travelling to
prostrate for a woman and having to do so many official things that weren't necessary in
marriage and here I was without food. I wanted to eat in the morning but I convinced myself
that I would eat belle full in the party.

It was few minutes to three in the afternoon and nothing but this drink had entered my stomach.
I felt like fainting, really.

We stood all through the program. I didn't know it was this stressful. How could we be kept
standing all through the couple's vow taking, prayers and ceremonial pictures? Did I look like I
approved of their marriage?

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After standing almost through the program even to the hymn that took us out of the hall - I've
forgotten whatever it's called - we got to the reception and we were told we had to dance inside.
I was paired with a lady who thought the wedding was hers and that I was her husband.

I didn't know how to tell her to dance gently.

With her heels, she did so many gymnastics I feared for my life. Worst of all, she was taller than
myself so I felt like her junior brother. Apart from the fact that I was sweating terribly on the
inside, my head was banging furiously from the stress and unending loud music.

The MC wasn't cultured. The speakers were booming strongly and convincingly. You could
grow deaf hearing such sound for six hours’ stretch.

I sat on the stone, waiting for food.

I was trying to be a Christian but I was about to unleash.

Different servers came with trays and this woman kept filling the plates over and over again,
adding meat and everything and I kept watching in batches.

A voice was telling me to take advantage of the opportunity and to meet her but no. I was part
of the groomsmen. They had to serve me themselves. I was entitled to that honour. I looked at
the Coca-Cola bottle in my hands and it was empty. After throwing it away, I started to
eavesdrop.

"Has the meat finished?"

"Yes."

"Is there any cooler of meat again?"

"No."

"Serve the remaining like that."

Serve the remaining like what? I stood up and hurried to the place to survey and noticed they
started serving without meat. I wanted to get a plate but I felt my ego sting. They should serve
me. I went to sit in my corner again, burning from the inside.

It was until I saw a man on blue suit come out with a munching mouth. My heart skipped
several beats. I stood up and strode towards him.

"Have you been served?" I asked, my lips quaking.

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He nodded. "You never collect?"

I left him and grabbed a clean plate, stretching it to the woman serving. She raised her head up
and covered the cooler.

"I can't give you more. Others are yet to eat."

"I never chop madam." If I was provoked the more, I could scream. There was surely not going
to be meat in my food. That sting alone was a bitter one.

"They have served all the groomsmen."

"No. I haven't been served."

"The girls told me they have served all of them."

"I was outside. I was not with them."

"Why?"

"I couldn't stand the noise."

"Sorry. The one here is for other people."

"Ma. I haven't eaten." My voice became sober on its own.

Then one woman came, "They have served all of them. Don't give him."

I tried to explain that I was outside but no one listened to my plight. I dropped the plate and
asked for another Coca-Cola which they gave with no argument.

I went to sit down where I sat before, staring at the people and forcing myself not to utter any
word from my lips. If I said anything, it would be a rain of sincere and heartfelt curses.

***

A BEAUTIFUL MISTAKE

I locked the room and threw the keys on the table. I prayed by my bed, unbuttoning my shirt.

43 | P a g e
Ruffling my hair, I pulled the curtain down. The wind had threatened to release the downpour
before I got home but it didn't bulge. I removed the black shoes I wore and opened the bread I
bought.

I went to fetch myself water while I consumed the bread with the little groundnut I bought.
The duo never grew old in my mouth. I took a deep sigh as the winds roared outside, scaring
every other person to their homes.

I took my phone and dialed Joseph. He had reached home too. I laughed over the phone as I
kept munching the bread, enjoying his discussion till I was notified of a low airtime. We said our
greetings and ended the call. I grabbed a jersey and laid on my bed. I began to hear the little
drops fall outside.

I fixed my head in the middle of the pillow, staring into the darkness. The cold breeze from the
window pushed the curtain up, allowing the sensation rest on my skin. I reluctantly stretched to
close the glass. I could still hear Joseph's voice in my head and it was easy to see his face in the
darkness.

After I was admitted that night, the doctor instructed me to call a friend to help with something
to eat. He had started passing the drip through me but he needed me to eat something.

"I have none."

"You must call someone tonight." He left the ward. I stared at all the contacts in my phone
book. Everyone I measured with my mind couldn't make such sacrifice for me. Who would
leave their room in a cold night with a prepared meal for me to eat? Paul? John?

We were church members and level mates but I didn't expect them to make such
inconveniencing sacrifice. John was the kind of brother one could trust for spiritual advices and
revelations. Paul was the right man for business consultations. They were busy people. I sighed
and dropped my phone beside me, my head feeling like three times its size.

I was already drifting off to sleep when he opened the door.

"Is anyone coming?"

I grunted. I didn't even have energy to reply.

"You have to call someone," he came close. "Now."

I unlocked the phone. He nudged my hands gently. I kept scrolling, my eyes gently closing. I
was going to call John. John was a better substitute to Paul. As I was dialing, I noticed John's
name on my screen was a bit longer. I didn't cut the call but waited for it to ring.

44 | P a g e
"Hello sir." The voice called.

I furrowed my brow. That wasn't John's voice. "Good evening. Joseph?"

"Yes sir."

"I am so sorry for -"

The doctor held my arm and stiffened his fingers around me. I grew silent.

"Sir?"

"Don't worry. I'm sorry for -"

He did squeeze my wrist this time.

"Please can you come to the health center? With food for me?" I stuttered.

"Are you fine sir?" I could hear the concern in his voice. I didn't know what to reply so I kept
mute. "I am coming sir." He ended the call.

I nodded at the doctor and he checked his watch before leaving. I didn't want to talk to Joseph.
He was not a friend - he was a brother in the fellowship. I felt angry for calling a total stranger
to bring a meal for me. I rubbed my temple, feeling my warm skin. As I closed my eyes, rain
started to fall.

It was those kind of rain without any signal. No wind, no darkening of the sky. It was night
already and that was why I didn't get to see the sky darken. The rain was enough obstacle to
discourage Joseph. Only then did I feel better. I whispered to myself to prepare to sleep
without food in my belly.

As the rain kept ravaging the street, I concluded I wasn't going to die and then forced myself
into sleeping.

Thirty minutes later, with the rain in the background, the doctor woke me with Joseph in my
ward, dripping from head to toe. I squinted before adjusting and rubbing my nose with the back
of my hand. I tried sitting up.

"You need to eat now. Your friend is here."

Merely looking at Joseph, I felt like falling to the ground to thank him. He was shivering even
with the dry smile on his face. My lips found no words. I couldn't eat this food. A food born
out of such sacrifice? He trekked inside the rain? How did he cook so fast?

45 | P a g e
The doctor forced, pleaded and threatened but I had made a vow. It was until Joseph pleaded
that I consented. I couldn't look at his face. The doctor turned the fan on so he could dry faster.
As the rain kept making its beat, I had no words of thanks to say. Would John have entered the
rain? I couldn't say.

