Dave and Clara have been married for more than nine years without children. They stayed with each other and hoped that they will have children before their 10th year of marriage anniversary because they were being persuaded by families and friends to get a divorce, but they couldn’t let go because of their love for each other.

Months came and passed. Dave was returning from work one fateful day, he 
saw his wife walking down the road with a man and they looked happy together.

On another occasion, while Dave was coming back from work that evening, he saw that same man drop her off at the house. Dave became angry, jealous and 

Three days later, after a long day at work, Dave was taking water with a glass jug when his wife's phone rang. He Just picked it up and the person said ‘hello my dear, I’ll be coming to the house this evening to see you as promised. I hope 
your...’’ and just then, Dave hung up the phone.

It was a man's voice. He was sure the person must be that man he had been 
seeing with his wife lately. He suddenly became shaky with plenty thought, ‘’Have i really lost my wife to another man?’’ and at that point, the glass of water fell off from his hand and shattered into pieces.

Then Clara came running towards her husband, asking, ‘’Is everything okay 
darling?’’ In anger he gave his wife a hard push and she fell down. She wasn’t moving or getting up because she hit her head hard on the floor.

complete story here

How I Lost My Wife To Another Man

How to Submit Your Short Stories
Some writing contests, anthologies, or publications may have specific submission guidelines or themes that writers find interesting or challenging. Selling a short story to meet these requirements can be a way to participate in such opportunities.

One thing you will want to particularly note is that most websites have rules about whether they will accept stories published in other publications before or not. Some publications want the first rights to your story, and some will accept stories you have published before. 

Below are some publications that pay you for writing and submitting short stories and poetry:

1. The Threepenny Review

The Threepenny Review is a literary magazine that generally publishes essays, fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoirs and more.

They have various word count preferences for each of the type of stories they choose to publish, but they do pay for pieces they publish.

On the higher end, they can pay $400 pier piece, and for shorter ones (such as poems) $200.

2. Poets & Writers

Poets & Writers have a few various ways to help writers make money.

One option is to pitch directly to the magazine, which you can do through their submission guidelines page.

After that, they also have a subscription you can join to keep on top of various short shorty contests and other opportunities for other paid writing gigs.

3. One Story

If you are looking to publish a short story, you have probably come across One Story as an option.

They only have a short window of time where they accept submissions, but they do pay $500 for 25 contributors copies.

Check out their submission page to stay on top of when the next opening is happening.

See full list here>>

Here Is A List Of 6 Places To Submit Your Short Stories And Get Paid

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Entertainment Practitioners; As They Are. 

__By Seiyefa John✍️🎬 

After taking time to understudy the various types or genres of entertainment, I can boldly say that, actors, musicians and comedians go through little or no work to have their tasks executed. 

Please let me land,

Footballers devote themselves through hours and hours of rigorous training to be their best for the match in the pitch. 

Boxers spend abnormal hours hitting, spying, and undergoing some forms of trainings that only their body system(s) can relate; to be ready for their opponent in the ring. 

Runners are not left out, there are trainings that runners undergo, if you are told, you will not believe it. That is why they are flexible and agile on track. 

Swimmers do not just stand up and dive into the pool to compete. Before any competition, swimmers go through both mental, psychological and physical trainings to get them prepared for the swim.

Now, what about actors, comedians and musicians? 

Musicians, few musicians actually train their voice(s), keep to diet, embark on regular physical exercises to keep their bodies, vocals and mind sharp. There is another class of musicians; who smoke their lung out and just step into the vocal booth to record. They are the ones I am referring to as lesser effort investors. 

Actors, disciplined actors actually read their scripts, pay their dues and rehearse before any shoot. But there are those under the category of indisciplined actors; who don't open their scripts at home. They wait for production, then you will find them reading and mixing up their lines on set while shoot is ongoing. 

Comedians get inspiration for free, they take little or no time to rehears, many of them smoke and drink before gracing the stage to perform. This is the only effort comedians put in to enhance their craft. 

In a nut shell, I say, na actors, musicians and comedians wey de do lesser prepareation. All other entertainment practitioners they work hard for their success pass the other three.

Entertainment Practitioners; As They Are.   __by Seiyefa John✍️�

Episode 1
Kiki:

"Eri pass me my bag." I yelled over the loud music that was banging in the next room which happens to be a clubhouse.

"Learn to say 'please' and 'thank you' B." Erica said firmly lifting the bag above arms reach as I tried to snatch it from her.

