Kingsley Ukwueze @kingsleysom

I had never been one to follow fashion trends, but there was something about the cargo pant craze that caught my eye. Everywhere I looked, young people were sporting these baggy trousers, and they seemed to be all the rage.
Even though the price tag was a bit challenging, my curiosity got the better of me, and I found myself wanting to join in on the trend.

After some haggling with the sellers, I finally managed to negotiate a pair for myself. Excitement bubbled within me as I slipped the cargo pants on, but as I gazed at the reflection in the large mirror, my heart sank. The trousers seemed to engulf me, and the style was a far cry from my usual wardrobe choices. I felt like a clown in an oversized disguise.
The flair end was it's regular style but it wasn't working for me.

With a heavy breath, I resignedly hung the cargo pants in my wardrobe, silently acknowledging that they would remain nothing more than an addition to my collection.
Despite their price and popularity, I couldn't see myself ever donning them again. Some fashion trends, it seemed, were better admired from a distance.

I woke up this morning, I heard the sound of raindrops hitting my window. I opened my eyes and looked out. It was still drizzling heavily outside. The rain had started last night and continued into Sunday morning.

I usually love going to the early morning church service, but looking at the heavy rain, I knew I wouldn't be able to make it. I pulled my warm bedsheet up to cover my cheeks, and soon I was back into a cozy doze. The cold weather made my bed feel even more comfortable, and the soft sounds of raindrops on the roof helped me fall back to sleep.

As the morning went on, the rain continued to pour down. It was a perfect day for staying indoors. I spent the morning reading a book and enjoying a lazy breakfast. I really missed the early morning service, but I knew there was an evening service at 8 pm. I made a mental note to go to that one.

By the time the evening rolled around, the rain had finally stopped. I decided to go to the 8 PM service. As I walked to the church, I could feel the freshness in the air after the rain. The service was really nice. It felt great to be back in church, surrounded by the warmth of the congregation, and the rainy day made me appreciate the beauty of coming together for worship even more.

The rain might have kept me from the morning service, but it couldn't stop me from finding peace and joy in the evening one. It turned out to be a wonderful day after all!

always saw my music box (mp3 player) as the best. it was a limited edition, mind you it wasn't that expensive. when I saw the music box online, I had to quickly call the seller, I didn't have money, except for the few pennies left.

I needed a music box, it fills in the mood when its boring, it keeps the room lively and moreover, it entertains a visitor rather than a quiet atmosphere. There were many things that I needed a music box for and it wasn't a bad or reckless expense to me.

until I got the music box in my hands did I realize that it had not a good bass, it wasn't up to size to what I saw on the picture displayed online. But then, it had some unique features also, it's battery lasted extraordinarily more than the regular and it had this spectacular display of light display when on. I had to content myself with the its good side

Well, I assumed myself a contented, but deep down, I knew that I had made a bad choice ordering a product that wasn't tested and trusted, all for wanting to stand out. Till now, I am yet to know the name of the music box that I bought with my innocent money.

Two days ago, I visited a friend and he had this Zealot speaker. I stood in awe as the room lit up in the most energetic uproar of its bass.
It left me to know that its always better to go for things that have already been tested and proven good than going for something you have no knowledge about.

As for my own music box, it is still serving its purpose though.

My sister fell ill last week, and I took on the responsibility of caring for her. On Monday, I visited her and found her lying in bed with a high fever. I was worried and decided to check on her regularly to ensure she was getting better.

On Wednesday, I went to see her again, and her fever was still persistent. I prayed hard for her recovery, hoping she would soon be back on her feet. I made sure to bring her medication, water, and food to help her feel more comfortable.

On Friday, I visited her once more, and although her fever had subsided a bit, she was still quite weak. I continued to pray for her and encouraged her to stay strong, knowing that she would get through this.
As the days went by, I kept a close eye on her, making sure she was taking her medication and eating well. I also helped with household chores to reduce her stress and workload.

On Sunday, today, I was thrilled to see my sister up and about, looking much better than she had all week. We decided to go to church together, and I was relieved to see her strong enough to attend.

Throughout our time at church, I kept a watchful eye on her, making sure she wasn't overexerting herself. I was grateful to see her smiling and chatting with friends, a clear sign of her recovery.
After church, we returned home, and I could see that she was now well enough to take care of herself. I was proud of the progress she had made and knew that my care and support had played a part in her recovery.

