Mindviewers Stories

Once upon a sunny day, Sarah and her friends decided to escape the city heat and head to the beach. With towels, sunscreen, and a cooler packed with snacks, they embarked on their adventure.

As they arrived at the shore, the salty breeze greeted them, and the sound of crashing waves filled the air. They set up their spot on the soft, warm sand, laying out their towels and umbrellas.

Eager to dive in, they ran towards the water, laughing and splashing each other along the way. The cool waves refreshed their spirits as they swam and floated, enjoying the freedom of the open sea.

After a while, they decided to try their hand at building sandcastles. With buckets and shovels in hand, they crafted elaborate structures adorned with seashells and driftwood, each trying to outdo the other with their creativity.

As the day progressed, they took breaks to enjoy the delicious snacks from their cooler: sandwiches, fruit, and refreshing drinks. They lounged under the warm sun, chatting and soaking in the laid-back atmosphere.

In the afternoon, they gathered for a game of beach volleyball. With teams set, they laughed and cheered each other on, diving into the sand to save the ball from hitting the ground.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the horizon, they gathered around a bonfire they had built earlier. They roasted marshmallows, telling stories and singing songs under the starry sky.

With the sky painted in hues of pink and orange, they knew it was time to head home. Reluctantly, they packed up their belongings, leaving behind memories of a perfect day at the beach, already looking forward to their next adventure by the sea.

Just as I had settled in the sitting room to take a rest after preparing a particularly demanding meal, a sudden burst of gunshots pierced through the air. The troubling sound seemed uncomfortably close, prompting my father to recall some rumors. He mentioned the whispers circulating about the safety of our neighborhood following the completion of the second hotel along our street. I was quite fond of the new hotel project and had eagerly watched its progress.

I swiftly interjected, dismissing the unsettling rumors as baseless conjecture. In my view, development should always be welcomed, and my father eventually agreed. To lighten the mood, he began to recount the story of an old, now-demolished motel that once stood in the neighborhood during the '90s. Although the tale had a tragic undertone, I always relished listening to stories, and this was no exception.

As my father spoke, I appreciated that the arrival of a new hotel was a testament to progress and growth within our community. While the sudden disturbance had been disconcerting, I found comfort in the knowledge that the neighborhood was evolving, and I was hopeful that the new establishment would bring positive changes.

Once upon a time, in a quaint village nestled between rolling hills and whispering streams, there lived a girl named Amara. Amara was a vision of grace and kindness, with eyes like shimmering emeralds and a smile that could brighten the gloomiest day.

She spent her days helping her parents tend to their modest farm, her nimble fingers weaving through the fields like a dance. Her heart was as vast as the endless skies above, and her dreams soared higher than the tallest trees in the forest.

Despite the simplicity of her life, Amara's spirit was adventurous. She would often wander into the woods, where she found solace among the ancient trees and playful creatures. It was there, in the heart of nature, that her imagination flourished.

One day, while gathering wildflowers by the riverbank, Amara stumbled upon a wounded bird. Without hesitation, she carefully cradled the bird in her hands and tended to its injuries with gentle touches and soothing words. Miraculously, the bird recovered under her care, and from that day on, it became her loyal companion, soaring alongside her on her daily journeys.

As time passed, news of Amara's kindness and compassion spread throughout the village. People would seek her out for advice, comfort, and healing. She became known as the village's guardian angel, a beacon of hope and love in a world often clouded by darkness.

But Amara's greatest adventure was yet to come. One starry night, as she sat beneath a blanket of twinkling stars, her bird companion by her side, a shooting star streaked across the sky. With a whispered wish, Amara closed her eyes, her heart full of dreams waiting to unfold.

The next morning, the village awoke to a sight that took their breath away. In the heart of the village square stood a magnificent tree, its branches stretching towards the heavens, adorned with sparkling lights that danced like fireflies. It was as if magic had woven itself into the very fabric of their existence.

Amara stood beneath the tree, her eyes shimmering with joy and wonder. The villagers gathered around, their faces aglow with gratitude and awe. From that day forward, the tree became a symbol of hope and unity, a reminder of the power of kindness and the beauty of dreams.