Erica is my best friend and colleague. We met two years ago when I started working here at the club and she's been more than a sister to me. She can be loud and annoying sometimes too.

"Well duh!" I replied with an eye roll as I opened the bag and took out my cologne spraying it on my clothes and hair. ( I mean crazy lingeries, thigh high stockings and six inch heels only.😀)

"Ladies, time to get a move on." Our manager said as the door opened and he poked his head in.

"Yes sir!" Erica yelled as the sound of the music grew louder, thanks to the open door.

We both took a final look in the mirror admiring our makeup before walking out dramatically into the main hall of the clubhouse. Let's get this party started.

Allow me to formally introduce myself. I'm Kiara AKA Kiki. I'm 24, working as a stripper on Tuesdays and Fridays at a strip club called 'Chutzpah' in Florida while my family are in The NOLA that's New Orleans, Louisiana.

I'm lightskinned, slim thick with killer curves and hey, I've got a pretty face too. Don't got no boyfriend or lover and I don't sleep around either. Crazy but it's true! I don't want any emotional nonsense to tie me down and I don't also want a baby or an STD.

My dad and mum got divorced right from when I was a kid. Also, I've been the one taking care of my mum and younger sister Amy for years now ever since my mum got into an accident which landed her in a wheelchair making it impossible for her to work and fend for us.

I had to drop out of school and start hustling to pay the bills, get us fed and send Amy to college. That's why I started dancing for dollars.

My dad had abandoned us after the divorce and we haven't heard from him since then.

***
We got on stage and hit the pole as usual doing what we know how to do best.

Everyone's attention was on us as we danced like we were in a Nicki Minaj video shoot.

I could see some gangsters in the VIP section and I got over there twerking and giving them a tease while they kept slapping my big butts and throwing money in the air which I didn't hesitate to pick up.

After I was done for the night, we returned backstage to our dressing room laughing loudly and excitedly about the money in our palms. The next set of girls were already dressed and waiting for us to finish up on stage so they could get up there.

"Dollar bills is my sons." Erica sang as she fanned herself with the money in her hand.

"Say that twice b." I concurred with a chuckle and slumped into a chair taking out some wipes to erase all traces of the heavy makeup I was wearing while Erica kept blabbing about one thing or the other.

In a matter of minutes, we were done changing up and ready to go home. I felt this crazy urge to drink some ice cold water as I was so parched and thus, decided to get into the club and find myself some water to drink.

Having said goodbye to Eri who's boyfriend was already outside waiting to pick her up, I walked back into the club and straight to the bar.

"Hey K!" Chris the barman hollered as I got to the bar.

"Good evening Chrissy. Can I have some water?" I yelled back over the loud music.

"Sure thang chicken" He said and filled a glass with the chilled clear liquid and I received it flicking him a smile as I took it all down in a single gulp.

"Thanks Chrissy." I spoke smiling broadly as I passed him the now empty glass.

"You was hot tonight." He Commented collecting it from my hand with a grin. Well, duhh!

"You worked some magic up the pole tonight babe. I must say you got some moves." A deep and sweet voice like none I've ever heard said beside me and I quickly turned to see who it was.

"Are you talking to me?" I asked after drooling over him for a quick minute. Believe me, I'm staring at a really pretty boy right now. No cap!
Black skin, strong muscular arms and with the way the blue lights in the club shone on his face, you'd think he's got diamonds in his eyes. Dang!

"Yeah. You're one of the dancers from earlier ain't you?" He added and I smiled sheepishly.

"Yeah sure. Name's Kiara but you can call me...

"Kiki." He cut me off and concluded my sentence for me with a wide smile as we shook hands. His hands were soft and smooth like a baby's. Even with the blue lights in the club, I could still make out his perfect lips which looked so soft and kissable.

He introduced himself to me as Dwayne and happens to be new in town.

After we talked for a while, it was time for me to say goodbye and be on my way as I was really tired and had to go catch some sleep.

***

Outside the Club...

I adjusted the straps of my hand bag properly on my shoulder as I walked towards my car in the poorly lit parking lot walking past a drunk couple who were busy making out with each other.

"Hey stripper, mind if I get with you?" One of two guys who were resting on the hood of one of the cars smoking a blunt said. I ignored him making to walk past them but the second one grabbed my wrist and tried to pull me back.

I reached for the pepper spray which was in the pocket of my sweatpants and wasted no time in spraying it all over their faces. They screamed in pain and let me go holding their faces and trying to get away. Psychos!

