Mindviewers Stories

It was a regular evening, and I was getting ready for bed. I was just about to tidy up my room when I noticed something strange happening near the door. It was a rat trying to squeeze its way through the little gap at the bottom. I was completely shocked and didn't know what to do at first.

I quickly made some noise and tried to scare it away, but it didn't work. The rat darted into the kitchen, and I knew I had to act fast. I closed off all the openings where it could sneak in and took precautions to make sure it couldn't get back inside.

After a while, I was able to get rid of the rat, but it was really stressful and unexpected. I had never experienced anything like that before. I was really worried that another might come back, so I spent the rest of the evening making sure my house was all sealed up. It was a bit scary, but I felt relieved that I was able to handle the situation on my own.

I know you reading this story might be back there saying, "This girl is this proud for getting rid of a rat", Oh yes I am.

Today my MP3 player started malfunctioning. It was as though it suddenly became louder and then it kept tripping off. I suspected it was the battery causing these issues. In a rush of desperation, I decided to try an unconventional fix. I remembered a spare battery from another MP3 player I had lying around. I decided to attach it to my current one in hopes of restoring its functionality.

To my surprise, after connecting the spare battery, my MP3 player not only started working again but it sounded even better. The only downside was its appearance. The spare battery was attached from the outside, with the wire neatly inserted inside, but people often looked at it and assumed it had been damaged or altered. Regardless of its unconventional look, it continued to work just fine, playing my favorite tunes and keeping me entertained.

Sure, the battery's longevity might not follow the standard, but I'm just happy that it's functioning. I learned to embrace its unique appearance, and most importantly, it's still doing its job. After all, it's all about the music, not just the look.

So instead of wasting transport money and other expenses to go have it fixed, I could use that money for something more important.
My steez still remains 100%.

I remember when my cousin got that big, lovable, furry dog. It was just a little pup when it came into our lives, and I immediately formed a bond with it. We spent countless hours playing, running around, and just enjoying each other's company. As the years went by, that dog became a constant companion, always by my side, eagerly waiting for me to return home from school.

I love the moments we spent together, and I made sure to take it for long walks, exploring the neighborhood and creating memories along the way. I couldn't imagine a day without its warm welcome, wagging tail, and slobbery kisses.

However, as time passed, I noticed changes in the dog's behavior. It started to become more irritable and aggressive, especially towards strangers. It was about 14 years old when it began lashing out, biting two visitors, and even my cousin. Despite my deep connection with the dog, I knew it was a serious issue that needed to be addressed.

My mom warned me to be cautious around the dog, but I couldn't bear the thought of severing the bond we had built. I continued to take it for walks and gave it all the love and attention I could offer. It was a conflicting situation, torn between the strong bond we shared and the increasing danger it posed to others.

Eventually, the situation came to a head, and my cousin made the tough decision to sell the dog. It was a heartbreaking moment for me, saying goodbye to a friend who had been by my side for so many years. The love and memories remained, but it was a necessary step for everyone's safety.

I returned to school after a long break, eager to start a new chapter. Before diving into my studies, I decided to organize my living space. I unpacked my bags, arranged my furniture, and made my bed. My house was spotless, and I felt accomplished.

After a job well done, I took a well-deserved rest. I lay down on my bed, feeling relaxed and ready to recharge for the days ahead. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, the lights flickered back to life. The electricity was back on!

Excited to get back to work, I quickly plugged in my laptop charger. But, to my shock and horror, it blew up instantly! The electricity went out again, leaving me in darkness. I couldn't believe it. What were the chances?

I waited patiently for two hours, hoping the power would return. But, it didn't. I realized I needed a plan B. I decided to venture out to buy a voltage guard and a new charger. Maybe that would solve the problem.

I walked to the nearby store, purchased what I needed, and returned home. But, to my dismay, the electricity was still out. It's been five days now, and I'm starting to lose hope. It seems like PHCN just wanted to destroy my charger!

I'm trying to stay positive and find ways to stay productive without electricity. I'm reading books, taking walks, and enjoying nature. But, I miss my laptop and the convenience it brings.

I'll keep waiting and hoping for the electricity to return. Until then, I'll make the most of this unexpected break. And, next time, I'll be more careful with my charger!

I remember the days when our compound was graced by a beautiful orange tree. It stood tall and proud, bearing fruits that filled the air with a sweet citrusy fragrance. It was a sight to behold, especially when the oranges dangled like bright ornaments against the green foliage.

