Mindviewers Stories

Malachy was known as the notorious flirt during his school days, his charm and smooth talks made many girls fall for him, but he didn't care about anyone's feelings. Once he got what he wanted from them, he dumped them without a second thought.

People tried to advise him and told him that karma would one day catch up with him, but he never listened. He always replied with the statement that he was going to settle down with the most perfect girl for a wife, and he firmly believed that it would happen.

Years went by, and Malachy met Chika, a girl who he thought was perfection and the answer to his prayers. She was honest, beautiful, and had all the qualities he had been looking for in a woman.

Malachy was determined to make Chika his wife, and he showered her with love and gifts. Chika fell in love with him, and they got married in a grand ceremony.

Things started off well, but soon enough, Malachy began to see a different side of Chika. She was not the perfect person he thought she was, she was manipulative and selfish. She started selling his properties behind his back and embezzling his money.

Malachy was devastated and heartbroken, he couldn't believe that the person he loved and thought was his perfect wife could be capable of such actions. He confronted her, but she wasn't remorseful or apologetic. Instead, she eloped with all his money, leaving Malachy alone with nothing.

Malachy's world came crashing down, and he realized that karma had indeed caught up with him. He had hurt many girls in the past, and now he was experiencing the same betrayal and pain.

This man was found this morning having multiple convulsions in his room in a state somewhere in Southern Nigeria.

He was rushed to the hospital and it was observed that 7 nine in.ches nails was driven into his skull.😲😲.
I am asking, how possible is this that he's still alive? Who did this to Him? Was it done physically or spiritually?

Omo, things dey really happen oo😳

Last week, I decided to kickstart my day with a refreshing morning exercise. As I laced up my running shoes and stepped out into the cool breeze, I couldn't help but feel energized and ready to conquer the tracks.

I had just downloaded a bunch of new songs onto my mp3 player, and I couldn't wait to blast them through the loudspeakers as I ran. One song in particular stood out to me - "Do I" by Phyno. Its catchy beats and uplifting lyrics never failed to put a smile on my face.

As I arrived at the tracks, I turned up the volume on my mp3 player, and the familiar intro of "Do I" began to play. The electrifying rhythm filled the air, and I started to jog along to the beat, feeling the music pumping through my veins.

To my surprise, as I ran, I noticed that I had attracted the attention of other early morning joggers. Perhaps it was the infectious energy of the song that caught their ears, or maybe it was my enthusiasm that drew them in. Whatever the reason, I was thrilled to have company on my run.

The clusters of people running beside me joined in on the chorus of "Do I," creating a joyous symphony of voices singing along. It felt like a surreal moment, as if we were all connected by the music, pushing each other to go the extra mile.

With each upbeat verse and powerful chorus, we pushed ourselves harder and faster, united by the music and the shared camaraderie of the morning run. Sweat dripped from our foreheads, but none of us seemed to care. We were too lost in the joy of the moment.

As the song came to an end, we all slowed down to catch our breaths. Smiling and laughing, we exchanged words of encouragement, grateful for the impromptu running community that had formed that morning.

Though the run had started as a solo journey, it had blossomed into an unforgettable group experience, all thanks to the power of music. We bid each other farewell, promising to meet again for more early morning runs filled with laughter, music, and the joy of chasing our fitness goals.

