Mindviewers Stories

Today as I walked to school, I couldn't help but feel proud of my neat and shiny shoes. The rain from a few days back had washed away the dust, leaving the streets with a glistening clean look. It wasn't often that the south east experienced such relief from the dust, and it was something to be grateful for.

My shoes still sparkled as they did when I left home, and with each step, I felt a sense of satisfaction. As I arrived at school, I noticed that everything seemed different. No one was fighting to fan themselves under the oppressive heat, and there was a notable absence of students crowding around the automated hand washing machines.

Even as we piled into the bus, there was a sense of ease and comfort in the air. The usual frenetic energy and complaints about the heat were noticeably absent. The coolness of the day seemed to have cast a tranquil spell over everyone.

While I was aware that the rainy season had not yet arrived and the prevailing weather was still the dry harmattan, I couldn't help but revel in the refreshing change.

Today was a day filled with frenzy and haste. I woke up slightly later than usual, and as I glanced at the clock, panic set in realizing that I had only a short time to prepare for school. I took the fastest bath of my life, brushed my teeth in record time, and dashed out of the house, the lingering scent of toothpaste still in the air.

The practical I had been preparing for was scheduled to start at 2 pm, and as I checked my watch, the time was already 2:06 pm. I rushed to school, my heart racing with the fear of being late. To my surprise, I found that when I arrived, the class hadn't even commenced. My hurried rush had been unnecessary!

With the tension of being late lifted, I decided to treat myself at a nearby canteen. Craving something sweet and refreshing on this scorching day, I grabbed a chilled soft drink. The cold liquid was a much-needed relief from the blistering weather. As I sipped my drink, I took a moment to relax and enjoy the unexpected serenity of the day.

As I made my way to school today, a brisk, autumn breeze swept through the streets, making the morning air crisp and refreshing. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting a golden glow over the neighborhood, painting everything with an enchanting, warm hue. It was a perfect morning, and the walk to school felt like a pleasing stroll through a picturesque scene.

As I turned a corner, my eyes were drawn to an arresting sight. There, standing at the edge of the sidewalk, was a person with the most magnificent dog I had ever seen. The dog was regal and majestic, with a sleek coat that glistened in the morning light. Its expressive eyes gleamed with intelligence, and its proud stance exuded a quiet confidence.

Mesmerized by the dog's beauty, I found myself approaching the person, my steps slowing as I couldn't tear my gaze away from the elegant creature. I struck up a conversation, eager to learn more about this stunning animal. The person, obviously fond of their companion, shared anecdotes about the dog's playful nature and unwavering loyalty, and it only deepened my admiration for the remarkable animal.

As I bid the person and their noble dog goodbye, my mind was abuzz with thoughts of owning a dog of my own. The encounter had ignited a newfound fascination in me, and I couldn't shake off the desire to have such a magnificent creature as my loyal companion. The idea of having a canine friend by my side during walks like these filled me with an unexplainable warmth and joy.

Throughout the rest of my journey to school, my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of different dog breeds, each conjuring vivid images of a loyal and loving companion.thanks

Title: The Shadow Cult

Once upon a time, in the bustling city of Lagos, Nigeria, nestled within its educational hub, the illustrious Lincoln High School, a dark secret resided, hidden beneath a façade of academic excellence and teenage innocence. It was a secret whispered among students, a tale that sent shivers down their spines - the legend of The Shadow Cult Killer.

In the realm of this story, I found myself as an inquisitive student named Tunde. My days at Lincoln High School were abuzz with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension as I delved deeper into the truth behind the dark legend. The hallways reverberated with the fear of the unknown as whispers grew louder, tales of unexplained disappearances brought trepidation to the hearts of students and teachers alike.

It all began when a close friend of mine, Chidi, vanished without a trace. Rumors spread that he had been initiated into a notorious cult known as The Shadow Cult. Desperate to uncover the truth, I ventured into the depths of the school's underground network, searching for answers while cautiously avoiding detection. My mission was not without risk, as I tiptoed through the dangerous and unpredictable territory of the cult killer.