Well, I'm a stripper who dances with little or no clothes on. Hazards of the job include harassment and assaults of all sorts that's why I have my pepper spray, my pocket knife and my gun all for self defense.

"Bravo K-doll." Someone said from behind me clapping continously.

"Why are you following me Dwayne? Are you a stalker?" I asked in a sassy voice as I realized that it was the same guy from earlier.

"Nah, not at all. I just came out with the hopes of finding you out here and getting your number." He explained. I turned round and strutted away shaking my head disappointedly with him following behind. He's prolly checking my back side out. All these boys wanna do is get with me.

"Come again to Chutzpah on Friday. I'll give you a good show instead. And if I like you enough, I can treat you to some free booze." I told him as I started up my car driving out of the parking lot while he stood there waving at me. Duh!

*****

"Well you shoulda seen him, he was like, so hot." I said with a shrug as me and Erica walked along the hallways of the supermarket pushing our cart which was full of stuff along. I was actually telling her about Dwayne who I met the other day at the club.

"I'm praying he comes around tomorrow, I can't wait to feed my eyes." Erica whispered in my ear and we both burst out laughing.

"Kiki!" I heard a familiar voice resound in the distance and I stopped laughing and turned round to confirm.

"It's him." I told Erica as I turned to see him waving and smiling at me.

"Him who?" Erica asked sounding ridiculous and turned round also scanning the halls.

"Dwayne, the guy I've been talking about." I whisper yelled to prevent him from hearing me as he walked towards us.

"He came as advertised." Erica said jokingly after the introductions ignoring the fact that I was furrowing my brows at her in embarrassment as she pushed the cart towards the payment desk leaving me alone with Dwayne.

"You been talking about me?" Dwayne asked with a smirk playing on his face.

"Not exactly. Erica says a lot of crazy stuff sometimes." I answered with an eye roll and he burst out laughing knowing that I was telling a blatant lie. Whatever!

"Why do you keep popping up everywhere I am?" I asked pretending to be annoyed with him.

"Chill Ki, it's a big fat coincidence that I happen to be in the same store at the same time with you." He said amidst loud laughter and I tightened up my face in a frown. I'm sure I looked like an angry emoji or something.

"Keep laughing. Guess I look like an ugly fat clown to you." I said sarcastically maintaining a straight face while he kept laughing.

"Hope your offer still stands?" He asked after he'd stopped laughing.

"I change my mind easily Dwayne." I said sounding serious. By now, Erica was done with making payments for the stuff we bought and returned to where we were.

"Time to get a move on B." Erica joked as she got to our position.

"A phone number wouldn't hurt." Dwayne spoke pleadingly referring to me. Before I could say anything in response, Erica collected the phone from him and inputted a number. Remind me to kill her if she dares give him my number.

"Thank you my lady." He said kissing her palm.

"See, that was just like clockwork; simple and sweet. Bye dolls!" He said shooting me a little wink before turning round and walking towards the payment desk.
"Such a sexy stud." I thought biting my lower lip.

"To earth Kiki!" Erica screamed in my ear as I was lost staring at Dwayne's retreating figure.

"You like him don'tcha?" Erica taunted and I rolled my eyes turning round heading towards the exit.

"Oh, I hit a nerve." Erica continued running after me with the shopping bags in both hands.

"Why'd you give him my number anyway?" I asked as we got inside the car.

"Who said I gave him your number?" She responded with a sly smile.

"I gave him my ex's number." She added sticking her tongue out like she was Megan thee Stallion and we both burst out laughing as I started the car driving out of the car lot. Erica is one crazy Chick.

Read Episode 2 Here>>

When I Fell In Love

I have heard a saying that you only get one shot at life, I thinks it’s the same with love, once it’s lost, it’s gone forever. Because that would be the only explanation as to why I don’t think I will be able to love again or maybe it’s my mindset cos whenever I think of falling in love again I realize that I don’t ever want to be in love with anyone but you.