It was two days after that day that I got discharged. I thanked Joseph the next day and since
then, we started to bond. He was a true brother.

He was a man of sacrifice and love. Every now and then, I thank God I dialed his number that
night and not John's. That mistake gave me a brother forever.

***

ONE LIKE NO OTHER

"In all you do, put God first. I love you sis. Bye."

Grace glanced at the little paper in her palms. She folded it nicely and returned it to her diary.
She pulled the paper out again and checked the back.

15/04/13

That was eight years ago.

She dropped the paper on the table, staring blankly at the blue painted wall. It was cold this
evening and all Grace wanted to do was to find a reason to be awake. She had left her bed with
her dairy, flipping through the pages till that note fell off.

Blessing hid it in her English note the day she withdrew from her school. Grace didn't find it
until three days after and as she read its contents, she lowered her head on the desk and sobbed.

She felt Blessing was behind, rubbing a palm on her shoulder but she casted the thought away.
Blessing had gone. When she broke the news that she was relocating, it was a bitter-sweet one.

Sweet because she was happy they were moving to their own house. Bitter because her only
friend was leaving. Since that day she bore the news, she kept releasing Blessing from her heart
day by day before the D-day. They had a new home in the east. Grace didn't know wherever
that was.

Blessing had been a companion and encouragement. A sister to hear her struggles and a sister

46 | P a g e
to hear her victories. One to laugh with and one to laugh at. Blessing had been God's grace to
Grace. Grace blessed Blessing with blessings, as much as she could give but she never thought
she did enough.

Blessing loved to read the word of God. She believed it was God's handwritten letter to her.
She would read a very little portion and think about it and ask so many questions just from the
little she read. She would probe and when she found no answer, pray for God to answer her
questions then continue reading.

Most times, she found her answers. Anytime she asked me questions, I tried my best to answer.
In no time, I started to bring my Bible to school and during break, we would study it together.
She would think about people's mistakes deeply you would know she didn't want to repeat such.
She would pray so hard, asking not to make such mistake.

She would give and quote verses about giving. She was a lady who found Faith in the word and
loved God dearly. There were only a few like that. There was another sister I found second to
Blessing.

I wonder who and what Blessing would look like if she continued on that path. If in my final
year I could have these trickles of results, Blessing sure had a fountain. A fountain so pure and
much to feed thousands.

She never got involved in controversial things. If I admired Blessing then I should pay homage
to her parents also. Blessing loved fish. Especially when fried. She loved packing her hair to the
back. She was the regular girl with a chocolate colour. She always preferred yam to bread.

She was left handed and craved to wear glasses. She disliked bullies. She wasn't huge nor tall.
She was rather slim and average in height. Blessing formed her own songs whenever she had
free time. She wanted to own a hotel too, I remember her saying that once... twice.

Blessing had her fears too. She feared experiencing heartbreak so she never gave any guy a
chance. It was a good fear then. She feared failing. She hated seeing red pen in her report card.
She feared death. I talked her out of those thoughts once when she allowed them substitute the
place of the word, enveloping her.

We returned to the word and she began acting and speaking in faith. The joy of helping one
stand filled me to the brim.

I haven't seen Blessing for eight years now and it's still counting. I may not have the opportunity
of seeing her again. Even technology cannot substitute for physical interaction.

I believe Blessing still has been putting God first in everything. I wish we would see once again.
There would be memories to share together. And verses of the scripture to talk about.

47 | P a g e
 ***

DIAMOND, BETRAYAL, REDEMPTION

I couldn't tell if making me the treasurer was a mistake or a blessing. Since the day he selected
me, I felt he had opened my heart to find the lust in me. Of the twelve, he gave me the purse.
That was strange for the kind of man they said he was.

Everyone had preferences so I had no issue living with the fact that he loved John and only
called me for matters that needed discussing. Most nights, I spent time arguing with Matthew,
one who believed he knew how to count gold than myself.

Lots of gold passing one's hands didn't integrate into knowledge of how to handle them.

The truth was, the women gave lavishly. They believed in Rabbi and it was with his reputation
we got most of our needs met. We only needed to say it was in his name.

I sat down on the chair alone, Rabbi in the room with his trio around him while the others were
anywhere they wanted to be. I started to sort the coins but my mind was divided.

I had been offered a great deal. I didn't like the thought of selling my master but the bargain
was juicy. I could vouch for him: getting away was something he could do without lifting a
finger.

I counted thirty pieces and separated them to the left hand side of the table. I could remember
how he spoke to me when I talked about the spikenard. He made me feel like I said what I said
because I wanted to steal. That wasn't of course my primary aim.

I felt naked that night even with the robe I wore.

Andrew stared at me long after Jesus had finished that statement. I could imagine what he was
thinking. I took my eyes away in shame as she washed his feet with her hair.

I counted another thirty to my right. They were glittering even in the night. Just as I was about
counting the others, someone stood over my back. I paused counting, waiting for him to unveil
himself.

"How much coin do we have left?"

"I'm still counting." I replied harshly. "Can't you see?"

48 | P a g e
He kept mute for almost a minute. I resumed counting.

"Would it be enough for our travel tomorrow by water?"

I stopped and turned to him. "Will you allow me finish my job?"

"Job you've been craving for, aye?"

"Pained it didn't fall on your laps?"

"God watch thee!" He walked away.

Whenever people wanted to make donations, Rabbi sent me alone. They handed all the
resources and coins to me and I was in charge of everything that entered and left the purse. It
was my charge and I vowed to keep it faithfully.

Some fought for the right hand in The Kingdom of God. Others wanted mansions. One man
kept reminding Rabbi he had left all, including family and in-laws, to follow Jesus.

I counted another thirty pieces.

We all wanted the same thing in different forms. I didn't know when Jesus would leave but he
always talked about dying on the cross. In fact, the first week he gathered us, that was what he
said - he announced his death.

I only thought it wise to lift little from the profits pending when he'd die finally. He talked about
one who will betray him and then open the doors of redemption for others to come in.

I didn't understand because, you see, Rabbi taught in parables. Sometimes, even when he
explained them, they sounded all the same to me.

I knew a disciple that envied my position without knowing the responsibility that came with it.
Most times, during Christ's teachings in the synagogue, I'll be thinking of how much we had
yesterday and how much we had left and what we spent it on.

Christ never asked me to give account. I just did it because I needed the information.

Would Rabbi survive the test? He had all the power - he would. We were preparing for the last
supper. I looked behind and turned forward.

I would talk to the soldiers after the meal. Christ would survive, I knew that. And even if he
didn't... he will survive, I convinced myself and left.

49 | P a g e
 ***

EMOTIONS WITH THE ENEMY

I spent the last night training. I swerved the sword again and again, perfecting my swordplay,
thrusting through the air and editing my combos. It was the trial for me to be admitted into the
army.