Decoding cryptic messages and deciphering ancient symbols, I uncovered the cult's hidden lair, a secluded room adorned with eerie red candles and disturbing symbols etched on the walls. My heart raced with a mix of terror and adrenaline as I realized the severity of the situation. The cult was preparing for an initiation ceremony, a ritual that would not only extinguish Chidi's innocence but also claim his life.

Determined to save my friend from this ominous fate, I forged a plan. I carefully orchestrated each step, gathering evidence to expose the cult's existence to the authorities while ensuring Chidi's safety. My nights were occupied with sleepless vigils, observing the cult's every move, waiting for an opportune moment to strike.

As the awaited initiation neared, I discovered a weakness in the cult's leader, Obinna. He was torn between the need for power and friendship, having grown up with Chidi. Utilizing this rift, I reached out to Obinna, pleading for Chidi's life and stressing the importance of preserving their long-standing bond.

On the night of the initiation, tensions ran high. I positioned myself in a concealed spot, ready to intervene. Just as Obinna raised the ceremonial dagger to consummate the deadly ritual, our eyes locked. A moment of hesitation flickered through him, his grasp on the knife faltering as memories of their shared past flooded his mind.

"Chidi," I whispered urgently, my voice piercing through the eerie atmosphere, "Remember the friendship, the laughter, the dreams we shared. Choose now, darkness or redemption?"

Obinna's unquestionable bond with Chidi ultimately prevailed over the allure of the bloodthirsty cult. With a decisive swing, he deflected the knife away, severing the hold The Shadow Cult had over him. Chaos erupted as fellow cult members pounced, determined to continue the initiation. But together, Chidi and I fought back, reclaiming our freedom amidst the frenzy.

With our lives spared and the truth exposed, the school and wider community finally breathed a collective sigh of relief; the reign of terror had been shattered. The darkness that had once gripped the halls of Lincoln High School lifted, replaced by a newfound sense of camaraderie and unity.

As for Chidi, though scarred by his almost tragic fate, he emerged stronger, a survivor who defied the odds. Our friendship grew deeper, shaped by the trials we endured and the darkness we confronted. Together, we used our experience to raise awareness about the dangers lurking in the shadows, ensuring no student would ever fall victim to the clutches of such a cult again.

And so, the legend of The Shadow Cult Killer became a tale of resilience, friendship, and the power of reclaiming one's identity. We emerged from that harrowing chapter, forever bound by an unbreakable bond and a shared resolve to protect our school from an lingering darkness that threatened to haunt its corridors.

My name is Chioma , my parents are Farmers they are very poor but managed to send me to college . I am the most intelligent in my class people always bullyed me they said it was not true that I am a virgin because I was very beautiful but I didn't care I was always found reading my book unlike Ada the baddest girl in college always going to night club, sneeking out of school .
Ada: babes Fred called he said we should come to his party
Babe 1: ok na we are in
Ada : wear something sexy ohh this night is going to be wild
Babe 2: you no trust us we go package
Meanwhile Chioma was reading her book as always when the principal Called her to his office
Principal: Chioma sorry to disturb but I have bad news
Chioma: it's ok Hope no problem
Principal: someone just called me and said that your parents are really sick and need treatment
Chioma was sad she didn't have the money
Ada and her gang snuck out of college and went to the party
Fred: see I need another babe ohh or we are over
Ada: which Kain talk be that one where I go find another babe
Fred: I no care but she must fine ohh
Ada: ( standing up ) let's go babes
They all snuck back in and heard Chioma and the principal discursion
Ada: I have a plan
Babe 3: wetin you get for mind
Ada: just play along
Then Ada went to chioma hostel and saw her crying
Ada: I will give you money for your parents treatment Chioma if you agree to follow us to the club next week
Chioma: what...