And so, the story of Amara, the village girl with a heart of gold, lived on in the hearts of those who knew her. She taught them that no act of kindness is ever too small, and that true magic lies within each and every one of us, waiting to be shared with the world.

Yesterday, after church, my younger siblings and I were walking along the street, chatting about our day, when suddenly, a large dog came charging toward us. It was unleashed, running freely down the street. Panic surged through me as I remembered stories of dog attacks, but I knew I had to protect my siblings.

Instinct kicked in, and I quickly ordered my siblings to stand their ground. Fear gripped me tightly, but as the oldest, I had to stand up to the challenge. The dog kept barreling toward us, its barks growing louder and more aggressive with each passing second. I tried to stay calm, but my heart pounded in my chest.

As the dog closed in on us, I took a deep breath and remembered advice I'd heard about dealing with aggressive dogs. With shaky confidence, I stepped forward, trying to assert dominance and show the dog that we weren't afraid. It was a risky move, but I had to do something to protect my siblings.

To my relief, the dog finally started to slow down as it approached us. Its aggressive barking continued, but there was a hint of hesitation in its movements. Behind it, I could see the owners frantically running to catch up, calling out to their pet.

Taking another step forward, I held my ground, refusing to back down. The dog, sensing my determination, began to back off, its barks turning into low growls as it retreated. Finally, it stopped, its gaze locked on me for a moment before turning and walking slowly back toward its owners.

As the owners caught up and secured the dog's leash, I let out a sigh of relief, my knees weak with fear. My siblings and I exchanged nervous glances, grateful that the encounter had ended without anyone getting hurt. It was a close call, but in the end, standing firm had been the right decision.

Once upon a time, in a bustling city nestled between mountains and seas, there was a curious little girl named Luna. She had eyes that sparkled like the stars and a heart full of wonder. Luna lived with her grandmother, Sofia, in a cozy cottage surrounded by a magical garden.

One day, as Luna explored the garden, she discovered a hidden pathway covered in ivy. With a mix of excitement and curiosity, she followed the winding trail deeper into the woods until she stumbled upon an ancient, overgrown fountain. Intrigued, Luna brushed aside the moss and leaves to reveal a shimmering pool of water.

To her amazement, the water was enchanted. As she gazed into its depths, she saw glimpses of far-off lands, fantastical creatures, and wondrous adventures. Luna couldn't resist the temptation and dipped her hand into the pool. Instantly, she was transported into a world beyond her wildest dreams.

In this enchanted realm, Luna met a mischievous fox named Jasper, who became her loyal companion. Together, they embarked on daring quests, solved riddles, and encountered magical beings like talking trees and singing rivers.

But their greatest adventure began when they discovered an ancient prophecy hidden in a forgotten library. It spoke of a looming darkness threatening the realm and the key to its salvation lying in the hands of a courageous soul. Luna, with her pure heart and unwavering bravery, realized that she was the chosen one.

With Jasper by her side and the support of newfound friends, Luna embarked on a journey to save the enchanted realm. Along the way, she faced trials that tested her courage, kindness, and determination. Yet, she never wavered, guided by the belief that even the smallest of heroes can change the course of destiny.

In the end, Luna and her friends triumphed over the darkness, restoring peace and harmony to the enchanted realm. As she bid farewell to her magical companions and returned home through the ivy-covered pathway, Luna carried with her the memories of her extraordinary adventures and the knowledge that courage and kindness truly make the world a brighter place.

A man who was fond of beating his wife at every slight opportunity, was asked why he beats her? His response was, "I have a very short temper and I get angry easily. Unconsciously, I usually slap her when she raises her voice or provokes me."
The following day, as the man was driving to work, a uniformed army officer stopped his car, for no reason. When he tried to complain or protest, the FEMALE soldier shouted at him and asked him to be quiet.

The female officer collected his car keys and commanded him to sit on the bare floor. Uncle jejely complied, without saying "pim" not to talk of raising his hand to slap.

The female officer tried hard to provoke him but uncle controlled his short temper. Suddenly, uncle became meek and cool like cucumber.

