Uncategorized Stories & Experiences

When I woke up this morning, l realized I didn't have much to do, and I'd be bored staying at home all day, so I decided to follow my dad to the farm.

The farm wasn't too far from my house so we walked there. I was wearing sneakers so I took it off because I did not want to look to dirty while going home and since the farm wasn't bushy, I went in barefooted.

I was in the farm for about two hours, helping to plant some things and when I finished, I told my dad I was going home.
I walked over to where I kept my shoes and proceeded to put them on. The right foot already on, I was about putting on the left when I felt a stone in it. I turned the shoe so the stone could fall out, lo and behold, alongside the stone fell a large black scorpion, you all need to hear the way I screamed😂.
My dad ran over and quickly used a stone to smash the scorpion which was already scurrying away.

I have been stung by a scorpion when I was little and the pain is not something I want to experience ever again

There lived a bright and determined young woman named Grace. Grace had always dreamed of pursuing her passion for science and making a difference in the world through her research. However, her family faced financial challenges that made it difficult for her to afford college.

Despite the obstacles in her path, Grace never gave up on her dreams. She poured her heart and soul into her studies, excelling in her classes and dedicating countless hours to conducting research projects in her spare time. Her hard work and perseverance caught the attention of her teachers and mentors, who saw her potential and encouraged her to apply for scholarships.

One day, Grace received an email that would change her life forever. It was a notification that she had been awarded a prestigious scholarship that would cover the cost of her tuition and living expenses for the duration of her studies. Overwhelmed with gratitude and joy, Grace couldn't believe that her dream was finally within reach.

With the weight of financial burden lifted off her shoulders, Grace threw herself into her studies with renewed determination and passion. She embraced every opportunity that came her way, seizing the chance to learn from renowned professors, collaborate with fellow students on groundbreaking research projects, and attend conferences where she could share her findings with the world.

As she walked across the stage on graduation day, wearing a cap and gown adorned with honors cords, Grace couldn't help but reflect on the journey that had brought her to this moment. She knew that without the scholarship that had changed her life, none of this would have been possible. With tears of gratitude in her eyes, she vowed to pay it forward by helping other students achieve their dreams, just as she had.

The school bus always came as early as 7a.m to pick my kids up for school.

So I usually woke up as early as 5a.m to start getting them prepared for school and also get ready for work since I equally left home for work at that time too.

On this particular day, I had woken up very late. I ran a very high temperature in the night.

Since it was glaring that they were going to miss the school bus that morning, I decided to take permission from my work place to be a few minutes late to work.

That was the only way to avoid my salary getting slashed by month end.

I quickly took them to school before heading to work that morning.

I was still at work when a staff at my children's school called telling me to come pick my kids up from school.
From the tone of her voice, I could sense that she was very angry with me for keeping her in school by that time.

It was already 5p.m, I was already an hour late.

"Please madam, don't be annoyed. I'm coming now" I said as I packed the files in front of me

I still had piles of work in front of me but at that moment, I needed to pick my kids up from school first.

That was the hardest part of being a single mum!

After spending almost an extra one hour on the road because of the terrible traffic jam, I finally got to their school but met it locked!

I quickly dialed the number that had called me earlier;

"Hello madam, please I'm in school now. Where are you?" I asked feeling sorry for the poor woman.

"I left school thirty minutes ago. They should be with the school security man. Just knock on the gate." She said.

"Okay, thank you very much and I'm really sorry for keeping you in school till that time" I apologized before I ended the call.

After standing in front of the gate knocking for over 5 minutes, the security man finally opened the gate.
He must have been deeply in sleep seeing how drowsy he looked.

"Good evening...Please I came to pick my kids" I said

"Your pikins still dey school?" he asked looking confused as he walked towards the waiting room.

"No child dey inside there oh" he said walking towards the hate

"Those two children one madam wey dey teach here drop for you" I tried explaining to him.

"Oh!...Oh!...Oh!...i don remember...They don go since na" he said

"I don't understand...go how?" I asked confused

"Look at it here na...your husband name no be Stephen?
He don come carry them...He no tell you?" he said pointing at the student's sign out register.