This is just part one watch out for Episode 2
Thanks for reading

Chioma was surprised
Chioma: you want me to loose my virginity for money
Ada: but if you don't your parents might die
Chioma: but my virginity
Ada: but your parents
Chioma: fine I will do it for my parent
Ada: yes, the party is tomorrow Evening
Chioma: ok
Ada left and went back to her hostel
Chioma pov
I do not want to loose my virginity for someone I do not know and I don't want my parents to die no life is more important I will go
Ada pov
So it was that easy to convince holy Mary ( referring to Chioma) let me call Fred
Ada: Fred I don find I babe we go come tommorow
Fred: eheh I go dey expect una.
The next day
Ada: let us sneeck you to that near boutique
Babe 2: ok then.
They snuck out and even got some clothes for Ada then it was time to go
Ada: Chioma let's go
Chioma: ok( with a scared voice)
They soon reached Fred house . Chioma was so scared so she kept a safe distance, Fred had already plans everything he went to the kitchen got some juice for Chioma but he put in some medicine to make her sleep.
Fred: Chioma have this juice
Chioma: thanks
So Chioma drank everything and immediately fell asleep, Ada and the rest left Chioma and Fred together, so Fred carried her to his room and their it happened, Fred dis-virgined Chioma.
The next day Fred quickly left the bed room so that Chioma won't know they slept together, when Chioma woke up she screamed to see she was in someone's bad room....
This is Episode 2 watch out for Episode 3 ....

Chioma: what how did I get here how oh my goodness I am naked.
Chioma put on her clothes and went to look for Frank
Frank: omo when I fuck that girl virgin.
Frank said to his friends
Chioma: Frank how did I get up to that room and why was I naked
Frank: your friend brought you up( he lied)
Chioma: why was I naked
Frank: I don't know that one ( he lied again)
I didn't know what happened so I just believed him.
So we snuck back to college of course Frank gave me 20,000 I wasn't proud of what I did but I did it for my parents and their treatment. I started to feel some pain in my body to the extent I went to see the schools doctor.
Doctor: hello what can I help you with.
Chioma: doctor I feel pain.
Doctor: let me run some tests.
Chioma: ok doctor.
After running the test he brought the result
Doctor: Chioma you are pregnant.
Chioma: what I can't be I am still a virgin.
Doctor: I can't believe you would do such, I have to call the principal.
The doctor called the principal and told her everything, she was disappointed.
Principal: how come, no you can't stay here with this pregnancy, you are hearby suspended from school today.
Chioma: please ma I am sorry , I am still a virgin pls believe me.
Principal: I have made up my mind.
So I packed my things and went out of college not knowing where to go I couldn't face my parents.
That led chioma to a great disappointment and because of that she couldn't further her studies.

"Babe you have a tail" I screamed as Bianca was about removing her panties.

"Babe please I can explain its not what you think "

She replied kneeling down and begging me not to expose her dirty secret.

Bianca said she grew up with a little tail at the top of her butt and that was what prevented her from having boyfriends until she met me.

She also was hard to give in to s..ex cause of her no to s..ex until marriage policy. But she gave in today cause she was too horny to resist.

I watched as Bianca confide her biggest secret to me with tears. I wish she knew all I ever want is just to go under her legs .

After the emotional Saga, I tried to get her back on the game but she wasn't in the mood, so I let go.

Truth be told Bianca is sexy and pretty in facial looks and that, attracted me. All I want is to knack her and move on with my life.

The next day I saw Bianca rushing and happily entering in my gates.she then broke the news to me that she just got a loan from the bank, to use in doing surgery.

I was amazed "wait what did you use as collateral for the loan" I asked.

She explained that she used her father's house as collateral. I was quite disappointed, because I wished she new all I ever wanted was her body.

Few weeks later the surgery was done with and not quite long I had my plan manifested , I ate her untouched apple.

After fulfilling my plans I began having feelings for Bianca, because her attention towards me doubled . But Still I decided not to give it a thought, we meeeove! .

Been weeks and I've been avoiding her, she gave lot of miss calls but I refused to pick. I was done with her I'll say to my best friend 'Ade' , but deep inside me I still wanted her

One day I was coming back from the club late at night with a stripper, only to see some one standing in my balcony. Behold Thier stands Bianca in tears.