After one hour of delay, the officer told uncle to stand up, gave him his keys, and asked him to leave. Uncle said "thank you ma" and got into his car.

As he was about to drive off, his phone rang. It was Pius, his best friend. Pius had been watching the drama from across the street.Pius mocked him on the phone:
"Fidelis, I thought you said you have anger problems and your temper is very short? How come you were very gentle/quiet when the female officer shouted at you and seriously provoked you?
Why didn't you slap her like you usually do to Catherine, your wife?
Fidelis, let me tell you the truth, you don't have anger problem, what you have is RESPECT PROBLEM. You don't respect your wife!!!

Where there is RESPECT, SELF-CONTROL is AUTOMATIC!!! The remote control is not in your wife's voice or emotions. The CONTROL is in your own WILL, your personal DECISION.
Your Relationship will become better, only when you learn to respect your Spouse.

The keyword here is, Respect.

Once upon a time, in a small village, there was a young girl named Akua. She lived with her cruel and abusive stepmother, who made her do all the household chores and treated her like a slave. Akua's father, a kind and gentle man, had passed away when she was just a child, and her stepmother had married him for his wealth and property.

Akua's life was a nightmare. She was constantly beaten, starved, and belittled by her stepmother. Despite her hardships, Akua was a bright and curious girl who longed to go to school and make a better life for herself.

One day, Akua's stepmother went too far, and Akua was left with no choice but to run away from home. With a small bag of clothes and a few coins, she set out into the unknown, determined to make a new life for herself.

As she traveled to the city, Akua faced many dangers and challenges. She had to beg for food and sleep on the streets, all while avoiding the clutches of her stepmother, who was determined to find her and drag her back home.

But Akua was resilient and resourceful. She soon found work as a maid in a wealthy household, where she was treated with kindness and respect. She also began attending night school, where she excelled in her studies and discovered a passion for science and mathematics.

Years went by, and Akua's hard work and determination paid off. She earned a scholarship to a prestigious university, where she studied engineering and became one of the top students in her class.

Meanwhile, Akua's stepmother had been searching for her everywhere, but Akua had changed her name and kept a low profile, always staying one step ahead of her tormentor.

Finally, the day came when Akua graduated at the top of her class and landed a high-paying job at a top engineering firm. She was hailed as a rising star in her field and became a role model for young girls everywhere.

But just as Akua was about to start her new life, her stepmother appeared out of nowhere, demanding that Akua come back home and take care of her. Akua, now a confident and successful woman, stood up to her stepmother and refused to go back.

In a dramatic confrontation, Akua revealed her true identity and exposed her stepmother's cruelty and abuse to the world. Her stepmother was arrested and brought to justice, and Akua was finally free to live her life in peace and happiness.

And so, Akua's story became a legend, inspiring countless young girls and women to stand up against abuse and oppression, and to never give up on their dreams, no matter how impossible they may seem.

Once upon a time, in the bustling city of Metropia, there lived a man named Gregory Greedmore. Gregory was known far and wide for his insatiable greed and ruthless business tactics. He owned a chain of factories that produced widgets, the latest technological marvels that everyone in Metropia simply had to have. Gregory's factories churned out widgets day and night, with little regard for the environment or the well-being of his workers. He paid them meager wages, cut corners on safety measures, and ignored complaints about the hazardous conditions in his factories. Despite his immense wealth, Gregory always wanted more. He would often be heard saying, "There's no such thing as too much money!" His mansion was a testament to his greed, filled with lavish furniture, priceless art pieces, and a garage full of luxury cars.
One day, a young inventor named Alice approached Gregory with a revolutionary idea for a new type of widget that would be more efficient and environmentally friendly. Excited by the potential profits, Gregory struck a deal with Alice, promising her a small percentage of the profits in exchange for her idea. As soon as the new widget hit the market, it became an instant success. People loved its efficiency and eco-friendly design. Sales skyrocketed, and Gregory's wealth grew even more But as time went on, Alice noticed that she was not receiving the promised share of the profits. When she confronted Gregory, he brushed her off, claiming that the contract was not specific enough and that she was lucky to have received anything at all.
Feeling betrayed and cheated, Alice decided to take matters into her own hands. She filed a lawsuit against Gregory, citing breach of contract and demanding her fair share of the profits.The case garnered widespread attention, and soon, the truth about Gregory's greed and unethical business practices came to light. His reputation was tarnished, and his factories faced boycotts from consumers who were appalled by his disregard for workers' rights and environmental sustainability. In the end, Gregory lost the lawsuit and was forced to pay a hefty settlement to Alice. His empire crumbled as consumers turned to more ethical companies for their widgets, leaving Gregory a cautionary tale of the perils of unchecked