I'm grateful that my sister is now on the mend, and I'm proud of the role I played in helping her through a tough time. I realize that caring for a loved one can be challenging, but it's also incredibly rewarding to see them recover and thrive once again.

Yesterday, we held what we call "Iju-ase" in the Igbo culture, which translates to marriage introduction in English. The occasion went by swiftly, but it was quite challenging for me. My dad had assigned me the task of welcoming most of the guests, and it turned out to be exhausting. I had to ensure that every guest felt welcomed by guiding them to their seats and attending to their requests for food.

Moreover, I found myself scurrying to buy different drinks since some guests didn't fancy the brand they were initially served. It was a bit overwhelming, but miraculously, everything fell into place. We had an ample supply of rice, different types of swallow, and a variety of delicious soups.

Despite the challenges, I was certain that when the event ended, everyone left satisfied. The atmosphere was filled with joy, laughter, and the upbeat sound of music. The dance by the bride and groom captured everyone's attention, and the delightful commentaries were heartening. In the end, people were entertained, and I was relieved that everything had turned out well.

Heading to pick up my laptop from the repair shop was like going on a mission. I'd been without it for days, and I couldn't wait to have it back. I was pumped to catch up on work and chat with my friends online. It was going to be awesome.

But as I walked down the street, I noticed some sketchy-looking people hanging around. They seemed like trouble, and I got this uneasy feeling in my gut. I clutched my bag tighter, feeling a bit nervous.

Then, one of them stepped in front of me with a mean grin. He demanded I give them my stuff. My heart raced as I realized they were trying to rob me!

I tried to walk past them, but they surrounded me, blocking my way. I knew they wanted my laptop with everything in it, and I wasn't about to let them take it.

So, I swung my bag at one of them and took off running. They chased after me through the streets, but I was determined to keep my laptop safe.

Finally, I made it to the repair shop, out of breath but relieved. I grabbed my laptop and walked away, feeling grateful to have escaped without any harm. It was like something out of a movie, but I was just glad to have my laptop back in my hands.

Last two Sundays, I found myself drawn to the idea of joining the church choir. It wasn't something I had ever considered before, but there was a pull in my heart, urging me to give it a try. With a mix of excitement and nervousness, I approached the choir director after the service and expressed my interest in joining.

With a warm smile, the director welcomed me with open arms, assuring me that everyone was welcome in the choir, regardless of their singing ability. Encouraged by his words, I eagerly attended my first choir practice later that week.

As I stood among the other choir members, I couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging. However, as we began to sing, I quickly realized that my voice was not quite as polished as the others.

Despite my initial self-doubt, I pushed through, determined to give it my all. I may not have hit all the right notes, and my timing may have been off at times, but there was something extraordinary about the experience. The harmonies and melodies lifted my spirits, filling me with joy and a sense of fulfillment.

As the week went by, I continued to attend choir practice faithfully, eager to improve my singing skills and contribute to the group. With each session, I gained more confidence in my voice, learning to blend in with the others and play my part to the best of my ability.

Sure, I may not have played my part perfectly, but that didn't matter in the end. Today, I received a special commendation from the choirmaster.
It was kinda renewing when he pointed out to other choristers to follow in my footsteps.
What could be more gladdening?

back in primary school, I had an intense passion for action movies. I was captivated by the heroic feats of actors like Jack Chan, Jet Li, and James Bond, and I yearned to emulate their daring exploits. To me, action films were not just a form of entertainment but a depiction of real-life heroics, even at my tender age.

One day, fueled by my fervor for these movies, I took it upon myself to bring the action to life. I ventured into the woods and fashioned a makeshift sword from a sturdy branch, envisioning myself as a fearless warrior. With my sword in hand, I stealthily made my way into a neighboring farm, where I proceeded to engage in my own version of sword mastery, slashing and swishing through the air.

However, my exhilarating adventure came to an abrupt end when the owner of the farm discovered the devastation I had wrought upon the crops. Understandably, the neighbor was not pleased with my actions, and I was promptly confronted with the consequences of my reckless imitation of action movie stunts.

After some several strokes from my dad, I learnt my lessons. But one this was unforgettable. That moment in the farm was refreshing, filled with authority and power, nothing dared stood against me, any crop that did, I cut them down.

Didnt try approching any farmland from then, I only practices my sword skills with the air and waited for the day villains will show up.