Mindviewers Stories

It was time for us to take our marriage vows.
As I stood there, I couldn’t contain my excitement. My heart
swelled with joy knowing I had finally found a wife, not just
any wife, but a virgin wife. My smile was so wide and genuine
that it caught everyone's attention, including my bride’s.
I was beaming, filled with a happiness I couldn't describe.
Just before the ceremony started, I walked over to her and
gave her a warm hug. I even leaned in to kiss her but stopped
myself, remembering it wasn’t time yet.
The congregation watched in surprise, unable to understand
the depth of my happiness. I couldn't wait any longer and
pleaded with the pastor to proceed so I could kiss my wife for
the first time.
The pastor smiled at me, then faced the congregation.
"If anyone here has any reason why these two should not be
joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your
peace." He repeated the question for the last time.
My patience was wearing thin. "Who on earth would object to
my marriage to my virgin wife?"
As I was mulling this over, I was interrupted by a commotion
in the congregation. Turning to look, I saw a young, beautiful
lady standing with a little boy on her back.
My heart sank as I noticed my bride cutting her eyes and
making frantic signs at the woman to sit down.
“What’s going on here? Can someone explain this to me?” I
demanded, my voice trembling.
The pastor tried to calm me. "Please, Mr. Henry, calm down."
The church was in shock. This was unprecedented. The pastor
addressed the young woman, "Yes, young lady, what do you
have to say?"
"I'm very sorry for what I'm about to reveal," she began, her
voice shaky. "Mr. Henry, please find it in your heart to forgive
me. I might ruin your wedding, but the truth must be told."
She continued, tears streaming down her face.
"Amaka, the bride, has been my childhood friend. I know
everything about her. The child you see on my back is her
third child." Gasps echoed through the church as the pastor
tried to calm everyone.
I was in disbelief. Rushing to my bride, I pleaded, "Baby, tell
me she's lying." But her face gave her away. There was no
denial, just a look of shame.
The pastor urged the woman to continue. "Many of you might
think I'm jealous, but this is the truth, and nothing but the
truth. May I never see the light of tomorrow if I'm lying," she
swore.
"She abandoned me with this child five months after he was
born and disappeared. It’s been over a year, and she hasn’t
once asked about him or called to check on his welfare.
I lost my job because of her, I was humiliated because of this
child, and yet she never bothered."
She paused, "But I’m not alone. I came with an old friend."
She motioned to a man in the crowd. "Mr. Johnson, can you
please stand up?"
When Mr. Johnson stood, I turned to my bride in shock. "Is
this the same Mr. Johnson who has been calling you every
night? The one you said was your brother in China?" She
didn’t respond, just hung her head in shame.
Mr. Johnson spoke, his voice calm but firm. "What she said is
true. Amaka was my girlfriend. She left when I discovered she
was carrying another man's child. She made me believe she
had an abortion and was out of town, but unknowingly she
was arranging to marry someone else."
"My name is Mr. Johnson, popularly known as Papa Ejima. Yes,
Amaka was my girlfriend, and she gave me these beautiful
twins you see sitting beside me."
The congregation erupted. People began leaving in shame and
disbelief.
My mind was a whirlwind. My head ached, my eyes burned,
and my legs felt like lead. Turning to my bride, I begged,
"Babe, tell me it’s not true. Tell me he’s lying."
For the first time, Amaka spoke, her voice barely a whisper.
"I’m so sorry, my husband. Please find it in your heart to
forgive me."
My world shattered.
"Oh, so it is the truth," I said, my voice hollow.
She nodded, confirming my worst fears.
"Oh, my virgin wife," I cried out before everything went black,
and I fainted.
The last thing I heard was the collective gasp of the
congregation and the pastor’s voice calling for help as
darkness engulfed me.

I remember the day we had an old school dressing day in my faculty like it was yesterday. The whole idea had been brewing for a while, and as one of the student organizers, I was thrilled to see it finally coming to life. It was a chance for us to step back in time and embrace the fashion and styles of previous decades, and I couldn't wait to see how everyone would interpret the theme.

In the days leading up to the event, excitement buzzed through the campus. The air was filled with whispers and plans as students scoured closets and thrift stores in search of the perfect vintage outfits. As for me, I found myself diving into my parents' old photo albums, seeking inspiration from their youthful fashion choices.

When the big day arrived, the atmosphere crackled with anticipation. As I made my way to the faculty building, I was greeted by a riot of color and an eclectic mix of fashion that spanned the ages. The campus seemed to be a kaleidoscope of different eras - there were poodle skirts and leather jackets from the 50s, bell-bottoms and tie-dye from the 70s, and neon tracksuits from the 80s, to name just a few.

I had decided to embrace the jazz age of the 1920s, and I felt like I had stepped out of a time machine. In a sleek, fringed flapper dress and a feathered headband, I felt like a character from The Great Gatsby, transported into the 21st century. As I strolled through the crowds, I couldn't help but smile at the effort and creativity that had gone into everyone's outfits.