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.

The crowded Idumota market was in chaos as people rushed to escape the flames engulfing the nearby stalls. Iya Oja stood amidst the chaos. It was not her stall that went down in flames with fully loaded goods. If she had one, it was an empty space where market levies are counted. Adeola, her 14-year-old maid, cowered beside her, trembling with fear. The fire outbreak was so sudden that everybody had to scamper for safety. Picking up her iPhone 13 that her son recently sent her from the US along with a few other valuables, Iya Oja fled from her seemingly empty office. Sadly, her purse was not luckily in sight at the moment. That was not too much of a problem. Adeola will fetch it even if that would cost her life.

"Iwo babalawo yi, lo gba apamọwọ mi fun mi!" She yelled at Adeola, her voice piercing through the chaos. The fire had overtaken her empty office where she ran out from and where the purse was supposed to be. Adeola hesitated, her eyes wide with terror, but Iya Oja's glare left no room for disobedience. The young girl crept towards the burning stall, her small frame trembling as she tried to lift the heavy wooden beam that pinned down the purse. Flames licked at her face, and she screamed as the wood fell, trapping her beneath its weight.

Iya Oja's face contorted in rage as she realized her purse was gone, but her anger quickly turned to concern as she saw Adeola's limp body being pulled from the wreckage. The market crowd gasped in horror as Adeola's charred and battered body was revealed. Iya Oja's eyes welled up with tears, but they were not tears of sorrow or remorse; they were tears of anger and frustration.

For seven long years, Adeola had toiled in Iya Oja's service, a slave to her whims and fancies. She had been denied the joys of childhood, the comfort of a warm bed, and the solace of a loving embrace. And now, she lay broken and burned, a victim of Iya Oja's insatiable greed and cruelty. The market crowd murmured among themselves, their voices a gentle breeze that carried the whispers of condemnation and disgust. Some dared to approach Iya Oja, but she warned them off with a fierce glare, a lioness protecting her den.

Adeola has met tens of other girls that suffered a similar fate in the hands of Iya Oja. Some were 16 years old girls that looked like 10 years due to constant heavy weight they carry that stopped their growth. When they are too weakened by hunger and useless to Iya Oja's service, they disappear without traces. Nobody has dared to ask her the way about of the little girls she successfully turned into dummies but whispers are in the wind that they alway end up in the hands of organ harvesters.

PS:

@blvck_boy
@paschaline
@huways370
@rally
@damselbabe
@nekkybella
@sewhento
@brownshuga
@maxeinstein
@mindseth
@chimatexlamboonu
@guru01
@dubemaster
@ugocc
@onyisom
@okafor
@kingsl
@darling
@chuks
@adaugo
@jumbo
@ninad
@lydia
@love1
@emma44
@surd

Kindly read and tell me what you think. I like using my story to relate real life issues. Scenarios of this nature is happening in Idumota as we speak. Pls don't forget to like and share the story if you like it. Thanks

Ade was a bright and curious child, always eager to explore the world around him. One day, while playing in the bustling market, he stumbled upon a mysterious old man sitting under the shade of a baobab tree.

The old man had a kind smile and twinkling eyes that seemed to hold a wealth of wisdom. Ade was drawn to him instantly, and they struck up a conversation. As they talked, Ade learned that the old man's name was Babatunde, and he was a storyteller who traveled from village to village sharing tales of Yoruba folklore.