The concept of manhood is one that holds significant importance in society. Throughout history, societies have had specific expectations for men, these expectations define what it means to be a "real man," which ideals have evolved over time and varied from culture to culture. Today, manhood is still an important topic of discussion as society continues to wrestle with defining and redefining masculinity in the modern era.
One reason why manhood is vital to society is that it shapes attitudes towards gender and relationships. From childhood through adulthood, individuals are taught about what defines masculinity, such as strength, independence, and leadership skills. As such, men have acquired a powerful image that has been used to justify many stereotypes and assumptions throughout the years.
Furthermore, manhood has a significant impact on relationships, specifically romantic relationships. Many men believe that they must exhibit certain traits to be "real men" and win the affection of the opposite gender. This results in a lot of pressure and expectations in their romantic ties. Manhood is also important to society as it shapes the role of men in the family and community. Throughout history, men have held specific expected social roles; these roles have varied significantly from culture to culture, but men have always held leadership positions. Today, this still holds as true, and men continue to be seen as the primary providers and heads of households. It is also vital to the development of a young boy; a role model must be portrayed in many life aspects. Men’s leadership play significant roles in the community.
In conclusion, manhood has become an important topic of discussion in society due to its influence on gender and relationships, the role of men in families and communities, among other things. The ideal role of men has evolved over the years, but the qualities of being a “real man” never faded. The notion of manhood can affect a person's life, behavior, and attitudes towards other genders.

Last week, after a heated argument with my elder sister about her excessive time spent at the market and her tendency to loiter around even after finishing her shopping, the family decided that it was my turn to take on the grocery-shopping duties. Reluctantly, I accepted the challenge and prepared myself for an evening of chaos at the market.

As I stepped into the crowded marketplace, I was immediately overwhelmed by the sheer number of people bustling about. It seemed like the entire population had decided to converge on this one spot, leaving no breathing space in sight. My heart sank as I realized that navigating through this chaotic sea of bodies would be no easy task.

I found myself lost among the endless rows of fruit and vegetable vendors, desperately searching for that elusive breathing space. With each step, I was met with wailing sounds from the hawkers shouting out their prices, to the chatter of shoppers bargaining for a better deal. This was war in disguise.

Not only were the people overwhelming, but the distribution of food commodities also seemed strangely scattered. To make my shopping list, I had to hop from one end of the market to the other. I would buy tomatoes in one corner, then embark on a seemingly endless journey of a hundred miles to find a vendor selling vegetables. And just when I thought I was done, I had to take another turn and walk another hundred miles to find a place where rice was sold. It was as if the market itself was playing a cruel game of hide-and-seek with me.

Time seemed to elongate as I spent double the amount of time my sister usually spent at the market, desperately hunting for each item on my shopping list. The evening grew darker. With a sigh of relief mixed with frustration, I finally managed to gather all the necessary items and maneuvered my way out of the people's zoo.

As I arrived home, completely drained, I offered my apologies to my sister and the rest of the family. It was a humbling experience, to realize the challenges and frustrations that come with grocery shopping in such a public market. I vowed to myself then and there that I would never subject myself to such chaos again.

While my siblings laughed at my exhausted state, I rushed to the racks, picked a plate, and arranged for myself a large mountain of delicious-looking noodles from the pot.

In the village of Ovoko, there was a masquerade celebration that was held every year. The people of the village looked forward to this event, where they would dress up in elaborate costumes and masks, and perform traditional dances and songs.

Ella had always been fascinated by the masquerade celebration, even though she had never attended one before. She had heard stories from her grandparents about how magical the night was, filled with mystery and enchantment. So when the day of the masquerade finally arrived, she couldn't resist going to watch the dances and magic.

Her friends were too shy to attend, but Ella didn't mind going alone. As she walked towards the village square, she could hear the sounds of drums and flutes filling the air. The square was decorated with colorful streamers and glittering lanterns, and people were already gathered around, eagerly awaiting the start of the festivities.

Ella found a spot on the edge of the crowd and watched as the masquerades began to dance, spinning and twirling in their costumes. They were truly magnificent, with their brightly colored masks and long flowing robes. As she watched, mesmerized by the beauty of the dance, she felt herself being drawn into the magic of the night.

Suddenly, one of the masquerades approached her and offered her his hand. Ella hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do, but then she took his hand, and he led her into the center of the circle. As they moved together, Ella felt herself becoming part of the dance, feeling the rhythms of the drums in her bones.

For hours, she danced and twirled, lost in the enchantment of the masquerade. She didn't care that her dress was stained with sweat or that her feet were sore from the constant dancing. All that mattered was the trance-like joy that filled her heart.