I stopped midair. It was time to perfect the seven-second-strike. Sensei had taught me and I had
watched him for hours in his white robe, practicing against a wooden dummy that just stood. I
leaned on my back leg, pulling the sword in the air gently. I could imagine an opponent standing
before me with his own sword.

I recited under my breath:

Dodge.
Spin.
Stretch
Strike.

I dropped a deep breath before running towards the enemy, leaping like a leopard, spinning
midair, stretching my arms forward and striking its head. I saw the sword pierce through his
head. I trotted gently to where I had sprinted from, taking deep breaths. I leaned forward, hands
on my knees.

The first practice I had with Sensei in the open field, he picked five weaknesses and a few weak
spots in my body. My chin, my right arm and my belly.

I had a broken arm years ago and it still affected my swordplay. Sensei said it wouldn't be long
for my enemies to discover with the way I held my sword. Immediately, he posed two options:
either to train to be a master irrespective of my past or quit.

My brothers were in the army. I wanted to join too. For too long, my dad saw me as a no good.
He celebrated those before me but not me. He thought me still a kid.

That was a great insult for a man my age.

The flickers of light I had lit on the torches had begun to give in to the wind. They were dying
gradually into embers. I gathered strength and sighed.

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One last time.

I took the sword, swerved it around and placed the imaginary enemy before me. I charged at it
and practiced my swordplay on it.

I had no time to rest. I was as anxious as the cock that waited at my window to crow first thing
in the morning.

I dressed quickly in my armor, rolling the mat and towel after I was done. Spag was prepared
but I couldn't war on filled stomach. To strengthen my belly, I had to face punches every day,
ruthless punches that made me cringe for hours in my room alone, agonizing the deep pain I
felt around my waist.

Sensei said every man's weakness was his stomach. It would take a voluntary effort to change
the narrative. I jogged to the field much earlier, practicing and practicing. Time rolled by and I
was summoned to the training ground.

I was greeted by existing members of the army and they all stared in hope that I'd be admitted.
I was tensed. My breath was shaky. My eyes weren't seeing clearly.

I stood at one end of the ground while Sensei came and took a gentle bow then backed off. I
was surprised. I stared around and Cleotus, my elder brother, came forward with his sword.

I kept glancing around, hoping it wasn't true until he pulled his sword. Sensei smiled and spread
his hand to me. "You haven't won until you overcome the battle of your mind and emotions."

The sword was slippery on my palms. Was my brother really going to fight me?

He dashed towards me with such speed that left me spellbound. I quickly pulled my sword in
defense. I was shivering. I was panting and I kept taking his attacks. I was fighting hard to settle
with the present circumstance. I was no longer fighting Sensei but my brother. How could I?

He aimed for my face and I quickly docked. He threw fast slashes at me, aiming at my face and
arm. I kept moving back, metals clinging, crowd cheering, heart beating.

He struck my wrist once and I screamed. He pointed the sword at my face, daring me. I flung
his arm and started launching attacks. It wasn't long before tables turned again. He kicked me
and sent me tumbling down. It was a Kikanso trick, one where you appeared to be striking then
dodge, roll and strike the enemy's foot behind.

He stretched his sword at me. "Stay down," he advised.

I stared at him. I couldn't beat my brother. All my mind was filled with childhood memories.
Now seeing the same man attack me like I was the real enemy...

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He left and Sensei came to me. He helped me up and placed a hand over my shoulder.

"If the enemy comes in form of your brother, you must learn to be like Jesus and rebuke Peter.
Else, he will bring you down. Your friend yesterday can be your enemy today. You need wisdom
to discern and to act accordingly."

And with that, he turned his back at me.

***

ENABLED

I stood before the audience, head lowered.

Drops of sweat curled all around my body. I felt my heart thud. The microphone was on its
stand, staring me at the face. I could feel their itching eyes on my skin. I could taste their
curiousness on my lip.

Every second that passed, my heart hit louder.

My mind was troubled. Many thoughts were over-riding themselves and it wasn't a strange
occurrence. I expected it. I told mum I couldn't do it. I told them all at home but they never
listened. They clamoured that there was the voice in me and that I needed to open my lips.

And God would fill it up.

I couldn't even stare at the people before me. I looked up, closed my eyes and opened my
mouth. God could fill it now. I waited for inspiration. I waited for words to come but nothing.

I felt a hand at my back, the man quietly leading me from the stage. Immediately I knew we
were away from the crowd, I broke into hot tears.

That was last year.

I fixed my tie, disturbed and afraid. If I could vividly remember the experience, didn't that mean
a repetition? Mum said I was more matured but I didn't think so. I adjusted my trousers before
the mirror, fixed my belt and bulged outside the room.

I sat in church and a young lady handed me a white paper. I checked it and shut my eyes. I

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would be coming just before the guest minister. Had they forgotten the experience of last year
so soon? Why would they do that? When the man returned to the podium, the same man that
led me out, he told them to clap for me.

To clap for my mediocrity.

It even made me cry more. It was mum who said I was a good singer and that I never allowed
them rest at home. I was audited and the few that heard from me said I was anointed. Anointing
I didn't know I had.

They enrolled me in classes, trained my voice and challenged me to become. I took it as a

positive challenge, an investment of God upon my life. It improved me but we were yet to cross
the last hurdle - facing the crowd.

I felt so much fear whenever I stood before people. The fear wasn't one. It wasn't for two
reasons. They were many.

What if I went off ? What if they weren't blessed? What if I made a mistake? Changed the key?
Didn't carry them along? They didn't know the song? Didn't like me?

Or my dressing was off ? I just didn't know what went through their minds.

I met Tony and he told me to build boldness before coming. He said it happened in the bible to
the disciples. Ofcourse I wasn't convinced till he showed me. And I could only wonder: the
apostles were scared at some point!

But then what did they do? They prayed.

I had my plans set and I was just waiting for the prayer session to start. Instead of worrying, I'll
go find a place to pray as Tony advised.

I would even leave the church for the toilet. And there, I'll pray.

The prayer session came and I left to the male toilet. I shut the door and began to pray in other
tongues, hoping things would change. I followed the order of program in my mind, calculating
carefully.

It was getting closer to my turn and I only kept speaking in other tongues. It remained just an
activity before my turn so I rounded the prayer up and returned to my seat, mumbling unknown
words.

I didn't really feel different. But I knew it worked for the disciples.

My name was called and I climbed the stage calmly. The claps were more than last year. More

53 | P a g e
expectations, increased pressure. I got to the standing microphone and everywhere went dead
silent.

I sighed deeply my hand shivering. I could hear my fears whispering behind me. Thoughts
began to run through my mind.

I opened my eyes and...

I closed my eyes again, the words hanging in my throat.

What if ?