Fascinated by Babatunde's stories, Ade begged him to share more. And so, under the golden light of the setting sun, Babatunde began to weave a magical tapestry of myths and legends, filled with gods and goddesses, spirits and monsters.

From that day on, Ade and Babatunde became fast friends. Every evening, Ade would rush to the market to listen to Babatunde's stories, enraptured by the richness of Yoruba culture and tradition. Through their friendship, Ade not only learned about his heritage but also discovered the power of storytelling to connect people across generations.

As the years passed, Ade grew into a young man, but his friendship with Babatunde remained as strong as ever. Together, they continued to share stories, laughter, and wisdom, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

Tunde's heart was a canvas of love, painted with vibrant hues of devotion, and Tosi was the masterpiece that adorned its center. He loved her with every fiber of his being, every beat of his heart, and every whisper of his soul. When her life hung in the balance, like a delicate petal trembling in the breeze, Tunde gave her the most precious gift – his kidney. The surgery was a symphony of hope, a melody of life, and Tosi's smile bloomed like a sunrise, illuminating the world around her.

Tunde's love was a gentle brook that flowed effortlessly, nourishing Tosi's parched soul. He was the anchor that held her steady, the shelter that shielded her from life's tempests, and the warm embrace that soothed her fears. But like a fleeting dream, their love was short-lived. Barely two years after her operation, a healthier and wealthier suitor appeared on the scene, and Tosi's eyes wandered like a lost traveler in a foreign land. She forgot the sacrifices Tunde had made, the pain he had endured, and the love he had poured out like a libation.

Tunde's heart shattered like a mirror, reflecting the shards of his shattered dreams. His soul was a desolate landscape, ravaged by the storm of Tosi's abandonment. He felt like a tree that had been uprooted, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. The ache in his soul was a constant reminder of the transience of love and the cruelty of human hearts. He had given his all, only to be discarded like a worn-out shoe, left to gather dust in the corner of Tosi's memory.

Yet, even in the depths of his sorrow, Tunde's love remained pure and unwavering, a beacon of hope in the darkness. He prayed for Tosi's happiness, even as she walked away from him, leaving behind only the echoes of their love and the scar on his body that would forever remind him of the woman he loved. Tunde's story is a testament to the enduring power of true devotion, a reminder that even in the darkest depths of sorrow, the human spirit can find solace in the beauty of its own resilience.

PS:
@blvck_boy
@paschaline
@huways370
@rally
@damselbabe
@nekkybella
@sewhento
@brownshuga

Kindly read and tell me what you think. I like writing what people will like to read so suggestion or criticism will be appreciated

I want to take you all back in time to when I was in my early years, let's say 10/11. The interesting age, where the world was fun, where you can play with anything and everywhere.

Let's look past the playful part, my family is a learned one, we were rarely allowed to play after schools but during the festive seasons or long breaks, I was sent to the village along with my siblings to stay with my granny.

Life in the village is everything that home isnt, there we were free to play. Intact, there was a specific time that all neighbouring children comes out to play, it was usually lively and joyous.

Did I fail to mention that we did not need gas to cook? We used firewood and how we go about in search of these firewood is a whole new experience.

There was this massive mansion been constructed along the village square as at then, we decided to go hunt for some plank woods there. It was during this quest that we scaled a tall fence to get into its vicinity.

I was a newbie in this kind of lifestyle but I couldn't dull or else those village children would make mockery of me.
Replicated their moves and I was in.
We got enough woods, each of us with our own burden, now it was time to climb out, with a lot of tussle, I got my wood over the fencing and climbed on also.

I was seated on the fence waiting for the rest to climb up so we can get going when all of a sudden, there was a shout.
"The owner of the house is here!"
Everybody scampered, I didn't know what to do, I couldn't jump off due to the height of where I was, but I was struggling to get down when I slipped.