As the night drew to a close, Ella said goodbye to her new masquerade friends and made her way back home, feeling exhilarated and alive. She couldn't wait for next year's masquerade celebration. She was now a part of the magic and tradition of the village of Ovoko, and she would always remember the magical night that she had experienced.

It was a hot morning, and was already hungry.
I found myself in possession of just #300. Determined to satisfy my hunger, I dashed to the store, desperately seeking three eggs to fry and quickly tackle the hunger.

But as I stood in my kitchen, a bold idea popped into my head. Why not try something new? Feeling a surge of inspiration, I cracked the eggs into a bowl, ready to embark on a new inventory adventure.

In a professional manner, I added a splash of milk, a sprinkle of sugar, and a pinch of salt to the egg mixture. The kitchen was soon enveloped in an aroma that could rival the finest restaurants in the world. I couldn't wait to get this heavenly stomach inside my stomach, I thought.

I eagerly picked up my fork, imagining the fabulous flavors that awaited. But as soon as I took a generous bite, my smile quickly morphed into a contorted frown. It was a disaster!

The taste that greeted my unsuspecting taste buds was a catastrophe beyond belief. It was as if the eggs had turned into a chaotic culinary circus, where milk, sugar, and salt were performing wild acrobatics that left me utterly bewildered. My mouth was assaulted with contrasting flavors that could only be described as comically disastrous.

Sitting there, perplexed and disappointed, I realized the gravity of my mistake. Trying something new had led me down a culinary rabbit hole, and now I was left with an unappetizing disaster. It was a hilarious reminder that sometimes, it's best to stick to the tried-and-true recipes and leave the culinary adventures to the professionals.

In between laughter and disappointment, I made a solemn vow to myself. Never again would I risk my last bit of money on such an outlandish experiment.

Omo, I just carried the whole mess to the kitchen, emptied in my trash bad and went back in to think about my life.

It had been a long stressful day, after toiling on the farmland for 2hrs, I had to pull out my bottle of water which had become warm already and sat under a tree quite a reasonable shade from the scorching sun and a lovely distance to view the flowing stream.

I gulped down some of the water from my bottle, brought out my device to check out how much time I had left, it was about 35mins, my battery would die before it clocked the time. "Maybe I can explore a little more of nature before I go home" I lazily shrugged, moving closer to the stream. Squatting, I scooped some water and washed my face, I didn't understand if it was necessary or I was just being carried away in the lukewarm wind of thoughts.

Right after washing my face, I gazed at my reflection in the water for a considerable time, 'Must life continue like this always? Struggling to get a good life, family and then die off?' It's like an insane endless cycle that sometimes get you wondering why we're even here.' I paused for a second, stood up and retreated to the tree shade, it was already sunset.

"Bethrand has been gone for one hour already, did he got trapped in his traps?" I soliloquized before emptying the contents of my water bottle. I tried dialing his line but on the second try, my phone buzzed and died out, "Such a pity" I hissed, "We're like this, one day our battery is going to run out, we don't even know whe-" "C'mon let's go home man," Bethrand interrupted from a distance holding a meat in his hand, "Right away" I hastily responded, it's a relief to finally let these thoughts die for a while and live life good while I can.

Either like the flowing stream or the dead device, what matters is the legacy they left behind, just make yours worth it

I love the way my church focused invited a doctor to come and talk on Genotype yesterday in church instead of the actual preaching.

One of our member asked why he's AA and his wife is AS and their daughter is SS.

Doctor said the daughter isn't his own, na so church scatter 💔💔

I was only five years old and we had just moved into that neighbourhood. My father worked at the hospital, which required us to move a lot. The hospital, which was run by a church, had a habit of transferring its hospital staff to a new station every after about six years. That’s how we happened to find ourself in that town and in that neighbourhood. Under normal circumstances, we were supposed to live in the hospital compound. The hospital actually had a compound for its staff. However, we were told it was full. We had no choice but to seek accommodation in town.