What if ??

What if not??

What if I didn't fail?

What if I didn't sing off ?

And even if I did, what harm did it cause?

I took three deep breaths and released a tiny sound. The pianist quickly turned it to a chord. As
I heard him play, the melody struck my heart. I smiled at the microphone.

I felt a warm breeze sweep my arm and I knew I was going to pour out a beautiful melody.

And yes, I did.

***

AN UNSETTLING QUESTION

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. I hurried out of the bed, running towards the
mirror to stare at my face. Tears freely fell. I had seen my image, not in a mirror, but face to
face.

She thought she was dreaming. I thought I was in a trance. We didn't only look alike, we talked
similarly. She had her black hair properly packed with a ribbon. She was a shoulder taller than

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myself. Her cheeks were rounded like mine but I had a plumper stature than hers. We had no
words to say for close to four minutes.

First, we stared at each other from afar. She was sitting on a bench outside, enjoying the sun,
while I was walking down the walkway when our eyes met. I furrowed my brows to see clearly
and she did look exactly like me.

I gasped for a while and kept watching her gesture. She seemed amazed. It was when her lips
began to curl into a smile that I ran to her and with her arms wide opened, I fell there. She
enveloped me.

As we perceived each other's neck, I felt whole. That part I felt missing was restored. We wept
on our shoulders. She kept rubbing her hand through my back, channeling my emotions like she
was controlling the tides of the sea.

We pulled from the deep hug and locked our eyes together. I felt like not leaving that place. We
sat and didn't even know what to say nor where to start discussing from.

I admired her hair. We were naturals and that got my attention.

I held her hand firmly, not willing to let go. If God had told me this was happening today, I
wouldn't believe. Maybe that's why He didn't tell me. But, I always felt like I had a twin.

"What's your -"

"I am Racheal."

With utter shock, I held her arms. "Racheal? I'm Radiance!"

"What?!" We shared in the moment, laughing and high-fiving ourselves.

"I can't believe!"

"I can't... Jesus!"

"Wait... what's your best food?" I quickly said.

"Rice. You?"

"Err... Yam. Yam wins!"

"You don't mean it. You don't look like a yammer."

"Yammer? What's that?"

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"A yammer is a person that loves yam."

I nodded, staring around. "I see. Where do you come from? Where do you stay? What are your
hobbies?"

"Easy." She said, forcing smiles from my face.

"I come from... My parents told me I was born in Imo. But I stay with them in Abeokuta."

"Wow. That's quite far from here."

"Yes. I came here to make findings for an application. I would be leaving tomorrow for my
state."

My heart froze. "So soon?"

She nodded. "I have to leave first thing tomorrow morning." She noticed the weight of
depression that realization caused me and she rubbed my arm. "We will keep in touch, okay?"

I think we had different temperaments. I faked a smile and she used her indexes to stretch the
edges of my lips to form a smile.

"As for what I like doing, it's playing music."

"I love singing."

"I love singing too," she seconded. "I sing alto quite well."

I smiled. I sang Soprano. I was chosen as a lead singer most times.

"When I was young, I loved a song. It was titled 'Mary had a little lamb.'"

I looked at Racheal, surprised. That was my best song when I was a child too. Were these mere
coincidences?

"I used to sing it then with passion." She added.

"Yes. Me too. I used to... sing it with people... young kids... we were small then."

"We were small too... we sang in groups... we sang in groups at home."

"At home and in school." The smiles on my face were dying down.

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"Yes. I think there were some mums then. The memories aren't clear anymore."

I kept mute. I could hear the chorus faintly in my ears. I could hardly remember the faces in the
scenes but we were much then. We all wore the same cloth in the evening. I don't think it was a
boarding house school because we were really young.

It was either a creche or something else.

"I think we always met to sing in the evening."

"Yes, we did." I paused, staring at her. "Where you brought up in a home or a school?"

"I don't know yet... My parents have none of my pictures when I was little. I asked and till now,
they said nothing."

I couldn't believe my ears.

That had been the same thing I'd been experiencing from home. Mum never told me anything
about my young age. It was like a dark room they never led me to.

We finished our greetings, shared our numbers, hugged for moments, and left to our
destinations. As soon as I got home, I told mum she had to tell me what went wrong now or I
was leaving.

I had never said such. She tried to know what made me so upset but I told her nothing. It was
easy for her to open up since dad wasn't around.

She told me everything.

I ran to the bathroom to soak into my tears.

I was unloved by my parents. They didn't love us. They didn't desire to have us. Why? Why did
they drop us in an orphanage home? Why were we left there till our foster parents came and
separated us?

Mum said they told her to only pick one first and she picked me. She said she returned the next
week for my twin and by the time she got there, she was no longer there.

I was hurt beyond words.

And my greatest grief was the understanding that my real parents didn't want me, didn't want
us.

What really was the reason?

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 ***

A STRANGE DOOR

We entered the building, flicking our torches towards many directions as our intuition led us.
Cobwebs obstructed my way as I led the team to the right. The floor was a mixture of broken
sticks, broken glass, decayed wood and grass. It didn't look complete.

Stopping, I scanned from left to right, seeing many crawling insects skitter away as the ray of
torch touched them. I scanned the new space we entered and even as I stood, my shoulder was
sinking in weariness.

I felt Jacob walk close to my side, his torch scanning the last part of the room. "We can not stay
here, Joe."

I examined the floor. No one could sleep on such shards. I felt my back ache. I found an exit
and proceeded.

"John, keep her safe."

"Sure."

I entered another space but this time it was larger. There was a fridge at one end. I didn't bother
myself with what a fridge was doing in such deserted place. I saw hanging lines with dust
covering their first layer. A few bats flew over our heads and I shivered when they flapped
towards our direction, hovering before we chased them.

With every step, I pointed to the ground, careful to avoid a feet injury. Whoever lived here, lived
in abject poverty. We found two torn settees at one room with dust covering them as a shield
and with many rodents running into a space the furniture provided.

I told them to stay there and went into another room. I found a dead body on the floor. I saw
flies and the scattered trailing of small scavengers I couldn't even name. One of the animals
refused to leave until I stamped my feet to scare it away. I went around the body, scanning with
the torch in my hand. I tried to identify the face but no dots were adding up.

I saw a bullet hole in his chest. He looked like he died about a month ago or more. His face had
been eaten and it was the mask I wore that saved me from the stinking smell I knew oozed out
from him. His clothes were tattered on many sides and I credited such feat to the animals. I

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checked around and found a little stool and a wooden table at the far end. I went closer and I
saw a pen, uncovered.

I saw the book closed and I searched behind me. The floor was a bit tarred but we couldn't stay
here for the night. I opened the book and it was filled with letters I didn't understand. He
probably understood another language.

We needed to pass the night here for tomorrow.