My head was banging when my eyes opened, I had fallen flat on the solid ground and felt pain all over.
I got up after all by the way, and the rest of the story...
I wish not to tell 😆

In the sweltering streets of Ikorodu, a father's world crumbled beneath his feet as his talented musician son was brutally snatched away by the cold hand of death. The once vibrant melodies that filled their home were now replaced with haunting whispers of accusation. The community, quick to judge, pointed fingers at the grieving father, branding him a murderer. The weight of their scorn crushed his soul, as he struggled to come to terms with the loss of his child. The memories of their laughter, their late-night conversations, and their shared passion for music now taunted him like a cruel reminder of his supposed guilt.

But fate, in its mysterious ways, slowly unraveled the truth. The son's wife, once a picture of innocence and devotion, was revealed to be the mastermind behind the heinous crime. Her deceit and betrayal cut deeper than any knife, as it emerged that she had killed her husband to conceal the shameful secret that their only son was not his. Mentioning DNA around her was the greatest offense anyone would commit against her because that for her son would be the evidence her remaining few supporters need to desert her - and perhaps, completely clear the father's name. Even so, the scars of the ordeal would still linger, a constant reminder of the darkness that humanity is capable of.

Close relatives, the very few that still cared, wandered through the desolate landscape of their hearts. The must have realized that the devil isn't the one fingers are pointed at. It was not the horned creature of myth and legend, but the one who wore a mask of love and deceived them all. Where is the goodness in masked angels?

Title: The Forgotten Key

In a small town nestled between rolling hills, there was an old, abandoned mansion rumored to be haunted. Locals whispered about its eerie past, but few dared to venture near it. One day, Sarah, a curious young girl with a penchant for adventure, decided to explore the mansion.

As she stepped through the creaky door, Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. The mansion was filled with dust-covered furniture and cobwebbed corners. Ignoring her growing unease, Sarah pressed on, determined to uncover its secrets.

In the dim light, Sarah stumbled upon a locked door. Intrigued, she searched the mansion until she found an old, rusted key hidden beneath a pile of debris. With trembling hands, she inserted the key into the lock and turned it, the door creaking open to reveal a hidden staircase leading underground.

Heart pounding, Sarah descended into the darkness, her footsteps echoing off the walls. At the bottom, she discovered a vast chamber filled with treasures long forgotten – jewels, artifacts, and ancient relics glinting in the faint light.

But amidst the riches, Sarah found something unexpected – a diary. She dusted it off and began to read, discovering the tragic tale of a young girl who had once lived in the mansion. The girl had hidden away in the underground chamber, seeking solace from a world that had abandoned her.

As Sarah read on, she realized that the girl's story mirrored her own feelings of loneliness and isolation. Moved by empathy, Sarah vowed to uncover the truth behind the girl's fate and give her the closure she deserved.

With newfound determination, Sarah embarked on a quest to uncover the mystery of the forgotten key and the girl it once belonged to. And in doing so, she found not only answers but also a sense of belonging she had long been searching for.

Earlier this evening, I decided to attend a midnight prayer. It had been a long day, and I was struggling to stay awake as the clock ticked closer to midnight. I found it hard to muster the strength to concentrate. I kept dozing off and losing focus. It was a battle to keep my eyes open.

However, at one point, something surreal happened. A strange sensation washed over me, and I felt the overwhelming presence of God. Suddenly, I was filled with a newfound energy and vibrancy. It was as if a surge of divine power had awakened my spirit.

Buoyed by this spiritual awakening, I managed to stay alert and attentive throughout the prayers until about 12:15. It was then that I realized it was almost 1 am, and I hadn't yet completed my ritual of publishing a short story version on mindviewers.

So, I sought quick permission and here I am, writing this story. Thankful for that powerful moment during the midnight prayer that reinvigorated my spirit and allowed me to fulfill my commitment.

During my early teens, my family and I had a familiar path that we often followed, lined with a towering breadfruit tree. The tree's sprawling branches cast shade over a considerable stretch of the path, and it was common knowledge that people would always hurry through this part of the route to avoid the peril of a breadfruit falling on them.

Over time, countless tales had circulated about unsuspecting individuals getting struck by falling breadfruits, resulting in serious injuries. Despite this, on one particular day, my family and I decided that we would not succumb to fear. "Why should we run today when we never had a breadfruit fall on us before?" we reasoned.