The handwriting looked exactly like my late husband's writing😱

I did not know whether I should run away or scream. I felt my legs trembling profusely. This man was huge, he looked like a Dwayne Johnson in a black skin .

I looked at him straight in the eyes and met his gaze. I noticed his eyes were fixed on my chest. I was about to asked him who the heck he was when I heard footsteps again, this time it was the woman who brought me here that was coming down from the stairs with a tray in her hands. It must be food I guess, I really needed to eat because I was d.ead famished.

"Oh!" She uttered as she headed for the dinning table..." Honey I'm so sorry for not informing you about our guest; I picked her up today at the motor park"

The man did not even move a muscle, he just smiled at me and made his way to the dinning table. ..." Join us for lunch" he said in his thick voice as he hanged his coat at the back of the chair he was sitting on.

"Yes come and join us" the woman beckoned too.

I dropped my bag by the corner of the sofa and gently walked towards the dining table. They were both looking at me as I walked to join them. The woman took out a plate and dished out food for me. It was egusi and eba. I really needed something like this and I was hallucinating already.

When she placed the food in front of me, I hurriedly washed my hands and dug into it like a hungry soul who hasn't eaten for five years. My gosh! the food was tasty, who ever made this meal must be very good at it. I have never in my life had something like this to eat. Thick egusi soup with two large pieces of goat meat garnished with small small pieces of fish ; where I come from, soups are often times very watery and you would hardly find meat in our meals,

They let me eat to my full. The woman even added extra when I was done...." Eat my dear" she said smiling......" You are really hungry I guess"

I did not even respond to her, I was busy with the food, my worry was just the man who has not touched his food yet. He was just looking at me with a face void of emotions. "Should I be concerned?" I asked myself in whispers as I swallowed the eba I had in my mouth. That was the last of it and I made sure to lick my plate clean.

"Drink water" the man said. "You might choke" he added.

I looked at him for a while and then shifted my gaze to the woman who nodded in agreement. I reach out my hand and grabbed the bottle of water and drank cautiously.

Something is not right, I could feel it in my spirit. There's something fishy about this people.

"Did you say you are a pastor's wife?" I asked boldly like an investigative journalist.

" Oh yes" she replied wearing a smile on her face. " I'm so sorry I did not introduce myself earlier on, you never did too, but by the way, I'm Mrs jala aguiche and this is my husband Ian aguiche the senior pastor of word of life international"

"I'm sure you must have heard about word of life before " the man said as he began to eat his food.

"Not at all" I responded....."my first time actually "

"Really?" He said as he raised a ball of eba to his mouth.

"Tell us about yourself too" Mrs jala requested. " We have to know you too if you must stay with us"

"Stay with us?" Ian asked, almost choking. He quickly reached out for a bottle of water filled his cup to drink.

I looked at him and he was looking at me too while he drank the water.

When he was done drinking, he cleared his throat and turned to his wife.

"Honey we cannot just bring up a stranger from the street and house them under our roof just like that. The world has become something else lately"

"But she is stranded " she replied him compassionately

They kept at it for a while and I just sat there looking at them both as they argued about whether to let me stay or let me go. Clearly, the man was scared, but how can huge man like this be scared of what a fifteen years old girl could do. Is he that weak?

"It's fine " I screamed at them both....." It's okay, you don't have to argue about whether I'm staying or not, I'm a stranger and I don't belong here so I guess I'd have to go. Thanks for the meal"

I stood up to go but the woman dragged me back and asked me to sit down for a minute. She then beckoned on her husband to follow her. He stood up swiftly and I sensed a form of agitation. They both disappeared into a room just by the corner of the dinning area.

I just sat there with my eyes fixed on the door. It was now that It was beginning to hit me that I made a mistake to just run away to the city without connection. What if they don't allow me to stay with them here tonight, how would I do this night? Where would I sleep? Ian has afore mentioned that it is terrible out there in the streets. How would a fifteen years old girl like me survive out there in the dark?........"i won't survive a night " i whispered as tears began to roll down my face.

Tbc.....