Our journey was still for two-days. It was far into night time and we needed to rest at all cost.
The lady with us especially needed that rest. I lifted the table from the room and brought it to
where they were.

"Let her lay here." I commanded. The remaining two guys had turned off their torches, leaving
only Jacob's. He quickly noticed my desire for an explanation.

"We thought it wise to conserve battery."

I nodded. I would get another furniture. I went through the path we had come through. We
would have to use the settee that way. I passed the first space, carefully avoiding the shards. I
got to the room that contained the settee and as I scanned to my right, I saw the path we had
come through and on my left, I saw something entirely strange.

There was another door.

Another door we didn't see while coming in.

***

A GHOST?

Blossom held the picture album, running from her brother. He chased her till they came to the
living room and one look from their father sent them back to their room.

"I got it first!"

"No! You grabbed it from me!"

"You didn't hold it firmly!"

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"How was I supposed to know you were -"

She dashed from the room again. He refused to chase her this time. He went to his foam and
laid on it. When she saw he didn't chase her, she returned, suspiciously looking at him. She
climbed her bed and laid quietly. The electric current was low like every other day. She adjusted
the teddy and created space for herself.

The florescent bulb only provided enough light to see the obvious not the tiny details.

"Just hand it over once you're done." He said, turning his back on her.

"I will. I just hope you don't sleep off."

"You don't say."

She opened the cover and the first image caused her to laugh. "Here's mum. Mum is touching
your hair and you are smiling like a two-year old. You even look like a two-year old now."

"You weren't in her womb yet." He muttered between cackle.

"You came first doesn't mean anything."

"Oh it does. Ask Esau and Jacob!"

"Okay, okay, you win!"

"Good!" He affirmed.

She flipped. "Hey! I am here. But like a baby. You aren't happy." She laughed. "You aren't happy
I've stolen mum's attention."

"Whatever."

"Look at your face. Jeeez!" She looked over to the next image. "Look at this one. Dad is holding
mum's waist. I've never seen them this close."

"They don't hold themselves that way anymore."

"Why?" She glanced at him.

"I don't know. Maybe they do it but not in our presence."

"Yeah, yeah, we are kids."

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"You are a kid. I'm not. I'm ten."

"Durrrrh!" She flipped to the next page. She ran her hand through the image fixed in a
transparent nylon. "Wow. You look like you're five here. Handsome and cute."

"Are you there?"

"No."

"That must be why I look cute."

She hissed and quickly turned to the next one. "Mum is carrying you here. I don't think I've
been born. Dad and mum have the same clothes worn."

"Okay. What am I doing?"

"Looking at the camera. Probably unsure of what it is."

He huffed gently. She smiled and turned to the next one. Her smiles died down. She kept
staring, looking closely.

"You done?"

"No," she answered shakily, "this picture is strange."

"Strange?" He stood up and walked over to her. She handed the album to him. His father was
beside his mum. They had a big smile on their faces. He was not there so he couldn't tell if he
had been born or not but, they looked much younger.

Behind them, at the edge of the photograph was the shadow of a person on the wall. They
couldn't point who the person was because no one was in view. But the shadow was evident.

He closed the album. "It's enough for the night." He left the album on the table and went to
bed but none of them slept for they had the same question in their minds.

***

THE ENCHANTED MIRROR

Since the day I brought the mirror into my room on the 14th of Feb, laying it directly opposite

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the passage into the bathroom, I've been having strange experiences with the furniture.

Weird experiences. At days and at nights. The first thing to note is that it's exactly a month I
bought the mirror and it has grown larger than its initial size. After the first three days of its
weird experiences, I measured it and right now, as I speak, it has exceeded the boundaries I
drew with my black permanent marker.

One noon, while I was alone, I was hearing a low music. I thought it was my phone but it wasn't.
It was the mirror om the wall. It was chanting and humming rhythmically. It was last week I
discovered it begins humming by 10:30pm and ends by 1:00am. It has a good stickling with time
and is never late. Not even by a minute.

It glows. It glows at night by its edges. It gives a cool light and sometimes, the light could be one
of many colours. There was a particular night I was searching for a book on my table with a
torch and then my torch rays fell on the mirror's face. The glass had turn into a form like a
moving river.

It was flowing and that was the creepiest thing I'd seen. The next morning, it was back to glass.

I said that was the creepiest? I thought it was too. Until my brother came to call me to dinner
one night. He hardly enters my room - he says he hates it and I like it that way. He entered my
room and stood in the mirror's reflection. As he was talking, I saw another reflection in the
mirror.

At this time, it was the most alarming thing to me. I saw his day or activities or moments being
played from the mirror. There was no voice. It played his actions, interactions with people,
down moments, I knew everything about that day. By the time he turned to the mirror, it was a
clear image of his self-portrait.

There was another day I entered the room with discouragement after realizing my efforts into
the music industry for a year had gone unnoticed and uncompensated for. The mirror, like a
television, played the lives of the managers but without audio.

I knew one had problems in his marriage, the other had a sick daughter, and the last one just
got a car and was trying to conceal it.

After repeating their state to them, they gave me a place in the industry. I returned to thank the
mirror and a bright light escaped its sides, lightening the wall around it. I slept with part joy and
part concern.

Anytime I wanted to report these strange happenings to my parents, I feared they'd take the
mirror away from me. I wanted it around. But I didn't want it around too. Sometimes, I thought
something or someone was watching from the other side. It's like a person was around with his
eyes fixed on me. If it was playing other people's stories to me, wouldn't it do same against me?

62 | P a g e
I swept the thought aside and decided to lift the mirror to a more secluded place and that was
then it dawned on me: the mirror was immovable. It had stuck itself to the wall. I pulled its
edges but I was totally powerless. It didn't move a bit.

I went downstairs to call dad and by the time we returned the mirror had vanished.

***

RAGING VENGEANCE

After the death of a lineage of kings in Abesha village, it became a custom. The gods didn't
want to see faces. We didn't preserve the gift they gave us. The king died with his two sons the
same day.

That couldn't be ordinary.

It was either they ate a pottage that a servant had been paid to do a dirty job or it was
something else. The culprit was not hard to guess for some others: his wife was still alive. She
was ill that night and only took vegetables. No villager bought into that baseless story. How
would the whole kingship be wiped out in one night, in the same roof and you had no
explanation? No elder heard that.

Ikokka, the chief priest, inquired from the gods for two full days and returned with a disturbing
news - our faces were not to be seen. We had to go out only with masks. People disobeyed and
dropped dead immediately they stepped out.

Mama made one for me and my brother, only then could we return to our classes in the local
school. The news in the palace became headlines for a week. We heard the priest and chiefs
were searching tooth and nail to find the culprit and just as they were curious to know, we were
eager to find out.

The hut where we lived was near the palace since mama was one of the queen's maid. Mama
refused to stay in the palace. She wanted to stay with her family. The queen couldn't let her go
so, she provided a hut for us just by the palace. But recently, I noticed the downward turn on
my brother.