She began begging me for help, even if I don't love her I should save her father's house , if not for her at least for her poor mother.

I pushed her outside my compound and locked the gate .

But as I was about knacking the stripper I got from the club, she said she won't let me in, unless I tell her what happened between I and Bianca.

After explaining to the stripper, she began advising me, I felt touched and my feelings for her showed up. The next day I went to the bank and paid off the loan.

Bianca came to my house to thank me, but rather I asked for her forgiveness and proposed...
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To be continued....

Nursing school has been one of the toughest challenges I've ever faced. The days seem to blend together, one endless cycle of lectures, practical labs, and clinical rotations at the health center. Time has become a luxury, an elusive thing slipping through my fingers as I desperately juggle assignments, readings, and preparing for exams.

There's little time to do most of the things I was fond of. Story writing used to be my escape, a way to let my imagination soar and create worlds of my own. Composing poems felt like breathing, a part of me that I could express freely. But now, those passions have taken a back seat. I miss the joy of weaving words together, of creating something that brings life to my thoughts and emotions. There's an ache in my heart, knowing that my stories are left untold and my poems remain unwritten.

Social media used to be my platform to connect with others, to share my thoughts and creations. I miss the interaction, the sense of community among fellow writers and artists. My absence from these platforms feels like I'm slowly fading from a world I once felt connected to. The little time I have is consumed by studies and exhaustion, leaving me with little energy to engage in the activities that once fueled my spirit.

But amidst the chaos and relentless demands of nursing school, I remind myself why I chose this path. The passion for helping others, the desire to make a meaningful difference in people's lives. These dreams push me forward, igniting a flicker of determination in the depths of my fatigue.

Though the weight of nursing school feels suffocating at times, I know it's a temporary sacrifice for the greater good. So, I press on, knowing that one day, when I hold that nursing degree in my hand, I can reclaim the passions I've set aside.

Excitement and expectation filled the air as I entered the university's well-known gates. After a lengthy holiday, it was the first day of classes again, and the campus was brimming with the enthusiasm of students ready to get back to their studies.

I saw familiar faces as I made my way through the masses, but something wasn't quite right. I noticed few friends speaking cheerfully as I got closer to my section, but there was a slight shift in the atmosphere. Some of them had left to pursue fresh opportunities in other departments. I saw that scenery of my scientific community had changed as time manipulated its complex pattern.

I couldn't help but think back on the four years that had brought me to this moment, as I was approaching the end of my academic career. Like a collection of images the lectures, the late-night study sessions, the victories and setbacks all flashed before my eyes. I came to see that the road had involved not only learning but also developing oneself and being adaptive.

Over the course of the day, I struck up conversations with both known and unfamiliar people. Although there was a lot of joy and laughing in the hallways, there was also a hint of nostalgia. The hallways appeared to echo with stories of friendships made, goals pursued, and academic achievements.
I stopped to sit in a serene campus area in between classes, where I could hear students talking in the distance and the sound of falling leaves. I took out my notebook and started jotting down the pivotal points, victories, and special occasions that characterized my academic journey.

I was feeling more and more thankful for the experiences that had built me with every hour that went by. I felt a fresh sense of purpose awakened when I realized I barely had a year left. This journey had been life-changing, and what lay ahead would be the actualization of years of effort and sacrifice.

I attended a youth meeting in my village and our city guests were speaking to us and advising us to wait for our time and not be in a hurry always, the second guest came and was telling us that we should let all hands be on desk that time waits for nobody..
So i asked them how can we wait for something that can't wait for us 🤣🤣🤣🤣

As I walked through the school gates, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and contentment. The Christmas break had been a period of frugality for me, and as I returned to school, I was filled with the satisfaction of not having spent much. While my friends and classmates were lamenting over the financial strain brought on by the holidays and worrying about paying off their dues, I reveled in the knowledge that I would be sitting comfortably on a cushion of savings.