She had never been able to imagine life without him so she was willing to do anything to make him stay. "it was my fault", "I made him angry" she would say anytime she had to explain a swollen cheek or a black eye.
"He's a good man, I just need to stop making him angry" she would say in his defense. Her parents were being biased, her sisters jealous because they were not yet married, she loved her brother but he was being too over protective and her friends too opinionated. Couldn't they see how much he loved her and all he did stemmed from the place of love, they really needed to mind their businesses so gradually she started becoming unavailable for family gatherings, she always felt too tired to meet up for the girls night out and oh! she was always apologizing for not being at home to entertain visitors.
And so slowly but surely she alienated herself from those who were interfering in her life and marriage, they needed to get a life of their own and leave her to hers. She loved her husband and it was both of them against the world....or so she thought.
Alas! she couldn't take it anymore, she needed help, needed to break free but there was nowhere to go, no one to turn to for she had shut out those who cared. Shame and pride forbade her from reaching out and so she took it all in strides and endured it all until she was able to break free.... only this freedom was a different kind of freedom.
Today was a memorable day for her as she was surrounded by those she loved, her family and friends all gathered together celebrating her freedom albeit a solemn celebration. How she wished it could go on like that forever but alas! it wasn't meant to be, everybody had to go and she would be alone again. Being alone was something she was used to but this time it was a different kind of alone...
It was time for her loved ones to go and everybody bade her farewell as one by one they dropped flowers on her grave and departed, including the one she had lived and died for. She was alone again but this time it was a different kind of alone....a forever kind of alone.

In a small village, a prophet's wise eyes gazed upon a young mother's swollen belly and declared that her unborn son, Lai, would achieve greatness. But with a twist - his greatness would spring not from his honesty or integrity, but from his extraordinary ability to spin intricate webs of deception. The prophet's voice echoed through the years: "Lai's lying tongue shall be his greatest asset."

As Lai grew up, his words dripped like honey, sweet and enticing. He wove tales of wonder, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and people hung onto his every word. Sometimes, the devil himself peeked over Lai's shoulder, marveling at the young man's skill. Lai claimed that his mother's steaming pot of ewedu soup had resurrected couples slain by Fulani herdsmen in Ogbomosho, and people nodded in awe. He described a giant cat strolling across the moon's surface, its whiskers twitching with delight, and villagers gathered 'round, their faces aglow.

Lai's lies earned him praise, recognition, and eventually, great power. He boasted of inventing a machine that could turn thoughts into reality, and people begged him to build one, their eyes shining with hope. He claimed that the Queen of England had once sent a royal carriage to whisk him away to Buckingham Palace, where she begged him to marry her, but he refused, his nose tilted in mock humility. Soon, people addressed him as Sir Lai, their voices dripping with reverence.

He lied and lied and lied, his words painting vivid pictures in the minds of his believers. He began to wonder if he was actually lying or saying the truth, so convincing were his tales. His lies became his reality, and he lost touch with honesty, like a traveler losing their way in a dense forest. He rose to prominence, his greatness built on a foundation of deception, like a castle constructed on shifting sands. People called him "Lai, the Great Deceiver," their voices a mix of awe and trepidation. His name became synonymous with lies, his reputation preceding him like a herald.

Yet, despite the warnings and cautionary tales, many still believed his lies, entranced by his silver tongue, like bees drawn to

Once upon a time, in a bustling city, there was a massive traffic jam that brought the entire city to a standstill. It was a hot summer day, and the sun beat down on the cars, making the air thick and heavy with frustration.

The traffic jam had started with a simple fender bender, but as more and more people tried to maneuver around the accident, the streets became clogged with cars. Horns blared, tempers flared, and people leaned on their steering wheels in exasperation.

Among the many cars stuck in the jam was a young woman named Sarah. She was on her way to an important job interview, and she had left early to make sure she arrived on time. But now, as she sat in her car, surrounded by honking vehicles and frustrated drivers, she felt her chances slipping away.

As the minutes turned into hours, Sarah watched as people in nearby cars got out to stretch their legs, talk to each other, and even share snacks. She decided to do the same and struck up a conversation with the driver in the car next to hers. They laughed about the absurdity of the situation and exchanged stories about their lives.

Eventually, the traffic began to move again, and Sarah arrived at her interview much later than planned. But as she walked into the office, she found herself feeling surprisingly calm and collected. She was able to share her experience in the traffic jam with her potential employer, who was impressed by her ability to stay composed in difficult situations.