Jikaja was as energetic as myself even though younger. We related in the same level because
there wasn't too much years between us. He was taller but I was wiser. We've had disputes but
had realized that whenever we settled them, the bonding strengthened.

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Jikaja was always with me. But he didn't look himself right now.

News reached the villagers through the crier that Ikokka had gone for another two days’ search
to find the culprit. The news gladdened the people including myself. I tried urging Jikaja to go
to school after we had gotten the masks but he lost interest in school.

I told mama. She said to leave him that he would come off it but it was five days already. Jikaja
didn't do nothing. I left for school and returned daily to meet him awake but distant from this
world. My fears rose. Why the sudden change?

Through the next week, against mama's consent, I joined Jikaja at home, talking with him to get
him to say something. He said nothing.

Two days turned to five for Ikokka and the queen sent five guards to go check him wherever he
went to. The villagers found a new headline but my brother wasn't in the now.

After the third day of staying with him, he said he was sad about dad's death. He felt it was
unjust. I sighed and hugged him deeply. Everyone in the village knew how our dad had died
but no one bothered. There was no Ikokka to check what the gods were saying. It was a silent
contract.

I encouraged Jikaja to move on. Everything was fine already. At least, our offenders were dead.

It took Ikokka two more days to reach the village. Immediately he set foot, the whole land
gathered around him, outrunning the guards. He looked so weak to speak so they fed him.

They shoved us away and told us he needed to rest. We would hear news tomorrow. That night
was a long one for the villagers. But not for me.

We appeared the next morning all in our masks before the palace, awaiting. The chief priest
came, staring at the people from the podium where the king had always addressed us. He sighed
and after a minute, he stamped his staff.

"One of our own has done this. And he will face the wrath of the gods."

The gods had no wrath when my papa was killed for no cause. Mama went mute on the issue
but every night, after she returned from serving the queen, she wore a demeanor that showed
how much she was hurting. She was serving the very ones that killed her crown.

"We will kill the same by hanging naked and publicly in the forest for such evil."

The death of my papa was no evil. Wasn't the king supposed to protect his subjects? My own
king had used them as means to show his power.

64 | P a g e
"Jakaji of Binawi, son of Kendefi. Come out. Now."

The people gasped. I didn't see any need to.

Anything you sow should come back to you in multiple folds and that's what I had just done.

***

THE STOLEN ART

He hid behind the round table, peeking through his eyes. It was the ball party and most men
were on black suits with either a red lapel or a red tie and the ladies fitted themselves in black
gowns.

The lights, scattered all over the hall, prevented Joe from finding his target. Two people moved
closer and decided to discuss before him, entirely covering his sight. As he squatted, his ears
picked sounds at both ends. He could hear the booming music, trying to influence him to join
in the romantic dance and forget his target.

He held the edge of the table with both palms, sprang up abruptly and strode behind a pillar,
looking frantic.

"Are you near the -"

"Shhh... Let me think." He replied the voice in his ear.

"You're covered by the right. You sure don't need a suit?"

Being on a blue shirt and a black tie made him naked. He needed to blend in. He followed a
man holding a tray and walking to a inner room to refill the cups with wine. He turned out of
shock to see Joe.

"Your suit... Please?"

"No way."

"Hard way." Joe slammed the tray on his face, even with the cups, pulled him closer and
stamped his stomach with his right fist. The man furiously raised his head and sucked the gaze
on Joe's face with rage before aiming at him. Joe blocked his fist with the same tray which

65 | P a g e
shattered at such force and took a sharp piece still clinging to his palm. He revealed an evil grin
before trying to tear his face. The man blocked with his elbow, preventing him, but Joe kept
pushing.

Both parties were grunting, straining. Joe applied all force, turning his grunt into a gradually
rising horn.

"You can have it!" The man voiced and Joe stopped immediately.

They straightened themselves and while Joe was trying to catch his breath.

"You allowed me go through all that stress?"

The man pulled off the suit and handed it to him. "Here is your prize." Joe wore it quickly and
checked his wrist. He gasped. He moved two steps before the man called.

"Hey!"

"What?"

"You'll return the suit after the party, right?"

"You will never find me." Joe left the store and immediately he entered the hall, the sound
greeted him. He spun around and there it was, in the glass case, unwatched by no one. The
bouncers looked different in that they had dark shades and were on black shirts uniformly.

He touched his ear. "I have gotten a suit." He tugged the suit at its edges, saddened at its size on
him. It was obvious it wasn't his. He tried to fit into the stature of the person that owned it but
it was a different mathematics all together.

"Prepare to act a little scene."

"Hit me."

"Behave like you have got an order to move the art to another place. The second platform in
the second pavilion is empty and you need to take it there now. Act serious because you are and,
boom! You outrun the race."

"I need an I.D." Joe was closing up on the distance between himself and the art.

"Well, get one. I don't want you dead yet."

"You want me to beat a bouncer? For real?"

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The voice over the device in his ear laughed. "You don't necessarily have to. Think."

"I can't -"

"Do something. Offer a favour, plan a mishap, pull the rope, anything at all. It's simple."

"Got it." Joe moved through the crowd, a lot of them with a cup filled with wine and a merry
face.

"You owe me a million for that advice."

"I'll give you when I get my art."

The man gasped, stammering, "Your... Your what? Whose art?"

"My art." Joe spied a man at the counter with his I.D lazily hanging around. He adjusted the
coat-like-suit and walked to him, hit one of the bar chairs with his leg and launched himself to
the lap of the security. In such surprise, he held Joe, steadying him.

"Easy man." He placed his hands on his shoulder, helping him straighten. Joe drowsed his eyes.
"I see you're drunk. Little kid, too much drink. Sit somewhere." He tried fixing him on a seat
but Joe refused. Joe convinced him that he was going home. Only then did he allow him. He
flawed his steps, protruding himself forward.

He walked faster immediately he was out of sight. Clara's father was such a rich man. It was her
birthday and he had made it as elegant as a first-class wedding. Many artworks graced the
occasion, shining gracefully through the glass and while everyone paid less attention to the art,
that was the only reason why he came.

"Joe, I didn't understand why you called it your art."

"Will you let me concentrate?" He turned into another division of the building and walked to
the guard standing beside the art. He wore a grim face and bowed.

"I've been asked to move this particular art."

"To?"

"The second pavilion."

"How safe is it there?"

"More dignified personalities are in the garden outside and the people will be appeased if they
see such beauty gracing their faces."

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"How safe?"

"Very... very... safe."

He furrowed his brow, looking around. He fixed his eyes on Joe. "Whose order?"

Joe gave a light laugh. "I can't remember his name, really. The huge, hulky guy."

"The huge hulky guy?"

"Yes. Or you don't know him?"