My family was composed of my dad, mum, younger sister and I. My younger sister was three and had just started school before we were forced to move. My mum was a teacher in the private sector and my dad as you already know, was medical personnel.

It was difficult for us to have accommodation. However, my dad was advised to seek the help of a housing agent. While our belongings were packed at the hospital store room, we had to wait another two weeks before we could get a call from the agent. He asked my dad to see him in his office the following day. He said he had been able to secure for us a good apartment for a family our size. My dad was very pleased and promised to see him the next day without fail. The next day, my dad took me along in his car to see the agent. We got to his office some thirty minutes later and this conversation followed.

“Good Day, Sir and welcome.” The agent said.
“Good Day, young man. How are you?”
“I am fine, Sir.”
“So, any luck yet? Have you been able to get an apartment for me like you promised you would?” My dad asked.
“Yes, Sir. I have. A nice apartment. I hope you will love it.”
“I hope so too. But why did you say that?” My dad asked, bewildered.
“The neighbourhood, Sir. I am not a very big fan of that neighbourhood. In fact, I am not crazy about that neighbourhood at all.” The agent said, sweating.
“Why? What is wrong with the neighbourhood?’ My dad asked.
“It is said that witches and wizards inhabit the neighbourhood. Terrible things have been happening in that neighbourhood. In fact, a lot of terrible stories have been coming from that part of town.”

My dad was a devout Christian. As much as he believed evil spirits exist, he also believed strongly in the holy spirit. Stories of ghosts and evil spirits didn’t scare him. He believed nothing under the sky can harm him as long as his faith and trust in God was unshaken.

“Tell me some of the stories of that neighbourhood you have heard about.” My dad said.
“Are you sure you really want to hear?” The agent asked.
“I do. Please tell me. I am, a busy man and I don’t have time to waste. Go on with your stories about painted devils.” My dad was getting impatient.
“Sir, the stories are real. These stories are not about painted devils. They are real. For example, the mother of the lady who owns the apartment I am getting for you was said to be a witch. She has died, anyway. However, rumour has it that, the landlady was her favourite child. She therefore passed on all her witchcraft to her before dying. It is rumoured that she killed her husband, that is the father of the landlady.” The agent narrated.

My dad didn’t seem to be scared by the stories. In addition to his strong and unwavering believe in God, my dad was also a very stubborn man. He was also very adventurous, a trait I had unfortunately acquired.

“The father of the landlady; was he rich?” My dad asked the agent.
“Very rich, Sir. Very, very rich.” The agent said.
“That explains it.” My dad said, laughing. “Whenever a rich man dies, people always accuse his poor and innocent wife. That is Africa. I don’t believe any of your stories. Let’s talk about the rents, terms and conditions and when I am moving in.”
“Ok, Sir. If you say so. I just said I should tell you what I need to tell you, so that you don’t say I hid anything from you in the future.” The agent said.
“Alright, thank you. Now let’s get to the real business of the day.” My dad had really become impatient now.
“The apartment costs 50,000 a month. You have to pay one-year rents upfront.”
“Ok, what else?”
“There are just two apartments in that particular building. Yours is at the right-hand corner. The landlady also lives in the compound. Her own apartment is directly opposite yours. However, there is a huge space separating the two buildings. You can move in as soon as you are able to pay the money.” The agent explained.
“That will be tomorrow. I will pay tomorrow, clean the house and moving in the day after. Now take this.” My dad said, handing him the agency fees.
“Thank you, Sir. Thank you very much. I appreciate.”
“That’s alright, young man. Now any other ghost stories?” My dad asked with a smile on his face.
“None whatsoever, Sir.” The agent said. I suspected in his mind, he said, “You will find out for yourself.”

My dad asked me to get into the car and we drove off. As we drove home, he warned me not to tell my mum anything about the agent’s stories. He made me to expressly promise him I wouldn’t. I did promise I wouldn’t and I had no intentions of not keeping my promise. My dad was not the kind of person whose promise you would break in any circumstance. He was a great disciplinarian but very caring and loving.