The old school dressing day was more than just a chance to play dress-up; it was an opportunity for us to connect with the past, to appreciate the timeless appeal of vintage fashion, and to celebrate the rich tapestry of styles that had come before us. It was a day filled with laughter, nostalgia, and a sense of camaraderie as we marveled at each other's outfits and shared stories of the bygone eras we were channeling.

As the day drew to a close, I felt a sense of gratitude for the experience. It had been a reminder that fashion has the power to transcend time, and that by looking back, we can find inspiration for the future. The old school dressing day had brought the campus together in a playful, unique way, and it was a day that would be fondly remembered for years to come.

"Okafor, bring your chair closer let us gist na" said my grandpa in a shaking voice. As I drew my chair closer to him, we began to plunder on what discuss about after having our dinner of some delicious Eba and eguisi soup which my mum had prepared, I was already heading to bed before my grandpa saw me and sort for companionship.

For as long as I could remember, my grandpa had virtually told me all the ancient stories which I could think of. "What kind of conversation does this man want to have with me again at this time of the night" as I said to my self. But I noticed the tears dropping out seamlessly out of my grandpa's eyes, startle by this I knelt close to him as I enquire,"grandpa what is the matter, did I do something wrong?" No my son " said grandpa, I become very sad whenever I think of your late father, at that point my mind travelled pass a thousand seas and I too had a teary eyes.

It is exactly twenty (20) years ago since his son (my dad) past away. When I was exactly three years old and my sister had just been born. Obviously I didn't get to meet my dad as every normal kid had. I had very faded memories of him which he was brutally alienated.

As the story was told to us by our mother. My dad and mum had just gotten married, my dad having a stable job and my mum having a menial trade business which she managed. After one year, he lost his job and was jobless for about six months with no source of income and feeding was expenses was automatically dependant on my mother's business which wasn't doing so well because she had just had her first child (me), apparently everything was upside down for the family, all my dad did was to submit applications all day long. Also as it was told to us at some point in time my dad went into menial Bricklaying jobs after being a certified accountant.

This continued for more than two years until one day which he got himself into something which would determine his sad end. While my dad engaged in his Bricklaying activities some group of people came to their site and said they needed few men who could help them undertake a certain tasks that required strong and hefty man which my dad some one of the volunteer, they schedule a time for meeting them which my dad attended.

It was at that point that they realized that there were gold smugglers who smuggle gold across countries, realizing this many opted out as they wanted no part in such illegal activities which could bring problems for them but my dad didn't.

He came and told his wife about the job which bluntly refused and disagreed which she encouraged him to continue with the menial Bricklaying and with her business they would be able to manage for a while expecting a change.

But my dad refused, " just look at the way we are living from hand to mouth, is it suppose to be so, our first son is just two years and six months old and you are already pregnant what legacy am I expected to leave for if not money , I need money, woman I said , I need money, at least let me just a bite out of the country's national cake. At the least the bible said the silver is mine, the gold is mine sayest the Lord" said my father as he supports his claim to undertake the gold smuggling job due to the numerous benefits as he left the out and mum crying out for him to stop.

They ran the operation, mine the gold and began the smuggling which my dad was at the forefront. All activities were undertaken in Enugu state successfully but when my dad was to return to Asaba , Delta state where he resides having collected his own cut of the operation he was apprehended by military operatives in the state who were bribed by his own employers who would met him to join the operation so as to seek his elimination due to the fact that they suspected that he might pose a threat to them and might leak the operations if caught.

After being apprehended and taken to the prison where in two days time he was reported poisoned. Which made the entire family grief for years as a result of the wrong legacy which he sort to leave behind.

With my face placed on my grandpa's leg, still with a teary eyes, my grandpa said any legacy whether materially or emotionally, spiritually, physical which is built illegitimate or mundane things leads to ultimate destruction and a bad name, and with such lessons I have been able to establish a legacy built on good name and legitimately gotten wealth and also commitment to any other thing rather than anything else.

The End...

I still remember my first time in Port Harcourt like it was yesterday. I had just arrived from Lagos, eager to explore the city and start my new job. As I stepped out of the airport, the warm sun hit me, and the humid air enveloped me. I was struck by the lush greenery and the vibrant sounds of the city.

My colleague, Chijioke, was waiting for me at the airport, and we set off towards the city. As we drove, he pointed out landmarks and shared stories about the city's history and culture. I was fascinated by the mix of old and new buildings, the bustling markets, and the friendly people.

We stopped at a local restaurant for lunch, and I was introduced to the famous Port Harcourt dish, pepper soup with catfish. The flavors exploded in my mouth, and I was hooked. Chijioke laughed at my reaction, "Welcome to Port Harcourt, my friend! You're in for a treat!"