As we ventured down the narrow path, we watched another person take a leisurely stroll beneath the breadfruit tree and felt a surge of anxiety and unease. Moments later, a loud crash reverberated through the air, and we all turned to see a breadfruit plummet to the ground. Terrified, we screamed and sprinted in every direction.

In the aftermath, as we caught our breath, we pondered the narrow escape. "What if we had merely walked as we had planned?" we mused. It was a valuable lesson learned: sometimes, heeding warnings and being cautious is more than just an old superstition.

Once there was a very wealthy man who was suffering from severe eye pain.He consulted many doctors and try their treatment but nothing helped.Even after consuming so many drugs to fix his eyes he still suffered from pain and that and that pain in eye persisted more than before.

At last,he heard about a monk who was famous for being an expert in treating such problems.He went to him and told him about his problem

Monk understood his problem and said that, "You should concentrate only on green colors and try not to let your eyes fall on any other colors. "
Man finds this prescription strange but he was despirate to find cure and decided to try it.
Wealthy man called for group of painters and purchased loads of green paint and directed that every object his eye was likely to fall to be painted green just as the monk had directed.

Just in few days everything around that man was in green. Wealthy man made sure that nothing around would in any other color.

After some days, monk came to visit wealthy man, millionaire servant ran with bucket of green paint and poured it all over him.

Monk asked servants reason for this. Servant replied, “You were wearing saffron and we can’t let our master see any other color than green..”

Hearing this monk laughed and said, “If only.. you had purchased a pair of green colored glasses for him to wear.. worth just few dollars..
You could have saved all these walls, articles and also would have been able to save a large amount of his fortune.. You cannot paint the world green.”

Moral:
It is foolish to shape/ Change the world, Let’s Shape ourselves first.. Let us change our vision and the world will appear accordingly

Pretty maid (episode 3)
Sandra:his very rude and dangerous, you better not go there
Tina: don't worry (took the food and headed to davin's room)
Davin:who is there
Tina: it's your new maid.i brought your food
Davin:I thought I told your colleague to take the food away
Tina:sir you need to eat, I'm coming in (opened the door and kept the food for him)
Davin: how dare you come in without me telling you to come in
Tina:(laughs) pardon me, but u need to eat your food
Davin: are you stupid? will you take this food away before I pour my anger on you
Tina: sorry but I can't (left)
Davin:damn it! this girl get guts.she dares to disobey me but isn't she cute?omg I must get this girl and make her pay for disobeying me
Davin treats everyone in the company so bad, his presence terrifies everyone and he talks to everyone anyhow he likes
Ryan:davin this is getting out of hand,I don't like the way you treat everyone in this company, it's not fair
Davin: will you shut up! what do you even know
Ryan:I don't blame you, don't forget I'm your senior brother
Davin: senior brother my foot
Ryan: you are acting this way and expect this company to be handed over to you
Davin: this company will be mine soon believe it or leave it
Ryan:we shall see about that
Davin: it's either I kill you or you kill me (left and banged his office door)
Tina was washing the plates in the kitchen and Ryan came in
Ryan:hey beauty,how are you doing
Tina: I'm fine sir
Ryan: after washing the plates get some coffee in my room
Tina: okay sir
Ryan: I'm waiting (left the kitchen)
Minutes later Tina came in with the coffee
Tina:sir here's the coffee
Ryan: thanks, please sit we need to talk
Tina: I'm just an ordinary maid.i shouldn't sit in your room
Ryan: just sit
Tina:(sat down) what do you want to talk to me about
Ryan:I think I like you
Tina:(laughs) you are not serious,a whole rich guy like you that have seen many pretty rich girls will never like an ordinary maid like me
Ryan: I'm serious
Tina: I'm off (left)
NB:to be continue