It seemed fate didn’t want me to wait till next time because few seconds after you left I saw that you had left your key on the counter, it was a single key and had no key holder. I saw another opportunity to talk to you and I took it, I searched for a key holder I had kept away, after a long search I found it, took your key and ran out to search for you. Luckily for me you had discovered you left your key behind because I saw you few steps away from the shop walking back. I walked up to you and showed you your key, you collected it from me and said thanks. Then I told you to get a key holder for the key so you won’t lose it again, you nodded and said okay. You turned to walk away but I stopped you when I said, “Lucky for you I have a key holder for you”.
You asked me why I would give you a key holder when I barely knew you and I told you that maybe it’s my way of trying to be friends with you thereby knowing you. Then you told me that I was better off not knowing you, maybe I should have listened to you then but instead I said “Too late I’m already interested in you”. I could swear that for a split second I saw you blush but you were quick to mask it with your ‘I don’t care' look.
You gave me back your key so I can fix the key holder to it, as I was fixing it I saw you smile and I asked why you were smiling you said that you were only wondering why a big boy like me will have a teddy bear key holder. I smiled and stared at the key holder which was a small teddy bear with a holder then I told you that the key holder was a souvenir from one of the goods my mom bought for the shop and I had kept it away since I had no use for it, I only remembered to bring it out today because I wanted to help a damsel in distress, you laughed and I was glad I made you laugh.

Let's Talk About You

EDGE OF SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Russian Roulette

As Neon carefully ascended the stairs,he glared around the dimly lit white painted balcony and then at the large frames hung on the pathway wall. He continued to read each tag on each of the room doors on a slow pace,trying to authenticate room 102 deluxe. 

He took few steps further till he arrived at the wanted door. He quickly unwrapped a piece of paper he had with him again to confirm the room number written on it. 

Mrs Jessica Mide was in a white towel when a knock dropped on the room's door," Who is it?" She asked. 

"Room service. "Neon replied in an abnormal deeper tone. 

"Hold on I will be right there. "Jessica Mide approached the door. She then unlocked the door. 

The door swung open and Neon walked into the room. 

"Neon?" Mr Jessica Mide stuttered at the sight of his son," What in Gods name are you doing here?"

Neon kept his cool as he calmly glared around the room in a circle. He finally approached the bed and then sat on the bed. 

"H- h - how did you find me,Neon?" Jessica stuttered continuously,until a male voice of a aged man emerged from the bathroom.

"Honey who is it?" Uncle Frank called. 

"Ermm! It's t - t - the room service man,ermm no I mean m - m- m - my s- s- s- son. " She fidgeted continuously. 

"What's wrong? Why are you stuttering non stop like you've seen a ghost?" Uncle Frank asked as he unhinged the bathroom's door handle. 

Who is this young man right here,and what does he want?" Uncle Frank quizzed. 

Neon turned with a jolt," I know this face. For seventeen years of my life I have always dreamt of meeting this face. The same man in my dream. " Neon laughed out loudly. 

"Jessica,who is this young man?" Uncle Frank fired. 

"H-h-he's my son. "She quivered.

Edge Of Seventeen Chapter Eleven : Russian Roulette

Without waiting for my response, she proceeded to the fridge and brought out a bottle of juice with two cups. As we drank on, she began to show me some new arrivals in her store. Just when I was engrossed by the sight of the beautiful goods, a call came in on my phone. I checked the caller it was Tutu. 
“Hello Tutu!” 
She began to whine. 
“Lola where are you now, have been at home waiting for you” 
“Really?” I chuckled. “Tutu you always left me alone in that house for days and I have never complained, you have only stayed for few minutes........” Tutu interrupted. 
“You know I always miss you more, just come back already.” “Alright, I'll join you soon.” I hung up. 
Soon enough, Aunty Ella saw me off, then I picked a cab and headed home. 
A shopping bag was lying on the rug. Tutu handed over to me the fashion accessories she got for me, which I barely checked. I have turned down her gifts about couple of times, which she really felt bad about, so to avoid unnecessary misunderstanding, I always accepted whatever gift she bought for me. 
“So, how was the interview?” she asked. 
“I did my best, just hope it doesn't end up like every others.” I spoke reluctantly. 
“C'mon Lola, I know it is not easy, but just try to be positive.” I nodded, then began to check through the fashion accessories. 

“Oh my God!” 
“What is it?” I asked curiously. 
She whispered to me “look that way.” 
Pointing carefully to a particular direction. I turned to look, but still couldn't understand her. 
“I can't see anything.” I responded. 
She whispered again. “That guy on white shirt.” 
“Yes, I can see him, ...........so what?” “Don't you know him?” 
I shook my head. “I don't know him.” 
Tutu spoke with a lower tone. 
“That's Dapo-Davies, a very famous multimillionaire business magnate.” She paused a moment. “Do you remember that magazine I bought of recent?” 
I nodded. “Yes, I do.” 
“That guy is the face on the cover page.” 
I took a proper look at him. “Oh, that's true.” I admitted. 
“Anyways, that isn’t why we are here.” I spoke dismissively. 
As we were approaching the counter, a male voice interrupted us from behind. 