As the tree matured over the years, it became a magnet for the neighborhood children. Whenever my family and I were at home, we welcomed the cheerful sound of little voices as kids streamed in, asking if they could pluck a few oranges for themselves. It always brought me joy to see their faces light up with excitement as they carefully selected the ripest fruits.

However, our peace with the situation began to change when, on several occasions, we left for work and returned to find that numerous oranges had been taken and our property was in disarray. These same children, left unsupervised, would roam freely in the compound, not only plucking an excessive amount of oranges but also using everything they could get their hands on as playthings. They’d turn our carefully arranged chairs into makeshift forts, brandishing brooms as swords and turning our pots and buckets into parts of their imaginative games.

It was a stark realization for us, as we noticed that the very presence of the tree seemed to give rise to damages and intrusion. It was a bittersweet decision, but after careful consideration, we made the difficult choice to cut down the tree. It was a great disappointment for me because of the joy it brought us, but it became evident that it was necessary to address the increasing issues caused by the unauthorized access to our property and the vandalizing of our belongings.

As the sound of the chainsaw echoed through the air one fateful day, I couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. With each falling branch, it felt as if we were severing a tie to something beautiful. However, deep down, I knew it was for the best. The memories of the orange tree, the laughter of the children, and the scent of its blossoms would always remain in my heart, but sometimes, difficult decisions have to be made for the greater good.

I woke up at 3am to the sound of rain pouring outside. Normally, I would have rolled over and gone back to sleep, but I felt a sudden urge to relieve myself. I got out of bed and headed outside into the darkness, the breeze penetrating me to the bone.

Afterwards, I went back inside and decided to treat myself to a warm cup of hot chocolate. I boiled some water and mixed it with the rich, chocolatey powder, feeling the warmth spread through my body as I took a sip.

Just as I was starting to relax, I heard suspicious footsteps outside. I cautiously approached the window and peeked outside, my eyes scanning the darkness.

That's when I saw him - a stranger lurking around my neighbor's door, trying the handle to see if it was unlocked. My mind raced as I realized he was a thief, trying to take advantage of the rain to break in unnoticed.

Without hesitation, I raised an alarm, shouting loudly to scare him off. The stranger took off running, his footsteps echoing in the night as he fled the scene.

Thanks to my unexpected wakefulness and decision to relieve myself outside, I had foiled the thief's plans and kept my neighborhood safe. A night to be proud and grateful for indeed!

I've never been much of an action movie fan. Give me a good adventure or a heartfelt romance any day, and I'm sold. But last night, something unexpected happened. I was at a friend's place, and he was raving about this foreign action movie he had on his phone. I wasn't that keen, but when he took a break, I snuck a quick peek at the screen. What I saw captured my attention in an instant. The scene unfolding before me was electrifying, and before I knew it, I was drawn in.

After a while, I couldn't resist asking my friend for the name of the movie. "Bee Keeper," he replied. The title sounded intriguing, and I made a mental note to remember it. Later that evening, I downloaded the movie as soon as I got home. It was already quite late, and I should've been heading to bed, but I was determined to watch just a bit before sleep.

As the movie played, I found myself fully engrossed in the action and the storyline. The lead character was captivating, and the adrenaline-pumping sequences kept me glued to the screen. Strangely, the combination of action and a touch of adventure worked its magic on me. I fought against my drooping eyelids, unwilling to pause the movie until I'd seen it through. From the heart-stopping stunts to the unexpected plot twists, "Bee Keeper" held me enthralled.

As the movie concluded, I was left with a buzz of excitement, the kind I hadn't experienced after watching a movie in a long time. It had been an unexpectedly thrilling ride, and my initial reservations about action movies faded away.

In my early years, I didn't have a good relationship with my Dad, he worked as the logistics manager of an Engineering company, so while I was missing out on the love and attention I should get from him, he was overwhelmed by the responsibility of taking care of my siblings and I. The normal "fact" that fathers should be the one to pay the bills and all that.