As we continued our journey, I noticed the city's unique blend of traditional and modern architecture. We passed by the beautiful Rivers State Government House, the bustling Ariaria Market, and the scenic waterfront.

Eventually, we arrived at my new apartment, a cozy place in a quiet neighborhood. Chijioke helped me settle in and introduced me to some of my new neighbors. They welcomed me with warm smiles and open arms.

That evening, we explored the city's nightlife, enjoying the music and laughter at a local bar. I felt like I had finally arrived in Port Harcourt, and the city had already stolen my heart.

From that day on, Port Harcourt became my home, and I embraced its vibrant energy, rich culture, and warm people. My first time in Port Harcourt was a memorable experience that set the tone for an incredible journey in the city.

"Come out Mr. Man", " Come out nor", says Oga Landlord as he continuously bangs the home of his tenant, Mr. Oja. "Good morning sir" said Mr. Oja to the Landlord. "Keep your good morning to yourself" said the Landlord as he replies back to Mr. Oja.

Oja being a young man as just started to get on his own two feet. Having no one to look after him since the age of three when his both parents were allegedly said to be con artist who presented themselves as pastors in the community which they resided unfortunately that incident lead in the burning of the couples to death leaving their only son, Oja who's three years old to suffer, fortunately the missionary church where Oja's parents served under took him into their orphanage where he stayed for about 23 years.

Oja who just got out of the orphanage having so much dreams and aspirations decided to rent a self contain of 120,000 naira so as to begin a new life. Oja's rent had just expired and it is time to renew his second year rent.

Just last week, Oja not having enough funds for the rent decided to plead to the Landlord just having about 50,000 naira which he promised to balance by the end of the month which the Landlord seamlessly agreed which made Oja confident and he was in comfort. Little did he know that the Landlord had an evil motive after he noticed that Oja was vulnerable and had little experience about world happenings.

As of the next week which Oja was to transfer the money to the Landlord, he called him and good him about the situation at hand, after the Landlord agree him wanted to transfer the money to the Landlord's account which he abruptly refused asking that the money be presented to him in cash.

Oja had to located the Landlord's house with the 50,000 naira in cash which he gave to the Landlord who refused to present him with any receipt or any evidence of payment. Only for the Landlord to come back a week later with a heavily armed police officer who apparently was his eldest son to demand the 120,000 naira of Mr. Oja who at that point was speechless not having any witness or any prove of payment of 50,000 naira which he paid.

Oja tried as much as he can to explain how the how event took place and how he managed to locate the Landlord's house which he had never gone to before. But the Landlord's son (police officer) said to him "you go explain tire no evidence". Apparently he was his father's accomplice in the whole thing.

It felt like the whole world had begin to collapse for Oja that, in which the Landlord had caused a commotion in the entire axis where Oja resides to the point that instead of him defending his right was forced to that begging and agreed to pay the entire sum of 120,000 naira by the end of the month thinking that every thing will slide but to his greatest surprise the Landlord insisted that the money be given to him that very moment or else he should evict the the house.

One thing lead to another and Oja was charged to court without any form of evidence he was forced to evict in seven (7) days which rightfully should be three months due to the fact that the Landlord had already that same house to another person for the sum of 240,000 naira and the person who was absent for a while was to return in eight days time to occupy the house.

Poor Mr. Oja was ridicule and without any form of apology was forced to go back to that same orphanage seeing that he had no money for anywhere to start from. He went back in shame with the hope of making a little money from his piping and fittings jobs with which he could start from scratch again.

The End...

My sister was moving to a new house and she called me to come help her pack.
The compound she was living in was notorious for the number of thieves there, from the pot mistakenly left outside to clothes hung out to dry, they can steal anything and she was fed up.

So I went there and we packed up everything into the moving van and left for the new house, few streets away.
I was helping her arrange the things when I decided to check the time because I didn't want to be late for an appointment I had, I checked my bag for my phone but it was nowhere to be found.
I tried calling the phone but I remembered that It was off while I was charging it that morning and I did not turn it on before I left my house.
I quickly took my sister's phone and called the van driver thinking I left it in his van but he said he didn't see any phone.

I was dejected, this period wey person never see food chop, where I wan see money buy phone?
I took a bike to the former compound to check if I dropped it there, my brothers and sisters, even the few odds and ends my sister left behind because she wouldn't need them have all been carted away.
I returned back to the new house because I did not even have the strength to attend the appointment again, body just weak me.

About an hour later, there was a knock on the door.
It was a guy from my sister's former compound with my phone in his hand.
He said he saw it on the ground and his friend picked it up and ran away, he had to chase his friend all the way to a phone market where he(the friend) wanted to sell the phone.
He collected the phone and went back home, asked around and luckily a neighbour knew my sister's new address and he brought the phone.
May God bless him.