I entered the lecture hall with a sense of assurance, knowing that I had managed my finances wisely. I watched as my peers grumbled about over-indulging during the festive season, struggling to make ends meet. As they fretted about their expenses, I found solace in the fact that I had made conscientious choices, carefully curbing my spending to secure my financial stability.

However, the dream of financial security was short-lived. Before I knew it, the expenses of the new semester began gnawing away at my carefully preserved savings. Books, course materials, and miscellaneous fees started adding up, slowly chipping away at the modest fortune I had prided myself on. What began as a comfortable reserve soon dwindled, much to my dismay.

As I sit at my desk, typing away, I can't help but feel a pang of disappointment. The amount I had so diligently set aside for the future now stands at a mere 3000 naira. The reality of the situation is sobering. What once seemed like a substantial safety net now feels modest and precarious, barely enough to cover unexpected expenses.

I used to think people opinion really mattered. So I dressed and behaved the way people wanted. Sorry for late introduction, my name is mae, a fresher who just got admission into the university. I was this naive little Christian girl who didn't know much about the world just me and the church.
Everything started when I started living in the hostel and met 3 beautiful ladies amaka,Steph and Juliet as roommates. Being the youngest amongst them they treated me like a younger sister and fought anyone who dared come near me. Thinking I was in safe hands I fully trusted them not knowing what was in stall for me.
That faithful day, Juliet sent me to a "friends"house to give something to him. On getting there the guy and his friends started laughing at me saying..see the way this one is dressed ,she didn't even do her hair well...all these Mary amaka sisters with all back and so on.
I felt really demoralized and little of my self, instantly inferiority complex set in and I went home crying. When they saw me crying and asked what happened,I explained all to them and they laughed saying but it's true now.
Then they advised to brush up and start looking "good". That's how I started dressing indecently just to please others not knowing I was walking into a trap set up by them.
The then introduced me to Micheal and that will change the course of my life forever.
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I hope that one day this curse upon Africans ends but we as Africans still have a long way to go.

A lot of our women who end up as slaves in these Arab countries were not captured by Arabs, but rather deceived by fraudulent travel agents who lie to these women about how much money they can earn working as house helps in Saudi Arabia.

These women arrive in these Arab countries only to get their passport seized by their Arab "buyers" who use them as Sex slaves and every other form of inhuman treatment. They can't even leave afterwards even if they wanted to.

A sane government in Africa should be sensitizing its citizens on the dangers of traveling to Arab countries as an African. Unfortunately our government has no regards for its citizens.

The first day I going back to school. I got admission to college in the year 1994. It happened, it was in another state. I was going on a friend's uncle's hospital Mitsubishi ambulance because my friends unle is a medical Doctor. On Geting to the last two towns boundary bus engine went of and it was getting late as well. A made came out from a bush nearby asked us who we are of which he was told I am a student going back to school. He left without words. After some minute, many men started coming out of the bush, as I can here the sound of many dried leaves because it was hamartan. They were all armed with guns,marchers,bows and so on. The terror was written all over my face they were up to hundred or more heading towards me. When they came, surrounded the means the vehicle, their leader asked who am I? The driver answers, that I am junior student one going to boarding the first time. Their claims follows, "you people are liers, you were simple sent as usual by the other village to kill our villagers as we are in war with them", they claimed. They said that as the war rages the opposition village will hire killers pay them, all they do is come in the middle of the bush stop the bus, when asked someone the answer that the vehicle is spoilt. Once they come out in mass they will open on then and all of them to the last person, then start the (bus) vehicle and drive off. By now I was breathing hard, bathed in sweat and almost shivering. We I finally freed after this long long engaging emotional and psychological war between me and this men. I told to search the vehicle and see for themselves college school student provisions, classroom locker, dornirtory or hostel cupboard. When they are done searching, "!they freed me"!.

In Nsukka, a lively town, Chijioke was getting ready for the new semester at the University of Nigeria. Excitement buzzed in the air as students returned to campus. Chijioke, a hardworking student, looked forward to his studies.