My dad hadn’t believed anything he was told by the agent. To him it was an old wives’ tale. To him it was stories men told each other when they were drinking at their ogogoro joints. However, as young as I was, I believed the agent and I was very angry at my dad for making me promise not to say anything to my mum.

I believed the agent because I had experienced some strange things in our former station. I couldn’t tell if they were real or not but they were very vivid and explicit. One day, while I was at the back of the house, I had seen witches, carrying little babies on their backs, dancing. They disappeared as soon as they realized I had seen them. At night I was always seeing a black head always looking and blinking at me. I also once had a hallucination where some wizards were trying to kill me and my dad was begging them not. Suddenly my dad was dragged away and as they attempted to strike me; my three years old younger sister appeared in the form of an angel. With a halo around her head and saved me.

I had never told anyone any of these devilries. As young as I was, I kept them in my mind. I decided that as we moved into the new house, if my father didn’t want to take any precautions, I would. For the sake of my mum and younger sister.

TO BE CONTINUED…❣️
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Emma as he preferred to be called, had always been a quiet boy. He wasn't one to take the spotlight or be the center of attention. But today, he had no choice. The history teacher had announced that the class was expected to give a presentation on any historical event they deemed significant. Emma was nervous, but he knew he had to prepare.

As he walked back home from school, he contemplated the presentation. What was he going to talk about? Would he be able to speak coherently in front of the class? All these thoughts consumed him as he arrived home.

But his fears were soon set aside as he was faced with a different problem. Emma realized that the street light on his street had gone out. This was not the first time it had happened, but it was a problem. Emma needed to iron his uniform for the presentation, and without a light source, he was in trouble.

As the evening dragged on, Emma prayed for a solution. It was then that he saw a group of agents from the electricity company walking past their house. Emma saw them as a ray of hope. They were there to fix the street light, but unfortunately, the light never came on.

As night fell, Emma tried to prepare himself for the presentation, but his mind kept wandering to the dark street outside his window. He imagined the street light shining brightly, lighting up the night, but sadly that never happened. Emma grew frustrated and could not sleep. The pitch-black darkness outside his window was discouraging.

As the hours ticked by, Emma could no longer bear to lay in bed. Despite being unhappy that he would be putting on rumpled clothes in front of all the students in school, he took the presentation most seriously and read with undiluted zeal and effort.

The next day, he stood in front of the assembly, hands trembling, and was about to stutter, but all of a sudden, like a wave of fresh air, he remembered how hard he had prepared for it and how he risked his sleep.

An ovation shook the ground when he ended his speech flawlessly.
Behind those rumpled clothes was a soon-to-be most famous student in school.

It was a Saturday morning, and everyone was buzzing with excitement because the next day marked the celebration of independence. However, I didn't share the same enthusiasm.

As usual, my mom was jotting down a long list of items to buy for the market. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw the extensive list and questioned her about it. With a smile, she told me to fetch my dad.

I ventured outside in search of my dad and heard his voice emanating from a neighbor's house. Curious, I tried to figure out what was happening there.

It turned out to be a heated argument between a husband and wife. The man was frustrated about not being able to afford all the items his wife wanted for the celebration. The wife, on the other hand, was adamant about having everything, no matter the cost. Thankfully, my dad arrived just in time to prevent a physical altercation.

I delivered the message to my dad, and he accompanied me back home. On our way, we passed another family, all hands on deck, busily preparing various dishes for the celebration. I couldn't help but wonder if all these activities were necessary in our current Nigeria, where so many things weren't working.

My dad knew the purpose of the call from my mom and asked if I had seen the list. Although I had seen it, I decided to keep it a secret and denied knowing about it.

When we arrived home, my mom handed the list to my dad, who exclaimed, "Why is this list so long, woman?" He asked if there was any way to make changes to it, but my mom insisted that everything was necessary. My dad went inside and brought out money, and I could see the joy on my mom's face.