To Sarah's surprise, she was offered the job on the spot. The traffic jam had taught her an important lesson about staying patient and adaptable in the face of unexpected challenges. And as she drove home that day, she couldn't help but feel grateful for the unusual turn of events that had led to her new job and a newfound sense of resilience.

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!

My room has been smelling so awful for the past three days now but the smell became so strong this night.

I couldn't hold it any longer as I put on my phone torchlight and started searching my room for the dead rat that might have died without me knowing.

I searched under my bed but it was clear; the only things I saw were the mirinda empty can and biscuit wrap I had eaten earlier and the body lotion I had been searching for before I got a new one. I wasn't that much of a cream fan; I hated applying body lotions so most times I end up getting new ones since I had mistakenly misplaced the old ones.

I continued searching but couldn't place my hands on what had such an offensive smell.

I checked my dirty clothes in the basket to be sure the smell wasn't coming from there but as I doubted, it wasn't it.

I couldn't bare it any longer so I left my room hoping to continue the search the next day.

"Mum, I'm sleeping with you in your room today oh.
I think a rat died in my room and I can't even find it" I said loudly as I entered her room.

My mum was in the kitchen preparing dinner.

I entered her room but the smell was stronger there.
I couldn't even stay long in the room before I rusher out from it heading to meet my mum.

"What is happening, mum?...Everywhere is just smelling bad" I said to her feeling irritated.

"Sorry dear, the meat I brought got decayed. I had to throw them away into the waste bin outside.
I guess that's what has been smelling" she said.

"I thought as much," I said as I went out to look at the meat in the waste bin.

In the waste bin was a big asepa nylon bag nearly knotted.
I opened it and couldn't believe my eyes at what I saw;

It was my mum!

Just immediately, I heard the woman start laughing hysterically as she walked out slowly with a kn!fe in her hand.

Watch out for part two

Today, I was honored to close our church service with a prayer. But as I began to speak, something unexpected happened. Instead of using English like I usually do, I felt a strong desire to pray in my native language. It was a language I grew up speaking at home, but somehow, it felt foreign on my lips.

When I struggled to find the right words, I realized how rusty I had become. My mind went blank, and my tongue stumbled over the familiar sounds. It was like trying to ride a bike after years of not using it - the memory was there, but the muscles had forgotten.

Finally, I managed to finish the prayer, relieved that the ordeal was over. But to my surprise, two people approached me, curious about why I chose to pray in my native language. I was taken aback - wasn't this our language, the one we spoke at home and in our community?

Their questions made me realize how much Western education had influenced us. We had been taught to prioritize English, to see it as the language of progress and sophistication. Our own language, the one that was once so dear to us, had become secondary, a relic of our past.

I felt sad thinking about how we had abandoned our language, our culture, in pursuit of modernity. We had been made to believe that our language was inferior, that it wasn't good enough for formal settings like church.

But today, as I struggled to pray in my native language, I realized that it was still a part of me, deep in my soul. It was a connection to my roots, my family, and my community. And I knew that I wasn't alone - many of us still spoke our language at home, still cherished it in our hearts.

From now on, I've made a promise to myself to use my native language more often, especially in settings like church where it matters most. It may feel uncomfortable at first, but I know that it's a vital part of who I am, and it's worth fighting for.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

In the bustling streets of Lagos, Nigeria, a silent enemy lurked, threatening to suffocate the dreams and aspirations of its citizens. This enemy was Average, a force that had seeped into the minds and hearts of many, whispering sweet nothings of "good enough" and "why bother." It had become the norm to settle for mediocrity, to accept the status quo, and to shy away from excellence.

But there were those who refused to be held captive by Average. Young entrepreneurs like Tunde, who against all odds, started his own tech company, creating jobs and innovating solutions. Artists like Nneka, who used her brush to tell the stories of a resilient people, inspiring hope and pride. And activists like Chinedu, who fought tirelessly for justice and equality, refusing to accept the average treatment of his community.

Together, they formed a movement, a revolution against Average. They inspired others to join, to strive for greatness, and to never settle for anything less. And slowly but surely, the enemy called Average began to lose its grip on the city, as the people of Lagos rose up, determined to be exceptional, to be remarkable, and to be unforgettable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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