His friend among many others Ngozi, shared the excitement. They explored the university's winding paths, surrounded by jacaranda trees. In the lecture hall, you could hear Igbo names like Nkem, Obinna, and Chinyere – a mix of identities.

As they faced academic challenges, Chijioke and Ngozi found comfort in the rich Igbo culture around them. Igbo sayings filled the air, passing on wisdom from one generation to the next.

Throughout the semester, friendships grew, and the university felt alive with energy. Chijioke, guided by his values, tackled his studies with determination. The campus, in Enugu State, became a place of learning and cultural sharing.

As the sun set, Chijioke thought about the journey ahead. The new semester at the University of Nigeria wasn't just about classes; it was a celebration of identity, friendship, and the pursuit of knowledge within the embrace of Igbo heritage.

Tartenger clutched the worn acceptance letter, the paper crinkling under his sweaty palm. Finally, his bachelor's degree in Engineering awaited, just beyond the registrar's counter. But between him and that coveted parchment stood a wall of debt: unpaid tuition fees, a grim mountain grown over three years of struggle.

He'd juggled menial jobs, nights bleeding into bleary mornings, sleep a luxury traded for textbooks. Each cobbled naira felt like a chip at the granite edifice of his debt. Dates turned into coffee dates, friendships frayed around the edges of borrowed textbooks. Every laugh felt tinged with guilt, every triumph haunted by the phantom figure of his due.

Today, though, hope burned brighter than exhaustion. He'd scraped together the final chunk, a crumpled wad of bills held together by desperate prayer. Crossing the threshold into the bank on campus, he was met by the registrar's bored gaze. Tartenger laid down the money, watching the stack disappear with a bureaucratic sigh.

"Clearance received," the registrar droned at back at the academic complex, handing him a slim folder.

Fingers trembling, Tartenger unfolded the document. There, in stark black and white, was his name, his degree, and a bittersweet freedom. Relief, like a dam breaking, washed over him. He left the registrar's office a lighter man, the weight of debt replaced by the promise of a new beginning. The paper rustled in his hand, a testament not just to academic achievement, but to a debt paid, a ransom settled, and a graduate finally set free.

In God I trust!

Uncle Mike sent words to my mother while I was at the playstation gaming center that I have been admitted into the University of Calabar.

I could feel joy hugging her as she beamed with smiles walking up to me with her arms spread wide like the wings of an airplane and her steps like that of the river goddess, I opened my arms to receive the warmth of her embrace, when we were this close, she fell to her epileptic crisis.

In her room, when she has regained herself, she smiled at the ten heads surrounding her – her ten children.

Myself being the last of them all and the only son, sat close to her, holding her hands very close to my heart in pain . She coughed and tried to sit up and my eldest sister and myself who were closest to her helped her sit up. She reminded us of how our father had always wished for a baby boy that he kept on trying every year, eating lots of banana and consuming so much dates and burukutu as it was rumoured amongst his age grade that it makes the semen thicker, after which he was to meet my mum at the first crow of the cock during her ovulation.

This made my sisters a year older than themselves and when mama finally gave birth to me, he was so happy. He shed his first tears in years after he lost his only brother, this time, it was the tears of joy.

This story I’ve heard countless times on my birthdays that it seemed like a rhyme to me and now mama is repeating it even when it wasn’t my birthday. She became epileptic after papa died when I was two. It was said that papa was killed with “otumokpo” by his childhood friend who happened to court mama but left for the city without a word for mama or her family only to return years after to find mama with ten children for papa. They further said that “eka abasi” (mother earth) had to punish mama by making her epileptic after papa’s death and burial.

I find these to be superstitious and I was determined to put in my best to learn a lot and change the unfair and unjust beliefs in my bush village that is situated close to the Cameroon border, faraway from where lights show up and cars blared horns and release fumes of carbon. It is a place considered as the educationally less developed place and my average score of 260 granted me admission into a school I admired just because of the way our village community school principal spoke about it because it was his alma mater.

Mama admonished us and asked we be like the head of a broom stick that cannot be divided from itself while trying to break it all at once. She said it signified unity. She embraced us one after the other and asked me to sleep beside her.