SECRETS IN THE STAFF ROOM (New high school story series)

EPISODE ONE

Students stood stark naked with leather straps, standing in the hostel bathroom which had damp tiles and dim, flickering lights. The bathroom was full of activities, with the sounds of rushing water and laughter. Students, wrapped in mismatched towels, moving between rusty showerheads and chipped sinks. The air smelling like soap with a hint of mildew.

One could see some students clutching buckets, others darting around in towels or undies, all laughing and giggling as they bathed and chatted like it was a wild, wet costume party..

The noise was so loud because this was the only time students could gossip about what happened in their classes
"Why will she say that to me?" a voice echoed, and everyone fell silent, eager to listen. "Is it not true?" another voice replied, followed by splashes of water, making it sound like a dramatic soap opera in the bathroom.
"Jesus Christ! How dare you pour water on me?" yelled the shorter girl, rushing to slap the culprit. The other girl retaliated by yanking off her towel and tossing it into the dirty water, turning the bathroom into a hilarious chaos.

Boom! The two girls fought as one pinned the other to the ground, punching her, while the girl on the floor kicked her legs in the air, struggling to get free.
Suddenly, students ran towards the scene to see what was happening.and the other students cheered them on, "Fauziyah! Remi!".
"Hey! Hey!" Lila's voice rang out, and everyone giggled nervously, scattering in fear of her voice.

Lila, a stunner with her dark skin shining, standing at an average height, her broad hips and well-rounded buttocks added to her captivating look. Not just for her looks or for her truly mesmerising eyes which was deep and mysterious, resembling the piercing gaze of an owl, casting a spell of enchantment on all who dared to meet them, but what really stood out is how smart she was. Everyone respected her for her beauty and brains.

"Senior Lila is here!" students shouted, running around. "What happened? Why are you two fighting?" she yelled, her owl-like eyes bulging fiercely as the two fighting girls quickly stood up.
"You don't want to talk?" she asked angrily, but they remained silent. "It's alright, both of you, follow me," she said, turning around. As other students cleared a path for her, the fighters pointed fingers at each other and hurriedly cleaned themselves up, looking like guilty puppies caught in the act.
"Don't you dare waste my time! Follow me to my hostel room right away," Lila fired at them.
"Senior, let me get a towel first, please," the short girl begged.
"You're both going to walk bare naked to my hostel. I don't care," she replied sternly, as other students jumped and laughed at the girls' predicament.
Arriving at Lila's hostel, she sat under a tree on a long bench where other girls were lounging. It was obvious they were seniors from their relaxed demeanor and casual questioning of Lila about the fight. "So you guys are fighting, right?" they asked, making the whole scene feel like a mother to child interrogation.

"Senior, she started it," Remi protested, but before she could elaborate, Lila swiftly shut her down with a glare and a hiss, leaving Remi to regret ever mentioning it.

"What exactly is making the two of you fight?" Ava inquired,
"Senior, I came into the toilet to bathe so I could meet my bedtime, but I walked past Remi who was in there with her friends, giggling away louder than a flock of geese at a comedy show" Fauziyah explained,
"I knew they were laughing at me but still didn't bother confronting them," Fauziyah admitted, exhaling deeply before resuming her narrative.
"As soon as I removed my towel and hung it on the rope, they all erupted with laughter like I had some poop on my body. I just ignored them and carried on with what I was doing," she recounted, shaking her head at the memory.
" The next thing Remi said was, "I have a lion shape, my breasts are so big, soon I'll need two companies to sew my bra size," Fauziyah continued, only to be interrupted by the senior students bursting into laughter, as if they'd just heard the punchline to a ridiculous joke."Stand up, let me confirm if it's true," one of the senior students ordered Fauziyah, who pleaded with her eyes, hoping to avoid what sounded like an embarrassing investigation.

"If I slap you, you'll stand up," A senior student ordered, as Fauziyah reluctantly obeyed,instinctively clutched her breasts in a protective gesture, feeling embarrassed.

"My friend, remove your hands and give me a 360-degree round. If it's these small small boys, you'll have them queuing up to press them," she ordered Fauziyah, who reluctantly complied, feeling like she was auditioning for a modelling gig.
They all chuckled and urged her to continue her tale.

"I confronted Remi, and she just hissed and dared me to prove her wrong," Fauziyah explained, trailing off into silence, leaving the senior students hanging on the edge of their seats, eager for the next chapter of the drama.
"And what did you do?" Lila inquired, leaning in for the juicy details.
"I poured water on her, and then the brawl began," Fauziyah confessed.
"Remi, is that true?" Lila pressed, but Remi remained tight-lipped, avoiding eye contact.
"I'm talking to you!" Lila exclaimed, her voice echoing with a mix of frustration and amusement.
"Yes, senior." Remi stuttered.
"Look at you, all petite and short, yet causing chaos wherever you go. One might think you're innocent, but nope, drama always finds you. Do you ever get tired of it, Remi?" Lila remarked, eyeing her with a mix of amusement and exasperation.
"And you," Lila said, redirecting her attention to Fauziyah. "You shouldn't have poured dirty water on her. You could've ignored her or reported it to a senior, but no, you had to take matters into your own hands. So, now I'm going to handle it my way," she declared, eyeing both of them with a stern gaze.