As I grow older, I started to act out at school, I became unnecessarily clingy to my male friends that some thought I had interest in them. My mum was trying to fill in that gap, she was always there, but I wasn't really bonding with her, I prefer talking to my friends than telling her things that brothered me.
I then noticed that I was becoming distant from my parents, I only speak to them about money related matters and we don't have deep conversations.
Then, we decided to move from Lagos, my Dad resigned and we came to Benin Republic, it was a lot, my dad was now at home, my mum had a shop in front of the house, so we basically had time to talk.
It felt weird to come back home and meet my dad, it was like a new norm that we needed to adapt to, slowly we began to bond and I realized that there was a lot I didn't know about him.
When I got admission and left home, I would always receive messages from him, checking up on me. I won't lie, it took me time to bond with him and we are still bonding

We disagree a lot, even till date, he studied Philosophy (first degree) and Theology (masters), so there are lots of things he does and says that I don't agree with. Infact, there were time I offended him that he threatened to disown me.

I believe there is a testament to the power of an unbreakable bond between a father and a daughter, I am his first daughter and when you meet us talking, it is as if we are siblings, we agree and disagree but we make sure not to break the bond we have tried to build.
The relationship between a father and daughter is a unique and special bond that is built on love, trust, and mutual respect. He really plays a significant role in my life, serving as a protector, and guide. Together, I hope we share a lifelong connection that is filled with laughter, and unforgettable memories.

I am proud to be My Father's Daughter

In one cool evening, I heard a manly scream and frantic footsteps. Curiosity kicked in, I dashed out from my house, keen to discover the cause of the commotion that had disrupted the evening calm.

To my surprise, I found a grown-up teen standing a few meters away from his room, frantically pointing towards the door. As I approached, he began to narrate how he had been peacefully attending to something in his room when, out of nowhere, a snake had chased a lizard right into his personal space. Gripped by fear, he had let out a piercing scream and hastily fled the room, seeking refuge outside.

Though I couldn't help but smile at his jittery reaction, I realized the situation was no laughing matter. I hurriedly called my brother for assistance, understanding that a snake in the house was not something to be taken lightly. As a girl, I had little knowledge of dealing with such creatures, and I knew my brother would be better equipped to handle the situation.

Armed with a sturdy stick, my brother arrived on the scene, ready to confront the unwelcome intruder. Cautiously, he managed to locate the snake, quickly identifying it as a green snake. With a swift and sporadic strike, he skillfully neutralized the reptilian threat, ensuring the safety and peace of mind of our distraught neighbor.

Even as the snake was removed, the neighbour continued to look scared and unsettled. He was afraid of his own room. He dragged his feet to his door steep and peeked in. To what seemed like he heard a sound, he ran.
I couldn't help it then that to rupture with laughter which I had suppressed from the onset.

I had a big task ahead of me the previous Saturday. My relative was getting married in a nearby town, and I was responsible for delivering the foodstuffs for the wedding. I had booked a bus driver to take me and the goods to the town.
The plan was to leave by 7am, but by 7:30am, the driver was nowhere to be found. I was getting worried and angry. I had called him several times, but he wasn't answering his phone.

At 11am, the driver finally showed up. He apologized and blamed the rain for the delay. But I was still angry because it was just light rain, not heavy enough to cause such a delay.
Despite my anger, I decided to pardon him. We loaded the foodstuffs into the bus and set off on our journey. The driver was quiet, probably knowing he had disappointed me.

Throughout the journey, I thought about how important it was to be on time. If the driver had been punctual, we would have arrived early and avoided any stress. After a few hours, we finally arrived in the town. We delivered the foodstuffs, and everything was a success. I was relieved and grateful that we made it despite the delay.

In the end, I learned that sometimes things don't go as planned, but with patience and understanding, we can still achieve our goals. And for the driver, I hope he learned the importance of being on time!

One sunny day, my mom challenged me to break a freshly plucked coconut from our tree.
It wasn't that a big deal to break a coconut, I thought . I placed the round shape on a surface and then I realized that there was more to a coconut.

As a girl, it seemed like an impossible task. I struggled and even resorted to watching YouTube tutorials on breaking coconuts, but to no avail. Finally, in frustration, I grabbed a machete and hacked it open.
No be me go die on top say I wan remove the back, that fibre part.

But the laugh was not over yet. I realized that I now had to extract the edible parts. Coconut might not be an elephant, but I sure felt like I was wrestling with one! After an epic battle, I triumphantly retrieved the precious flesh, feeling like I had conquered a legendary beast.

The coconut was finally vanquished, and I couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Mom's innocent setup had turned into a memorable showdown, and all for a simple coconut. Thank goodness it wasn't an elephant - I might still be there wrestling with it!

I had been looking forward to Saturday all week. I had plans to meet my friends at the park for a picnic and get-together. We had been planning this for weeks, and I was excited to finally relax and have some fun in the sun.