My elder sisters moved back to their various husbands’ house in the cool of the evening, leaving me with mama and the remaining four of my elder sisters that were unmarried, though Imaobong my immediate senior has a child out of wedlock for Asuqwo. He denied it at first and escaped by night after the child was born because everyone said the child was his replica. “There is no big ear and bulgy eyes in your father’s lineage or mine” mama said while affirming that the Child belongs to “eka abasi, (mother earth). They called my little nephew Ekemini to mean at the right time.

I arrived at Etta-Agbor, just in front of the University of Calabar big gate and beamed with those smiles that said “I have arrived”. The place was littered with hawkers of different wares, people and cars moving in and out of the gate randomly, beggars at one side of the entrance using their ailments – most of which I’ve never imagined existed – as a means to ask for money and saying God bless you more than often. So many billboards littered on the streets with different advert placements and some students taking pictures at the big lantern scene that serves as a roundabout for the junction.

I got into the gate and boarded the school shuttle that is headed to, the male hostel, as directed by Okon, my mother’s aunt’s grandson who happens to be a student here also. I was to stay with him while I got my own hostel space. I called Okon with the Nokia torch phone that was given me by my first in-law as a parting gift to keep in touch with the family. I so much appreciated the phone not minding the green rubber band tied severally behind it to hold the back from falling off. At the moment, it was my most prized possession.

I arrived in Malabor and Okon came to pick me up. I haven’t seen him before, I knew him by the description on the phone – a blue shirt with a write-up behind and a black khaki with little designers on it. “You’re Gershom right? Welcome to Unical and here is Malabor”. He shook me and helped me carry my bag to his room. There was something about him I couldn’t say, his neatly grown beards, his cornrows that looked like the well dug ridges in Ekpri-Ekpe farm, his cologne made me breathe in twice and the way he walked high spirited made me think of models.

I noticed the way he greeted people as we walked down to his room and the way guys in the walkway said “malabite welcome o, I dey come collect welcome otomycin (garri) for your room”. Later I was made to know that otomycin is a name for raw garri – the richest food in the campus.

We got to his room, it was sparsely arranged which was a first indication that the boys don’t cook. He introduced me to his roommates – five able bodied guys – and one of them came out from the wardrobe holding a brown paper rolled with stuff inside which emits smoke from the red end.

His eyes were red, his hair had patches that looked like thorns and he looked fiery. He said “ma man welcome to the cartel, if anyone wan kpi you, tell am say you dey room 135, say Tupac na your brother. Here na jungle o, on how you razz you go collect but no razz, meanwhile be careful. Welcome again”. I said thank you, with a mixture of fear and happiness.

Something about them said they were cultists but Okon looks responsible – except for his cornrows which he said he did because of the just concluded MTN show of which he performed – and is a medical student; from what I heard, medical students don’t even have time for themselves not to talk of being cultists but what do I know, I’m just a fresher. That night, Okon said he was going to need a library to read his book in preparation for his MB (an exam written by 300 level medical students) which is coming up in a fortnight. I said I’d join him because I was afraid I might get choked up from the smoke of brown paper that wafts in the air in room 135. I picked up a novel I had come with, “how to survive in a jungle”, my electric lantern and an umbrella because it was drizzling.

Okon was so loving and treated me like an elder brother would to his newly admitted Junior brother. He got me meat pies and malt from a shop with the billboard hung above the entrance boldly written “De-choice, '' which I testified to his assertion that it would be the best I have tasted”. He asked us to pick up his friend from Hall 3 – the female hostel – according to him, she is his study mate. I wondered how a beautiful girl in Theater and Media, Film and Carnival Studies will be a study mate to a College student but like I earlier said, what do I know? I’m just a fresher.