"For getting into a scuffle, the two of you are now on bed-making duty for me and Ava every morning for the next week, laundering our school uniforms, fetching water, and repairing our shower. I don't want to have to remind you of this again, got it?" Lila declared, laying down the law with a touch of sarcasm, making it clear she meant business.
"That's not all; you'll also be buying snacks for Ava and me for the next week," Lila added with a mischievous grin.
"Senior, I don't have that kind of money. My funds are with Mr. Godson; my parents entrusted it to him," Remi lamented, hoping to avoid another financial burden.
"Does it look like we care?" Ava quipped, unfazed by Remi's financial woes.
"Let me find my snacks, and if I don't, you'll witness a whole new level of my wrath," she warned, shooing them away with a flick of her hand, "will get out of my sight."
Remi and Fauziyah complied and walked away in shame.
"Girl, you didn't do well. We're all involved, but it seems like you and Ava are the only ones benefiting. What about us? We should all share those snacks," Maryann complained, prompting Lila to turn around and stare at her,
"Don't go hunting for your prey; sit down under the tree and enjoy the fresh air while I hustle for snacks for you," she hissed, turning to Ava with a smirk,
"Abeg, Ava, let's work on our assignment. I'm struggling with that topic," she said, standing up as she pulled off her short gown that had gotten stuck between her buttocks, she stamped her feet on the ground and walked away, shaking her buttocks like a pap in a bowl, leaving her friends both amused and bewildered by the unexpected display.

To be continued...

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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 had never seen a peafowl, except in pictures and on screen. I had always admired the striking beauty of these creatures and longed to witness them up close. My chance came when I visited my uncle in Benue.

Benue was filled with sprawling forests and pathways, where people hunted a variety of wild animals, displaying their catches at the local markets. During my travels, I saw an array of wildlife, from crocodiles to antelopes, cheetahs, and pheasants. Each one was a new and fascinating sight.

But then, as we meandered through the dense woodland, I caught a glimpse of something truly spectacular. In the distance, I spotted what I believed to be a peafowl. I couldn't contain my excitement as I pressed closer to the vehicle's window. And sure enough, there it was, a peafowl, proudly displaying its vibrant and iridescent plumage. It was a breathtaking sight.

The peafowl's feathers glistened in the dappled sunlight, creating a mesmerizing display of colors – a sight that I had only ever seen in pictures. I was eager to capture the moment and ensure I had a keepsake of this rare encounter. But as I reached for my phone, I hesitated, realizing it could easily be snatched from me in this unfamiliar place.

Reluctantly, I put my phone away, choosing to imprint the scene in my memory instead. As we slowly moved away, I stole one last glance at the stunning peafowl, feeling a sense of peace and contentment at having witnessed such a magnificent creature in its natural habitat.

Although I couldn't capture the moment on camera, the memory of that enchanting sight stayed with me long after I left Benue. It served as a reminder of the extraordinary beauty waiting to be discovered in the world around us. Seeing the peafowl was an experience I would always cherish, and it inspired me to seek out more moments of untainted wonder and joy, wherever my adventures may take me.

On a rainy day in the small town of Willow Creek, the sky was a blanket of gray, and raindrops danced rhythmically on the rooftops. Emma, a young artist, sat by her window, watching the world blur through streaks of rain. Her small studio apartment was filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the soft glow of her desk lamp.

Emma loved rainy days. They brought a sense of calm and inspiration. She pulled out her sketchbook and began to draw, letting the patter of rain guide her pencil strokes. Her mind wandered to the story she was creating—a tale of a mysterious traveler who brought rain to a drought-stricken village, reviving its once vibrant landscape.

As the hours passed, the rain intensified, and the streets outside turned into shallow rivers. Emma decided to take a break and venture out. She grabbed her umbrella and stepped into the cool, damp air. The town felt different under the rain, quieter and more introspective. People hurried by, seeking shelter, while children splashed gleefully in puddles.

She walked to the local café, a cozy nook known for its warm ambiance and friendly owner, Mr. Thompson. The bell above the door jingled as she entered, and Mr. Thompson greeted her with a smile. “Ah, Emma! Perfect day for a hot chocolate, don’t you think?”

Emma nodded, shedding her wet umbrella and finding a seat by the window. She sipped her hot chocolate, savoring the rich, creamy warmth. The café was a haven of chatter and laughter, a stark contrast to the somber weather outside. She pulled out her sketchbook again, capturing the scene around her—the couple sharing an umbrella, the barista’s focused expression, and the fogged-up windows.