18:05,- The clock strikes as I had just returned from a three miles walk to the outskirt of the
town. I trudge to the miserable inn I had procured for the last three days. You could tell that I
am tired from the weary look on my face that I wish I could have someone that would do
things for me at that very moment.
I laid my back on the hard bed with a squeaking sound emanating from the wood and lumpy
with sheets that are stained. My eyes surveyed the small room filled with dust, cobwebs in
the corners, and a musty smell in the air. The rooms here are not properly tidied after being
used. The window is small and old, and it seems like it is almost detached from the walls.
There is a small fan hanging from the ceiling and a small lightbulb covered with dust casting
a yellow sickly light.
I began to count the ceilings minutes passed after taking a long gaze at a wall gecko who
attached his claws to the wall facing me. My mind flashed back to the misty and cold
morning. I had earlier taken it upon myself to look out for an apartment on the outskirts of
Grandville. I hurriedly took my bath in a small bathroom littered with a lot of sponges and
sachets of soaps locked at the end of the spot where water flush out to the dug spot at the
back of the inn.
Having dressed for my adventure, I passed by a young girl in the passage putting out
candles that were light the previous night. She gave me a lustful smile as I walked down the
path, but I wasn't in for that. I could still feel a slight headache on the right side of my
forehead, it seems like I had received a punch from a pro boxer. Oh! Well, I took a lot of
shots of beer the night before and I could not remember how I managed to find my way back
to the room.
A light-skinned chauffeur was standing right behind his car. He looks so calm and one would
detect that he is a responsible man from his mode of dressing. He is tall and well dressed,
with a neat appearance. I waved at him- his car looks so neat that I would say it attracted me
and which prompted me to choose him among all, - and I moved closer to him. He wore a
warm smile on his face and this signals a sense of duty and responsibility.
'Taxi? ' I said.
'Yes, it is. ' it was the answer.
'I had just moved to this town and I have done myself the honor of lodging in an inn. I
intended to stay for a week or more before, but I am not comfortable with the atmosphere.
Do you know of any available apartments up for rent? ' I asked with a submissive voice.
'Grandville is my town, sir, ' he paused and took a glance at my face with a smile to ease me.
' I have been to almost all parts of the town, it would be my pleasure to drive you anywhere. '
His response was everything I could wish for at that very moment. It felt like a heart-warm message brought by an angel.
He slowly opened the door and gestured that I should get in. He rolled down the windows
and at the same time reach to lock the doors. He inquired whether I would love to listen to
some country songs.
'Sure, ' I replied, and deep down within me, I rarely listen to country songs. I could not have
objected because of his calm manner of approaching me.
I sat in the back seat watching the world go by as the car moves down the road. I saw people
talking on their phones and women offering their wares at the pedestrian for sale. Cars and
bikes move along the road, honking their horns and whizzing past. I could feel the gentle
vibrations of the car as it roll along. I had a feeling of calmness and I was lost between sleep
and being awake.
The car severed into a pothole and I came out of my subconsciousness. We have been on
the road for the last fifteen minutes and probably I have lost track of time.
We are now on the outskirts of the town. The sky is clear here and filled with fluffy white
clouds. The trees along the sloppy road are lofty and green, and the scent of fresh grass
with heavy dew filled the air. The sound of the car engine mixed with the country song to
create a soothing symphony. The chauffeur took a turn and the car swayed gently as it went
through the bend. I have never felt so relaxed like this in months.

To be continued...

I woke up to the sound of a sudden lightning strike, followed by a deafening thud coming from behind our house. I rushed outside, and there it was: a massive tree had fallen, its trunk hollowed out by honey bees that had made their home there for months. We had been anticipating the tree's fall, but we never expected it to be brought down by lightning.

The next morning, I walked outside to find my brother standing near the fallen tree, a jar of honey in his hands. He was dressed in a mishmash of clothes, looking almost like a colorful masquerade. I couldn't help but wonder about his strange appearance. Ignoring my mom's warnings, I dashed toward the fallen tree, only to be met with a searing pain as a bee stung me right on the nose. It was a shock unlike anything I'd ever felt before. My nose felt like it was swelling and pulsating, and tears welled up in my eyes as I sprinted back to the house and collapsed on the ground. My mom rushed over, soothing the sting with palm oil as I silently sobbed.

As I lay there, nursing my throbbing nose, I realized that this was my first bee sting, an unforgettable lesson learned.