But when I woke up on Saturday morning, my heart sank. The sky was cloudy, and rain was pouring down outside. I tried to stay optimistic, thinking that maybe the rain would clear up by the time we were supposed to meet at the park. But as the morning went on, the rain only got heavier.

I texted my friends to see if we could reschedule for another day, but they were all busy with other plans. I was disappointed, but I thought maybe I could still salvage the day by doing something else I enjoyed. I decided to head to my favorite restaurant, which was indoors and wouldn't be affected by the rain.

But when I got to the restaurant, I found out that it was closed for renovations! I couldn't believe it. I had been looking forward to this day all week, and now everything I had planned was falling apart.

I started to feel really down. I had been so looking forward to a fun day with my friends, and now it was all being ruined by the rain. I decided to just head home and wrap up with a book, hoping that the next day would be sunnier.
It's like the rain has a personal beef with me! But I tried to stay positive, thinking that maybe the rain would bring some new opportunities my way.

And so, there I was, standing at the kitchen sink, diligently washing the dishes while also helping my mother with other kitchen chores. The warm water and soapy suds made a satisfying combination as I scrubbed away the remnants of our family dinner. My mother, busy with her own tasks, suddenly launched into a story that had me laughing so hard I almost dropped a plate.

She began recounting a hilarious incident from a few months ago in our village. It was a time when the in-laws and people from the groom's hometown had come to marry one of our village indigenes. Things took a hilarious turn when it became clear that they hadn't provided the required amount of drinks for the youths. This lack of hospitality provoked the village youths, who took it upon themselves to complain to the in-laws and the groom's people - but they paid no attention and acted stubborn.

In response, the village youths left the marriage ceremony and decided to take matters into their own hands. They made a blockade on the only road leading into the village and, to add to the drama, some of them dressed up in masquerade costumes. Anyone from the groom's people who was spotted by the makeshift guard was swiftly and comically flogged. To add to the amusement, they demanded a fine of 1000 Naira before allowing anyone to leave the village!

I almost threw myself on the floor to laugh to my fill as I imagined the whole scene play out in my head.
It was supposed to be a celebration, I asked my mother, why then did your people make it violent?..

I sit here, reflecting on the past year of my life, I can't help but feel a mix of emotions. It's been a rough ride, full of ups and downs. There were times when I felt completely destabilized, like my mental health was hanging by a thread. But, with the help of loved ones and my own determination, I was able to recover and come out stronger on the other side.

Looking back, I realize how much I've grown and learned. I pushed myself to study hard in school, and it paid off. I'm proud of the person I've become and the knowledge I've gained. But, it wasn't always easy. There were many times when I felt like giving up, like the weight of the world was on my shoulders.

I remember the times I walked alone, feeling lost and uncertain about my future.
There were times when I felt like I was drowning in my own thoughts and emotions. But, through it all, I knew that God was with me, guiding and giving me the strength to keep going.

I'm grateful for the struggles, because they made me stronger and wiser. I'm grateful for the people who stood by me, through thick and thin. And, I'm grateful for the lessons I learned, the growth I experienced, and the person I've become.

As I look forward to this new year of my life, I'm excited to see what the future holds. I know that there will be more adventures, but I'm ready to face them head-on. I'm ready to continue growing and learning. And, I'm ready to see what amazing things God has in store for me.

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.

Three days ago, I found myself in the kitchen, engrossed in trying to fix a kettle of water on the verge of boiling over a fire. It was a rare moment where my attention was glued to my phone, an unusual sight for someone who prided himself on not being overly attached to the device. There was an urgent task that demanded my time and focus, and I couldn't afford to be distracted.

As I faced distraction from the kettle and my phone, disaster struck. The phone slipped from my grip, landing with a sickening thud on the hard kitchen floor. I winced as I saw the impact gravely crack the screen and touchpad. Annoyingly, the phone rebooted, and I silently hoped for the best as I bent down to inspect the damage.

To my relief, after the device came back on, it appeared that, apart from the crack on the screen, everything else seemed to be functioning normally. With a sigh, I carefully placed the phone in a safe spot and turned my attention back to the boiling water, swiftly pouring it into the awaiting custard.

However, when I finally returned to retrieve my phone, my heart sank. My previously operational device had become a victim of unseen damage. The crack, which I had hoped to be superficial, had extended to the inner screen, rendering the phone almost unreadable. I couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment as I realized the extent of the harm.
But despite all this, we thank God.

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.

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.

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.