As the day drew to a close, the rain began to taper off. Emma walked home, feeling a sense of fulfillment. She had embraced the quiet beauty of the rainy day, finding inspiration in its simplicity and the small moments that filled it. Back in her apartment, she looked at her sketches and smiled. The rainy day had painted its own picture in her mind, a mosaic of serenity and creativity, waiting to be woven into her next story.

I had no electricity at home for 24 hours. I needed to charge my phone, so I packed my power bank and laptop and went out to find a place to charge them.

Many people were in the same situation as me, and they all had the same idea. The streets were filled with people searching for a place to charge their devices. The nationwide strike had caused everyone to leave their homes and search for a solution.

I finally found a place that had electricity, but it was very crowded. I couldn't even move, there were so many people! Everyone was waiting patiently for their turn to charge their phones and laptops.

I waited for over an hour, but I couldn't get close to a charging point. I was starting to lose hope. But then, I saw a small space become available. I quickly grabbed my power bank and managed to charge it by 30%.

I was happy to have at least some charge in my power bank, so I decided to head back home. The crowd was still huge, but I was relieved to have made some progress.
I realized how much we rely on electricity. It was a challenging day, but I was grateful to have been able to charge my power bank a little bit.

I finally got back home, ready to face another day without electricity. I am hoping that this strike would end soon and our lives could return to normal.

I had heard so much about Lagos, the hustle and bustle, the energy, the excitement. But I had never been there before. So, when my nephew announced his wedding would be held in Lagos, I knew it was the perfect opportunity to experience the city for myself. I convinced my family to come along, and we began to prepare for our trip.

Immediately we boarded the plane, my excitement grew. I couldn't wait to see my nephew, who had grown into a fine young man. I couldn't wait to meet his bride, who I had heard was a beautiful and kind-hearted woman. And I couldn't wait to experience all that Lagos had to offer.

When we arrived in Lagos, the heat hit us like a slap in the face. But we were determined to make the most of our trip. We checked into our hotel, freshened up, and went out to explore the city. The first thing that struck me was the traffic! Cars honking, people shouting, it was a loud place! But we laughed and joked, taking it all as part of the fun.

The next day was the wedding, and it was a beautiful ceremony. My nephew and his bride were beaming with joy, and we were all so happy to see them so happy. The food, the music, the dancing - it was all so wonderful. I even tried some Lagos-style jollof rice, which was delicious!

After the wedding, we spent a few more days exploring the city. We visited the National Museum, the Lekki Conservation Centre, and even took a trip to the famous Bar Beach. It was exhausting, but exhilarating. We laughed, we argued, we made memories that would last a lifetime.

I didn't want our trip to end but we had to go back home.
We boarded the plane fully sponsored by my nephew to return home, I turned to my family and said, "That was the trip of a lifetime!" They all nodded in agreement, excitement all over their faces.

As the wind whispered through the streets of Willow Creek, a lone leaf clung to its branch, refusing to let go. It was the last leaf of autumn, and it knew its time was short.

Below, a young girl named Lily gazed up at the leaf, her eyes filled with wonder. She had been watching it for days, marveling at its determination to stay attached.

One day, a strong gust swept through the town, and the leaf was torn from its branch. It twirled and danced in the air, finally coming to rest on Lily's outstretched palm.

As she held it, she felt a strange sense of hope and renewal. The leaf, though fragile and alone, had held on to its branch with all its might. And in the end, it had found a new home, a new purpose.

Lily smiled, knowing that she, too, could find strength in her own struggles. She tucked the leaf into her pocket, a reminder of the resilience of the human spirit.

From that day forward, Lily faced her challenges with a newfound courage, and the last leaf of autumn remained with her, a symbol of the beauty and wonder that could be found in even the most fleeting moments.

As she pushed open the creaky door, a warm golden light spilled out onto the rainy streets. Emily had stumbled upon the mysterious library while exploring the old part of town. The sign above the entrance read "Libraria Antiqua" in elegant script.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of old books and knowledge. Towering shelves stretched towards the ceiling, packed with volumes bound in leather and adorned with strange symbols. A soft whisper seemed to echo through the halls, as if the books were sharing secrets among themselves.

Emily wandered deeper, running her fingers over the spines of the books. One title caught her eye: "The Whispering Tales of the Ancients". As she opened the cover, the whispering grew louder, and she felt a sudden chill.

Suddenly, the lights flickered, and the whispering ceased. A figure emerged from the shadows - an old man with piercing green eyes and a kind smile.

"Welcome, young one," he said, his voice low and soothing. "I have been waiting for you. You have stumbled upon a place where stories come alive. What tale would you like to hear?"

Emily's heart raced as she considered the endless possibilities. "Tell me a story of adventure and magic," she said finally.