The man came closer, studying him without expressing his thoughts through words. Joe raised
the I.D

"If you wouldn't mind, I was given a time span."

He glanced at the I.D and refused to approve Joe's ordeal. Joe exhaled loudly, frustrated. He
placed his hands akimbo.

"How about you follow me there? I need to carry this art now. I don't want to lose my job."

He nodded and allowed Joe to lift the art.

"Careful, boy." He called, his voice over Joe's head.

On the art it was written by its base, "To my love, the one my heart desires." Joe wondered if he
actually wanted to give this particular art to someone. Clara's father had a divorce with his wife
and it's been eight years he's been with Clara alone. The woman probably wanted a rich and
caring lover.

Joe understood that one had to go for the other.

He walked with the guard directly behind him. Passing through another entrance, they heard a
man holler and when they turned, he solicited for the help of the idle guard. The guard told Joe
he was coming right away to stay with the art. Joe nodded and raised no suspicion.

As he continued walking, he turned the other way.

"Joe, where are we going to meet?"

He entered the backyard and pulled the suit off. "You'll never find me."

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 ***

GOD'S FAITHFULNESS

I was travelling to OAU tomorrow.

Mum had left me to the choice of clothes I wanted to carry but she advised, "Don't take all
your clothes to school. Leave some at home."

I thought she meant the house wears but she also meant some church gowns and beautiful tops.
I asked why but she refused to say anymore. I pondered on her statement and I could only
deduce one reason: to have something to wear when I come home for holidays.

It was night already. I had spent the whole day sorting clothes, choosing the books to take and
the ones to leave behind. The hardest was my set of shoes. And bags. I left only one bag and it
was like a fracture of my heart was left behind.

I still had plans of sneaking it inside my load still. My bag was already swollen with clothes and
books and that was what restricted me. By the time I tried lifting the bag, I knew what load
meant. I couldn't even lift the bag above my ankle!

Who would carry this load with me?

I sat down, tears welling up in my eyes. Did that mean I had to still let somethings go? My teddy?
My heels? I searched the bag to see how many I carried. Five heels weren’t much. Three sandals
and two slippers were also inside the bag. Every side of the bag had heels almost bulging out.

And I would still carry the bed! I stared at the foam and sighed. This was more than packing
abroad. Dad said he wanted to talk with me tonight. One could tell what he wanted to say.

I found another bag and widened its mouth.

I still had foodstuff to carry. Once the drivers see me, they would call jaw-dropping prices. Mine
was like a fish too big to miss.

Well, no one said it would be easy.

I knew mum would surely reduce the contents in my bag. I just needed her to return from her
weekly service. I dropped the bag and decided to pull the bed and lean it on the wall. I still had

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some sweeping to do. As I pushed it up, dust breezed my face, different tiny particles unveiling
themselves inside the bed frame.

I moved the bed and grabbed the broom at the other end of the room. I pulled the wooden bed
frame, dismantling it. As I pulled the first edge, I saw a paper folded but with dust on it. I
picked it.

I went to the chair to sit, flipping it open.

"God, I have a prayer point. It's just one and please, I want you to answer it. I have been
mocked, looked down on, ashamed and disgraced because I am still around. This is my third
year at home after graduating from secondary school. I want it to be the last, Lord. I don't want
to ever, ever, ever, write this exam again."

I scrolled my eyes to the next paragraph.

"I can't be serving you and be experiencing this shame. You said You answer prayers. Now,
prove it Lord. Prove it and give me admission. I am writing my Jamb again and I will apply to
two schools, give me admission. I promise to serve you when I get there. I will live for you and I
will serve you. Thank you Jesus. Amen."

I folded the letter and after seeing the date on the paper, the memories became clear. I could
vividly see where I sat to write the letter. I gently dropped my head into my hands. I felt
indebted to God.

My mum had joined nights upon nights in vigils. Most times, I slept off while mum had
continued praying for me. My dad also took the prayers to his work place. He told me it would
be fine. He would sit by my side in the evening, my hand in his and then pray together with me.

My parents made it easy for me, I knew.

Some of my friends said I had luxury I didn't worth. I replied that I wasn't the cause of their
own predicament. When I got the admission, I thanked God for days. My joy knew no bounds.
I served in my local church with more zeal. My smiles told those that asked me questions that
everything was settled now.

I couldn't wait to leave. I couldn't wait for them to miss my presence the next Sunday.

I found a way to get my knees on the ground again. And as I clasped my hands, I found words
to wield in appreciating God.

Truly, He is faithful.

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 ***

BEAST-ED

Year 1042.

"The drinking of blood, the licking of slime, the tasting of urine, in three days, will awaken the beast, whether
it be child or man."

Current day, year 1816.

"Hit him! He killed the child!"

"Yes!" Another shouted.

"Hit him on his head! He is a murderer!"

"Murderer!" Another screamed.

The mob gathered around a man who was bruised. His eyes were closed faintly and he
struggled to breathe. Some guys lifted him to slam him against the hard rocks and thick shrubs.
His face was torn into many parts, lines making distinct pathways. He was naked with a dirty
clothe wrapped around his waist. His ankles had cuts, his laps were bleeding and the whitish
skin on his neck was already visible for all to see.

Since the law in the village allowed the people to take the law to their hands, they hardly
troubled the king on trivial issues. If the culprit was a murderer, his punishment was his
offence.

If the culprit was a thief, a measure of that which he had stolen in double portion would be
demanded of him and no one cared how he got it. A time span would be given and if he was
yet to remit it, he would face whatever consequence the offended deemed right.

They dragged him by his arms, pulling his almost-lifeless body through the village, making
children run in fear and parents find a scenario to advice their teenagers. The sight was too
bloody for the little ones.

Everyone knew where they were going to drop him.

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His head slammed the bark of several trees, his legs dangled from hitting one rock to being torn
by objects and blades he couldn't see. He didn't shout with each pain they dealt him anymore.
The men that carried him had nothing like mercy in their mind - they were trained not to have
mercy.

Their training required a certain level of meanness and if one bulged into pleading for the sake
of the offender, his lot was to be killed together with the offender.

Somehow, they developed a solid, concrete heart.

The man was thirsty but he had no voice to speak. His mouth was opened so he could breathe
for they had broken his nose. No one heard his story. No one really saw what happened. No
one.

They reached the deepest of the forest and threw his body on the floor. They watched for a
minute and he didn't move. They returned, chanting a strange song. Even if he wasn't alive, the
wolves would appreciate such dinner.

As the setting sun struck his body with his piercing rays, he felt the pinching pain on his body.
The rays were to sharp. His skin was open, flies were buzzing around him, his body was itching
yet he couldn't scratch. He pleaded for death.

The thirst touched his throat again. He brought out his tongue and tasted something on his lips.
Blood.