.................. to be continued

For more of the story go to
FACEBOOK @ D GOOD STORY TV.

In Between  3

What do you call this life? 
It is hard to live
It is hard to breathe
I am totally exhausted. 
They tell you to look at other people's illness that is far worse than yours to console yourself. 
Too many toxic people around
Toxic people thinking that they are strong while you are weak and cursed for being sick. 
I am exhausted
I am burned out
Happiness as been drained from me. 
I am out of tears
Can't commit suicide because I am a coward
Can't commit suicide because of the hurt my siblings will go through. 
I am stuck 
Everybody is fighting their own battle, no one cares. 
I am weak 
I heard humans are created on earth to worship God. 
Can't we worship God in heaven? 
Must we be in this hurtful, sickful, decaying human bodies?
And some say we are above the angels 
I say the angels are lucky because they are not subject to poverty, hurt, sickness, pain that the human body and world brings.
What is the advantage of being human? 
It is so painful
I am not where I should be. 
I take solace in my fantasy, fantasizing about how healthy, well doing my family is. 
How I provided for my family. 
How life was great for me
It was as if I was high on hopium 
But I was not 
Some say I am ungrateful for not appreciating God 
I say God shouldn't have left me 
He shouldn't have avoided me
If it was my sins, can't He forgive me? 
I just want a painless death. 
No one to talk to
They only tell you to trust in God 
But God is not forthcoming
He doesn't talk to me. 
He laughs at my woes. 
He drinks my tears 
Am in pain

Suicide Weds Coward

A Short Moral Story; The Sluggish Girl:

A little girl was carrying a heavy bucket on her head. She walked very slowly and very calmly down the busy road. She minded her own business and focused on her destination.

Everyone wondered why she walked so slowly. The people behind her were going so fast that they passed her. The children returning from the stream with buckets on their heads had all passed her. Some of the children laughed and mocked her for being too slow. One of them said,

"Do you know what time it is, lazybones? You're so slow and sluggish! I wonder how long it will take before you reach your home."

However, the girl was apparently unconcerned about what the children said and she kept walking home. A short while later, two women saw her and started teasing her,

"Didn't your mother teach you the importance of hardwork? Just a small bucket of water, yet you move like a sloth. Why can't you walk just as fast as the other children who are also returning from the stream? Some of them carry buckets heavier than yours. You're so slow!"

Upon hearing that, the young girl remained silent and paid attention to her journey. However, she hadn't gone far when an old man stopped her and said hastily,

"Hey, hurry! Don't let those children walk faster than you. You all carry the same size of buckets. You should compete with them and make sure you get home before them. Be fast!"

The girl smiled faintly at the old man, but said nothing and kept on walking. The old man stood for a while, wondering what that odd behaviour could mean. Meanwhile, as the girl walked along the road, she kept hearing people talking and screaming at her,

"Run, run, run as fast as you can! The other children are far ahead of you. You don't want to let them reach home before you. Hurry up!"

But regardless of what people said, the young girl was indifferent to everyone and continued crawling along. Then, suddenly, an old woman approached her and asked in a calm tone,

"Young girl, why do you walk so slowly? Is your bucket of water that heavy? The other children are way ahead of you..."

The girl paused for a moment, then with a gentle smile on her face, she whispered surprisingly,

"What I carry on my head is not water. They are eggs, a bunch of eggs. I can't walk as fast as those children who are carrying water. The road is bad, although if they fall, their water spills, but if I fall, my eggs break. A bunch of eggs is worth more than a bucket of water. I can't compete with them because we do not carry the same load. That's how life is; we always feel the need to compete with another person without realizing that we carry different loads and we have different dreams and ambitions. Some paths are rather meant to be walked on slowly. Instead of playing to win, I'm playing not to lose. As long as I'll reach home with all my eggs intact, I don't care how many children are ahead of me."

Moral Lesson: Don't compete with anyone. Just focus on your journey and keep moving. The load you carry is different from that of others.

#EdetEdemAkpan

The Sluggish Girl

I jolted awake, my eyes went straight to the clock, it was 2.15 pm. 
“Oh my God, I totally drifted off” I mumbled. 