The old man nodded, and with a wave of his hand, the room began to transform. The shelves disappeared, replaced by a rolling landscape of hills and forests. Emily felt herself being drawn into the story, becoming the heroine of a tale she had never imagined.

As the sun set outside, Emily reluctantly returned to the real world, her mind buzzing with wonder. She knew she would return to Libraria Antiqua, for the stories and secrets it held were endless.

Returning to school isnt something someone could say he/she is so happy returning, nothing about its stressful schedules was appealing. But all the same, meeting back with friends, the fun and the jokes was comforting.
So, we decided to ditch the day and hang out. As we walked to our department, we decided to take a break at a nearby shop to grab some sachet water.

We asked for four sachets and received them. But the unexpected happened when one of us handed a hundred naira note to the seller, who reluctantly took it and then asked for an extra hundred naira, claiming that each sachet cost fifty naira.

We were utterly speechless and puzzled. "A sachet of water now costs fifty naira?" I asked to confirm what I had heard.

Somewhat reluctantly, we handed over the extra hundred naira and left, feeling slightly cheated. The price of water had left us genuinely astonished and deflated at the same time.

At this point, water is not a life saver anymore, buying sachet water now could cause you a post traumatic stress 😂

Last summer, I decided to take a break from the bustling city life and visit my grandparents' village. As soon as I stepped off the bus, the serene landscape and the fresh air greeted me. The village, nestled between rolling hills and lush green fields, was a stark contrast to the concrete jungle I was used to.

My grandparents' house stood at the edge of the village, surrounded by an orchard of mango trees. The house, though old, had a rustic charm with its thatched roof and mud walls. My grandmother, with her warm smile, welcomed me with a big hug and a plate of homemade delicacies.

Every morning, I woke up to the sound of roosters crowing and birds chirping. The village followed a rhythm dictated by nature. People rose with the sun and their day revolved around farming and household chores. I accompanied my grandfather to the fields, where he patiently taught me about the different crops and how they were grown. The hard work and dedication of the villagers were evident in the lush, healthy crops that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Afternoons were spent under the shade of the big mango tree at the village center, where the elders gathered to share stories and news. I enjoyed listening to their tales of the past, learning about the village's history and traditions. The children played traditional games, their laughter echoing through the narrow lanes.

In the evenings, as the sun set behind the hills, the village transformed into a picturesque scene with the golden hues of dusk. My grandmother and I would sit on the verandah, chatting about life. The simplicity and tranquility of the village life were deeply soothing.

One of the highlights of my trip was the village fair, which was held once a month. Stalls selling handmade crafts, fresh produce, and local delicacies lined the main street. There was music, dance, and a palpable sense of community. I immersed myself in the vibrant culture, participating in folk dances and tasting a variety of traditional dishes.

My week in the village flew by, and it was soon time to return to the city. As I boarded the bus, I felt a twinge of sadness but also a deep sense of contentment. The trip had not only provided a much-needed break but also a profound appreciation for the simple joys of rural life.

I have known Precious for like three years now. She's an epitome of beauty. The in flock of men around her tell more about her captivating beauty. I always say I was lucky to be her boyfriend.
She's everything I ever asked for in a woman..she's loving, kind, respectful and above all a lover of God.
After some years, our friendship took a beautiful twist when we decided to date ourselves. I must say it was the best relationship I ever had. I was intentional about the relationship as we planned settling down after she's done with school and I'm ready too.
Everything was so rosey and beautiful for us until the pressure for marriage dawn's on her.
Her parents started pestering her about settling down. She informed me about it and from that day I knew I was going to loose her.
She's only 22yrs and she's not ready to settle down but because of the pressure from her parents, she had to succumb.
One evening, she called me and said,' babe a guy came to our house to ask for my hand in marriage and they are very serious and I have no choice than to accept '.
It was like my heart stopped beating for a moment. It was a long silence 🤐🤐 on the phone for both of us.
After some days, we broke up and went our separate ways...
She's happily married and we are still in friendly communication though but a part of me still miss her.
😢😢😢😢

I was at a bus stop this evening when I saw a very pretty lady
Men, this babe fine die
See the way men dey Trip for her,
guys see the way I dey look this babe like say she be angel.
Suddenly I heard a sweet voice
"Hey you, what's the time please?"
I hardly believed I was the one she is talking to,
Now all eyes on me.
Proudly I looked at my wristwatch, it was then I realised my wristwatch was no longer working, and it stopped working early that morning…
Chai, see me oo, Heats flows through my spine.
"What's the time please??" She asked again.
I just have to say something
"Mmmm, well, it's just that I forgot to set my wristwatch" wait let me check my phone, and to make the matter worse my phone don off📴 Chei!! Who I offend??
Shey if you see the kind disgusting look this babe gave me ehn, I come weak, I dey speechless
Na so one yeye gal way dey back come whisper to her friend
"Na so dem go dey wear wristwatch wey no dey work up and down dey form dirty big boy" and to Make the matter worst, one fat woman wey dey for front come reply "No mind dem, some go even carry big phone wey no dey work dey do big boy, big boy empty pocket"
See shame, everybody for the bus burst out of laughter and to even make the matter worst, the girl wey ask me time follow dem dey laugh
See as shame catch me oo
To even make the matter worst, conductor wan ask me for money come say "Big boy bring your money" chei!!! Another round of laughter, this one even the driver sef follow laugh 😂😂😂
The funniest part is that the person reading this is also laughing too 😔