Eyoawan was so welcoming and hospitable, she hung her hand around my neck as we trekked down to pavilion 1, parked cars apparently waiting for someone and boys and girls in their pairs in dark and hidden places, sitting or standing like lovers. Okon and her discussed things I didn’t hear and laughed out loud at intervals, there’s something about these two I said to myself and deep down, I wished I was the one making Eyoawan smile. We got to pavilion 1 and it was densely populated by medical students, majority were Okon’s course mates because he had this rapport with them. I sat with Eyoawan and she asked me some questions about myself and how I’m finding Unical to be.

Not too long, there was a gunshot by masked guys who ran out after aiming their target. Everyone took the hills through the scene including myself and Eyoawan. The Surveillance arrived at the scene with their hilux van with siren like the Mobile Police. They had rifles with them, they went to the scene and found a student that had been hit, he was shot dead on the spot. Eyoawan took me to my hostel in Okon’s absence. His roommates weren’t around so I was all alone. I couldn’t sleep that night, I was so scared but sleep still had it’s way in the early hours of the morning.

I woke up and there was still no one in the room but I heard noises outside. I got up wearing the clothes I arrived with as I had slept with them without bathing or changing. Everyone surrounded a scene and it was Okon lying dead with his mouth ajar and eyes widely opened. It’s true he was a cultist but a harmless one who helped people recover their stolen phones free of charge and was the very social one. I couldn’t believe my eyes, he died when my Unical dreams just began.

Wake up the bus is leaving soon” mama tapped me. We slept at the park so as to meet up with the early morning bus down to Calabar. She prayed for me, and gave me a bangle to always wear for protection. My nine sisters came with me alongside my uncle. As the bus left, they waved me goodbye and I was in tears, suddenly missing them as I began my journey to my unical dreams.

All it takes is a particular time frame and all your values are depreciated.
I am a girl who believes in friendship and the power of ties. Something above mere acquaintance, something similar to blood or family. I would fight any who aims to harm the other, honestly.

Sometime late last year, this friend that I had trusted, someone I had made a close companion, someone I took as family, hurt me without realizing it.
Funny enough if opportune to read this, won't phantom out that I write about her.

Surely, there are disagreements sometimes but this time, I feel stabbed. Funny enough that I can't wrap my head around a particular fact that made me dread this friendship but I loathe the imagination of what she had inflicted.

A tiny insight...
... A sister's enemy, I made an enemy.
Isn't that what a sister should do?
But what happens when the enemy becomes friends with your sister, and they look at you like the real enemy?

Jugging through my thoughts today and with the new year, I promise to put an end.
Not to the friendship.
I'm putting more exclamations to boundaries. They would hear from me less, and see me rarely, and just then, they would wish for what had been, for what it was an unsaturated friendship.
I put a stop when I'm disrespected.

Maybe my English is too complex to understand, but I write from the depth of my heart.
This is my story.
Good night.

. I reflected on the previous session and semester, acknowledging that my nonchalant attitude towards my studies had been largely driven by distractions and the allure of spending time with friends. I realized that in order to accomplish my academic goals, I needed to channel a little more energy into reading and reclaim my focus.

It wasn't that I didn't care about my studies; on the contrary, I was deeply passionate about my chosen field. However, the appeal of socializing, the ever-present temptations of procrastination, and the comforting ease of simply going with the flow had led me astray. The consequences were palpable – missed deadlines, subpar grades, and an unsatisfactory sense of fulfillment.

This semester, I was determined to make a difference. I sought to consciously distance myself from the fleeting pleasures of distractions and refocus my energies on my studies. I committed to setting boundaries with friends, making time for both socializing and study, and approaching my responsibilities with a newfound determination.

Yet, I was under no illusions. I knew there would be obstacles on the way. It would require a constant battle against procrastination, the courage to say no to invitations when necessary, and an unwavering dedication to my educational journey. And amid the daunting prospect of these challenges, I turned to a source of strength that I had often overlooked – my faith.

I sought God’s guidance and help in achieving my newfound goal of reading prowess, fully aware that I could not face this uphill journey alone. I prayed for the resilience to withstand the allure of distractions, the wisdom to discern when to balance social activities with study, and the fortitude to overcome the obstacles that lay in my path.