She headed to the market and purchased everything on the list. Upon returning, she surprised us with goodies from the market. We eagerly awaited the next morning for the celebration, filled with happiness and anticipation.

I had spent all my time preparing for the most challenging exam of the semester, and my brain was fried. I needed a break from all the stress, a moment of respite.

As I sat at my desk, a sudden craving for hot, good food. The thought of a steaming bowl of soup or a hearty plate of pasta became unbearable to resist. Didn't realize it was almost night and my stomach had been bare with emptiness.

I headed into the kitchen. I rummaged through sack bags, gathering the ingredients for a simple but satisfying dinner. The aroma of spices and herbs filled the air as I imagined the uncooked food out of hunger.

But then disaster struck. I had filled the pot a little too full, and as the water came to a boil, it started overflowing. Panic surged through me as the hot, bubbling liquid spilled onto the stovetop, igniting a fiery blaze. Flames engulfed the pot, and I watched, frozen with shock.

Realizing that I needed to act quickly, I grabbed a wet towel from the sink and rushed to control the flames. The searing heat and smoke filled the room as I fought to extinguish the fire. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the flames went down, leaving behind a charred pot.

Exhausted and shaken, I abandoned any notion of continuing with my cooking. The pungent smoke filled my nostrils and flushed out every desire that I had for making a sumptuous meal earlier.

As I cleaned up the mess and surveyed the damage, I realized how fortunate I was that the situation hadn't escalated further. It was a humbling and same time caused a dismay.

I just flung open my kitchen door, and dived on my bed.
With hunger hitting me up, I had to struggle to sleep as that was the best thing to do then.

As I lay in bed, trying to catch some sleep after a long day, I started to hear the sound of buzzing around my ears. At first, I thought it was just a fly and clap it away with my hands, but then I realized it was a mosquito.

As the night progressed, the buzzing got louder and more annoying, and I began to feel the bites on my skin. I tried to ignore it, hoping that I could sleep through it, but it was impossible. I was tossing and turning, slapping at the mosquitoes, using pillowcases to cover my head, but all my efforts were in vain.

As I lay there, frustrated, I wished for a second chance to go back home and grab my mosquito net. I made a mental note to purchase one at the nearest store first thing in the morning.

I was surprised to hear peaceful snores coming from my neighbours' rooms, who had probably long since adjusted to the constant buzzing in the background and the bites on their skin. This made me even more irritated and angrier at the mosquitoes that were tormenting me. I couldn't believe how I had taken mosquito-free nights for granted.

Finally, the night passed into morning, and I got up, exhausted and irritated with the mosquito bites all over my body. I quickly moved to the nearest store to buy the much-needed mosquito net. That simple net completely changed my life. I was finally able to sleep peacefully, without the constant buzzing and biting. You can never enjoy this story if you hadn't had the experience before

In a small town in Japan, a 95-year-old grandmother, known as "Gaming Grandma," has become an online sensation. She started playing video games as a way to connect with her grandchildren during the pandemic, and she quickly became a skilled gamer. Now, she livestreams her gaming sessions and has a growing fanbase of all ages who admire her passion and dedication. Her story reminds us that it's never too late to discover new hobbies and talents.

I remember the day when I went to the market with my close friend, Victor. We had decided to go shopping for clothes, looking for something stylish and affordable. As we entered the clothing store, we came across a rack of shirts from a popular brand that we both liked.

While going through the shirts, I noticed that the ones with the originality tag were significantly more expensive than the ones without it. I decided to opt for the cheaper shirts, knowing that they were of the same brand and quality, minus the inflated price and the originality tag.

However, Victor had a different approach. He insisted on buying the expensive ones, stating that he wanted to showcase his preference for quality and authenticity. He made fun of me for choosing the replicas, calling them cheap imitations. I tried to advise him, explaining that the only difference between our shirts was the tag and the price. But Victor wouldn't listen. He ignored my advice and insisted on his choice.