SSS1 STUDENT PROPOSE TO HIS ENGLISH TEACHER

It was a very big surprise to the entire school as SSS1 student decided to propose to his attractive English teacher.

During a class assignment, he slipped a love letter in the page of his assignment exercise book.

He had already informed his friends of the act. Everyone was waiting for the reaction of their teacher.

At home, while working on the students' assignments, she saw the letter which she also read.

The next day, at school, she shared the exercises to the students.

The boy got 17/20. But she didn't give him his copy. She simply ordered him to follow her to the teachers' room.

All his friends concluded that it was over for him because the disciplinary council would be waiting for him.

The most surprising thing was that when they arrived at the teachers' room, the teacher......
Chia, my data has finished, to read the full story, please send me money to buy data ooo, .
😛😛

I was on my usual commute home after a long day at work, the bus was packed with people, and the air was heavy with the scent of rain-soaked clothes. I boarded the bus and quickly found a spot to stand, gripping the overhead rail as the vehicle lurched forward.

As the conductor made his way through the crowded aisle, I reached into my pocket for change. To my dismay, I realized I had forgotten to withdraw cash and only had my card. I explained my situation to the conductor, hoping for some leniency, but his expression hardened.

"We don't take cards," he snapped. "You should know that by now."

I tried to reason with him, explaining that it was an honest mistake and that I could pay double the fare tomorrow. But he wasn't having any of it. His voice grew louder, drawing the attention of other passengers. Some of them started muttering, casting judgmental glances my way.

"Pay up or get off at the next stop," he barked.

Frustration bubbled inside me. I felt the eyes of everyone on the bus boring into my back. The conductor's aggressive stance and harsh tone made it clear he wasn't open to negotiation. My pride was hurt, and my patience was wearing thin.

"Look," I said, my own voice rising, "I've been taking this bus for years. You know I'm good for it."

But the conductor stepped closer, invading my personal space. "Rules are rules," he insisted, his breath hot with anger. "You either pay now or get off."

In that moment, I could feel my fists clenching, my heart pounding in my chest. The thought of having to walk the remaining distance home in the rain, combined with the conductor's belligerence, was pushing me to the edge.

Just as I was about to say something I might regret, an older woman sitting nearby spoke up. "I'll cover his fare," she said, holding out a few coins. "There's no need for all this shouting."

Her calm intervention snapped me out of my rage. I took a deep breath and forced myself to relax. The conductor grumbled something under his breath but took the money, moving on to the next passenger.

I thanked the woman profusely, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. The tension in the bus dissipated, and I found a seat, reflecting on how close I had come to losing my temper over something so trivial.

As the bus continued its journey, I realized that while the conductor might have been unnecessarily harsh, escalating the situation wouldn't have helped anyone. Sometimes, it's better to let go of your pride and accept a little help from a kind stranger.

I awoke to the commotion with a start, the sound of screeching tires and slamming doors reverberating through the neighborhood. Jumping out of bed.
It was up the neighbourhood, a team from the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) had swooped in, surrounding a grand three-story building where some individuals had been residing. It was barely past 4 am, and the whole scene was both surreal and unnerving.

Out of the chaos, two figures managed to evade the authorities, each using their own methods of escape. One of them, probably possessed by a fleeting moment of courage, made a dramatic leap over the fence at the back of the compound and dashed into the night. The other, more cunning and resourceful, chose to hide out in the building's ceiling, skillfully covering his tracks. It was a scene straight out of an action movie, and despite the seriousness of the situation, a part of me couldn't help but marvel at their audacity and quick thinking as I listened to people who were present during the live action recounted the incident.

The ensuing chaos saw some of the residents' cars being seized while the male occupants were escorted away and loaded into the awaiting vans. The building, once aglow with the energetic hum of life, now stood as a graveyard after they zoomed off with the victims

I couldn't help but wonder about the individuals who had been taken away and the events that had led to this dramatic and unexpected turn of events. The neighborhood had been forever changed in the blink of an eye, leaving in its wake a palpable sense of unease and uncertainty. As the day unfolded and life began to return to its normal rhythm, the memory of that intense morning lingered, a stark reminder of the fragility and unpredictability of the world we live in.