He spat it out. His blood tasted like a mix of water and bitter wine. He needed to drink
something.

Generations upon generations have told the story of how the men of the first generation
offended the gods and out of their rage, began to kill everything, man and beast. For three
weeks, every morning broke with the death of animals, crops and beings.

The elders made a sacrifice to the gods and came into a covenant.

If anyone drank the three forbidden liquids, then they unlocked their reign. If they broke the
law again, then they unleashed their wrath. Every parent taught their child and passed the
curriculum to their own generation.

The man coughed lightly, breathing slowly.

He waited for death all through the evening but kept drawing air from one time to another.
When would the animals feast on him? It was when he tried opening his eyes that it dawned on
him that he had no eyes anymore.

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He couldn't even cry. The pain of having no eyes stung him. He slowly turned to his right and
after a few minutes, felt a cold liquid on his finger. It gently began to crawl to his hand. He
waited. The liquid was slowly moving, drying on his skin and cooling the pains from his bleeds.
The liquid seemed to be climbing his arm gradually, and he could only imagine if it was a balm.

He pulled his arm closer to his face and licked it. It was a slimy liquid. It was like glue - sticky.
His tongue tasted sour. He moved his other hand over his arm and stumbled on a snail shell. He
pulled the snail from his arm and threw it forward.

He hissed. He should have allowed it lick up his wounds.

It was unbearable sleeping all night with those open injuries.

The next morning came and he couldn't tell if he had woken up from his sleep but he remained
there. He could already feel the light heat come from the sun to his face. He left his mouth
opened all through the night.

Minutes later, he heard steps coming closer to him. He could tell it wasn't human but he didn't
know the animal. He remained still, his lips far apart. He listened attentively to the rhyming. It
was more than an animal. They were about three - based on his guesses. And they walked on all
fours.

Were they mammals with paws? The big cats? Carnivores? Herbivores? He listened but
remained still enough not to arouse any suspect.

At once, they stopped walking.

His heart froze.

He couldn't trace them even with his nose. He kept making guesses, kept wondering the animals
that were before him until he felt another liquid touching his lips, directly entering his throat.

What?! Urine!! Animal urine!! Did his opened mouth look like a latrine?

As he closed his lips he felt his heart stop beating.

The last he remembered, his hand began to grow bigger. He felt his head dividing... no...
enlarging. He felt his throat getting wider... He felt a heat burning in his throat... And everything
happened in seconds.

That was the last he remembered.

***

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A LETTER FROM A DIEING MAN

Year 2097

Hello? Are you there?

Do you understand my language?
I fear this language has become extinct here but if you can still understand... then you can read
this.

You don't know me and I don't know you. I don't know whose eyes will see this letter but I'm
glad it's you. I have a message for you.

Technology became more advanced. We now have flying bikes, robots in schools, vehicles that
can turn to a large cushion just with a button. We have many meals from the ones you have now.
The kids became more exposed than their age allowed.

There are transparent phones everywhere - you could even sit on them without knowing. I'm
trying to remember some other things but I can't because right now, I'm in a cave.

There's a torch I lighted with a stick but it's already dying. I'm also already dying. Once the torch
goes off, I will have nothing to write to you anymore.

Okay, I'm trying to remember some things. We have more technology children than real
children. The world is completely upside down. People are no longer operating phones every
time. Phones now operate many human beings.

I'm trying to let you know that I'm from your world. There are also many churches, thousands
of them but only some hundreds teach the truth. I fear they aren't even up to an hundred.
Many things have changed.

The fashion and trends are now quite foolish. The reigning colour of hair is dark green or sky
blue. Crop top has gone extinct. Baggy is the fashion now. Many are confused. The education
system is terrible. Textbooks are not used any more in schools. iPads and iPhones are in the
palms of every child. There are a lot of electronic currencies than physical money.

The average youth has at least, three gadgets.

I have said enough already. I have a message for you.

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I hope you'd take it seriously since I have shown you I am from your world.

The torch is dying fast. I need to be quick...

Everything man desired and explored didn't give satisfaction, didn't give fulfilment. With all the
advancement, you'd think that man became successful and happy but the rate of suicide,
scamming, murder, corruption and perversion increased. Sin was not the order of the day. Sin
was the commander of the day.

Every system and structure legalized sin. I'm sorry to say this, but even churches. The teachings
of our Lord Jesus became polluted, the gospel was as forgotten as the stone age. The word of
God became just a book in many homes with only a few that still had faith in it.

Many lived in depression. Millions lived outside their purpose. The ones I see prosper here,
regardless of the decadence, are those that have kept the word of God. Those that refused to
be swayed by the things flying around.

I'm talking about those that truly know God not those that call themselves Christians.

My friend, please know God.

I know you may ask how to find him. But if you're reading this letter, it's God's desire to also
find you. Search for Him. Ask around. Search everywhere. Make sure you find Him and hold
Him tight. He is the only One that can truly preserve you.

You may have to join a church with believers who lift up their hands in holiness.

Here, you find ten thousand churches outside of God's will before you find one true church.
Churches are now bars. Comedy centers. Talent shows. Entertainment platforms. The churches
around worship Mammon. And they don't know it!

They work on politics. They...

My torch has only a little light. It's dying out. This letter may even end sooner than I thought.
But I have passed my message.

Find the One and true God. That's the only ark there is. He alone will preserve your soul as He
has preserved mine. Do everything for His name sake. That which you cherish now will soon
pass away. It doesn't last. Your life will soon end. I'm not wishing you death, I'm reminding you
the scriptures.

Life is like grass. It shines today and withers tomorrow.

Let Christ be your own bargain. Let glorifying Him be your greatest obsession. Christ Himself

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knows how to take care of His own.

Everything is vanity, I tell you. The phones you like now are not even spoken of again. New
ones have come up. That's how it's always going to be. These things can't sustain you. Only One
person.

Even as my torch dies now, I want you to know that...

Thank you for reading. God bless you.

These stories were written to edify, educate and entertain you.

What were your experiences while you read the short stories? Which of the stories did you
enjoy the most? Which one blessed your life?

Please, I will like to know.

Let me know how you feel and what you think about these stories. Thank you for reading
through. I really appreciate.

Ehimwenma Fortune is a son of God who believes biblical truths and principles can be
taught through writing. He is a teacher of God’s Word, a writer, an engineering student in the
Federal University of Technology, Akure (FUTA). He is a man who loves helping people meet
their spiritual needs and solve their problems. He has authored a few books like, Delayed Justice,
Two sides of Faith and Un-doomed, and still keeps writing as long as there are souls to keep
reading. He loves reading, writing and talking to people; all of which provide him ideas for
writing. He has decided to leave the world with several stories that will point them back to
following God’s Word.

You can reach him via:

Facebook: Ehimwenma Fortune Whatsapp: +2349039603496

Email: ehimwenmafortune@gmail.com

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