Days later. By coincidence, we both ended up wearing our newly bought shirts on the same day. As we walked through the streets, I couldn't help but notice the attention my shirt was getting. People were complimenting its vintage charm—its slightly darker shades giving it a unique and distinct look.

On the other hand, Victor's shirt didn't seem to attract as much attention. As time went by, it became evident that his expensive purchase was fading away, losing its original color, and losing the appeal it once had.

Meanwhile, my cheaper replica shirt remained as good as new. Its fabric retained its vibrant colors, and its authenticity shone through, despite the absence of the originality tag.

I have conserved my money and had something of higher quality.
Victor regretted his decisions and has been taught.

Maxwell was a handsome boy who always caught the attention of girls wherever he went. He had striking features and a charming personality, and it wasn't long before girls started admiring him. However, Maxwell wasn't interested in flirting around. Instead, he focused on his studies, sports, and personal growth.

People often misjudged him as being snobbish and proud, but that was far from the truth. He was simply someone who believed in discipline and hard work, choosing to stay focused on his goals rather than wasting time chasing girls. While he maintained cordial relationships with people, he was never one to indulge in small talk or idle gossip.

One day, Maxwell met a girl named Ozioma, and it wasn't long before he was drawn to her. She was smart, confident, and had an unpretentious charm about her that he found refreshing. They started spending time together, and Maxwell found himself opening up to her in a way he had never done before.

As they got to know each other better, Maxwell realized that Ozioma was someone he could be himself around. She appreciated his dedication and hard work, and encouraged him to pursue his dreams. He also discovered that beneath her confident exterior, Ozioma had her own share of insecurities and vulnerabilities..
Let's continue this story next time friends

From school I fell very ill and when I returned from school too it wasn't funny at all , I kept on taking drugs for over two weeks it wasn't just working out or it will stop during the day and at night it will be like I was delivered to the devil himself and the whole process starts again.
So parents suggested I go for test buh I was so scared because at my dad's work place some people were diagnosed of Corona virus so I just had the phobia for the so called test. The illness wasn't getting funny anymore I decided to go for the test anyways and the results came out and it was malaria and typhoid fever.
Long story short am responding to treatments now , never let fear take the better part of you or you might die in the process , lesson successfully learnt.

It's 3am and I am seated on the edge of my bed, unable to sleep, the environment is so creepily silent, it feels as if I've been submerged in the quietest black hole of nature. "Why did I wake up now?" I hissed before checking my phone to see when I slept off, it was 1.30am.

I've been having these kind of unwanted wake-ups but it usually doesn't last for 15 minutes as I'd sleep off right away. This time, I felt a stronger presence in my room, a stronger force of insomnia, I was weak but my body had refused to succumb to sleep for 20 minutes.

A gust of wind blew into my room, "I could've sworn I closed this window before I slept" I whispered, time gave me no space to think clearly, I hurriedly bolted the window and returned to my position. I wondered if I had also left the second window open and in a bit to confirm, I raised the curtain to be sure, there it was! Wide open.

"I stayed up in bed till 1.30am and didn't close this window?" I questioned as if I had a roommate before slamming the window shut. Something dropped at my doorstep simultaneously with the slam, I waited in my dark room for the next pin-drop sound I could hear but nothing came. Then lightning struck and it flickered in my room for a split second, long enough to reveal the figure of a masked man in the mirror standing right in the middle of the room.

I fidgeted for my flashlight and pointed it in the presumed man's direction but no one was there, I exhaled in relief, "It must be the lack of good sleep lately," I hopped in bed hoping the tranquility of the incoming rain will grant me a peaceful night rest till dawn.

We had a neighbor that had stayed in our compound for two years. She seemed so quiet. The woman would leave her house early in the morning without greeting anyone including my parents and none of us had seen her going to church.

The compound was fenced and the houses were spacious with each having their own flats(one bedroom flat). The flats were up to eight in total.

People call her different names of which they said she gave herself.

Regardless of the number of times people preached for her, they all fell on deaf ears. The day I tried sharing the word of God to her she drove me off adding that I should better distance myself from her hence, deáth would be my calling.

That word alone got me thinking.

With the way the woman was behaving, everyone became so curious about her, seeing a grown up woman like that staying all alone wasn't normal at all except if something was hidden underground. She barely had visitors.

Some person's thoughts were

"Is she childless? Could she be barren? What about her friends and family members?"

Others were murmuring and gossiping about her. Seeing her weird behaviours, my parents warned me to stay away from her. Of course I told them I would heed their advice.

I was the type of person that always loves to dig into something that I found suspicious.

"There's something fishy about this woman. I'll get to the bottom of it. I'll look for a way to enter that her house that no one has entered." I told myself.

The day officially came. That day I closed from church on time because of her. The compound was scanty except for the woman that I sighted from our window sitting down on her verandah with hands placed on her cheeks. She was soliloquizing and smiling at the same time.

They restored power and I abruptly went to turn on the pump so that the two tanks could get filled up with water.

Not long, I saw her dressed on a red gown and leaving the house with her bag. I noticed she didn't lock the door. She just shut it and left, I decided to grip hold of that opportunity to dig out what she was hiding.

I trailed her till she left the gate before turning back. I observed the whole place and everyone was absent and majority of them were still in church.

I rushed to our verandah, pulled my palms and crept to her room door. I observed and no one was watching so I opened it, entered inside and shut the door behind me.

Inside the room was filled with sands giving the impression that it hadn't been swept for years.

I trailed it to her room. Everywhere was filled with cobwebs and on top of her bed was a human skull tied with a dark material. I got frightened till my legs began to shake like a leaf. About five red candles were lit they were already half burned. The mattress was so filthy.

The smell oozing out from her room wasn't friendly at all.

I abruptly heard someone's sound and my heàrt flown out. Immediately I turned, I saw her standing there looking at me and speaking in a weird tongue. She had a visage that threatened more than a charging bull.

I retreated and accidentally slipped off, collapsing on the ground.

"What are you doing in my room!" She thundered furiously while drawing close.
Has anyone had such strange experience??

As I walked up to the bus stop, I couldn't help but notice the dilapidated bus waiting there. It had seen better days, that was for sure. Its faded paint job spoke much about its age and questionable mechanical stability. But it was my only option, there were no other buses around and I was determined to reach my destination with no delay.

The bus was packed, and I found myself squeezing into a vacant seat near the back. I couldn't help but feel a little uneasy as the engine groaned and wheezed into action. It seemed like this rusty old bus was as unsure about its travel capabilities as I was.

As we began our journey, the bus began to bounce and rattle with every pothole and bump in the road. It was like being on a wild roller coaster, except without the exhilaration. With every jolt, my buttocks took a beating, and I couldn't help but wince with each painful landing. Girls on the bus screamed even before the driver reached a posthole.

To distract myself from my aching behind, I decided to engross myself with a movie video on my phone. There was a guy dressed as if he were ready to climb Mount Everest, complete with hiking boots and a backpack. A woman sitting across from me had a parrot perched on her shoulder, and it kept squawking and flapping its wings, adding another layer of chaos to the already rowdy atmosphere. Was as if I was a refugee.

But the most amusing sight was a little kid with a balloon. Every time the bus hit a particularly rough patch of road, the balloon would wildly bounce around, nearly smacking unsuspecting passengers in the face. The child would giggle uncontrollably as his balloon had a mind of its own, he was unbothered be the falls and impacts he took on each jolt.

Despite the chaos and discomfort, there was an odd atmosphere between us passengers. We would exchange knowing smiles and empathetic nods with each jolt or bounce. We were all in this together, after all.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of bumpy roads and heart-stopping moments, the bus came to a halt. I stumbled off, my legs feeling like jelly, and couldn't help but laugh at the whole experience. I had made it to my destination intact, with no injuries other than my aching buttocks.