I leaned my head against the back of the sofa, as the thought of the just concluded job interview ran through my mind. In few minutes, I heard the sound of the gate thrown open. I peeped through the window, then saw Sharon hurrying towards our apartment. Before I could reach for the door, she rapped on it, afterwards I opened. Her face lit up with radiance. “Hi Lola” she said. 
“Hello Sharon!” 
Is Tutu home?” She asked. 
“No, she isn't” I replied. 
“Damn!................................ I thought she would be back by now” sounding quite disappointed. “Ok, let me drop this for her.” 

“How expensive they looked” a little voice said inside of me. 
She handed the envelope to me. 
“Please give her this money when she comes back, I won't be able to wait for her, I am in a hurry to somewhere.” 
I collected the envelope. 
“Thank you” she said and made her way to the gate. 

I shut the door and dropped the envelope on the table, then settled back on the sofa. 
The Tutu I knew never gallivanted around different men. But she never hid the fact that she had a sponsor (sugar - daddy), which was Michael. 

N-BETWEEN (D LOVE STORY)2
The Tutu I knew never gallivanted around different men. But she never hid the fact that she had a sponsor (sugar - daddy), which was Michael. 
Michael was so addicted to Tutu that he never for once replaced her as his mistress. At the other hand, Tutu really knew how to play her game, as she only stuck to Michael. But always solicited for (clients) different well-to-do men for both Sharon and Mimi. 
Sharon and Mimi were high-toned call-girls, of course they were both obligated to pay Tutu her own share after every hook-up deal. Despite that I always discouraged Tutu, I still couldn’t deny the fact that she made an average living from her lifestyle. 
I reached for my handbag, and brought out my phone. I have missed three calls already. 
“Oh, it's aunty Ella” I murmured. 
Aunty Ella was a friend and a big sister to Tutu and I, she loved to always have us around her, especially me. I knew she wanted to ask me about the job interview, but since I was bored, I decided to go and see her. I grabbed my handbag and made my way to the door. 
At aunty Ella's store, I sat with my legs popped up on the sofa. After giving her a feedback on how the job interview went, she persuaded me. “Lola, I know it is not easy, especially after several job interviews, but please, try to cheer up” 
I nodded with a faint smile. 
“Let me send one of my staffs to get us lunch” she suggested. 
I shook my head. “No aunty Ella, I just do not have the appetite to eat” 
I responded. 
“Ok, at least you will take some juice.” 
Without waiting for my response, she proceeded to the fridge and brought out a bottle of juice with two cups. As we drank on, she began to show me some new arrivals in her store. Just when I was engrossed by the sight of the beautiful goods, a call came in on my phone.......
TO BE CONTINUED........

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In-between 2

Seeds possess an extraordinary power that surpasses their small size and unassuming appearance. Whether in nature or in our personal lives, the act of sowing seeds represents the potential for growth, abundance, and transformation. This article examines the profound lessons we can learn from the power of seeds and how it relates to cultivating success and fulfillment in life.

Planting Seeds of Purpose: Similar to a farmer carefully selecting and planting seeds to yield a bountiful harvest, we can sow seeds of purpose in our lives. These purposeful seeds encompass our dreams, goals, and aspirations. By planting seeds of purpose, we commit to nurturing and cultivating them with passion and dedication. These seeds serve as the driving force behind our motivation, guiding our actions, and providing direction on our life's journey.

Nurturing Seeds of Resilience: Seeds face various challenges as they sprout and grow, such as unfavorable weather, pests, and competition for resources. Likewise, in life, we encounter obstacles, setbacks, and difficulties. By nurturing seeds of resilience, we develop the strength and perseverance to overcome challenges and thrive in adversity. Resilience empowers us to bounce back from failures, learn from experiences, and continue moving forward towards our goals.

Harvesting Seeds of Knowledge: Seeds symbolize the potential for learning and personal development. Just as a seed contains the blueprint for a mature plant, pursuing knowledge and skills enables us to unlock our full potential. By planting seeds of knowledge through education, exploration, and continuous learning, we expand our horizons, broaden our perspectives, and enrich our lives. The fruits of knowledge empower us to make informed decisions, solve problems, and seize opportunities.

Sowing Seeds of Relationships: Healthy and nurturing relationships are seeds that cultivate happiness, fulfillment, and emotional well-being. Similar to how plants thrive in fertile soil, strong relationships flourish in an environment of trust, respect, and mutual support. By sowing seeds of empathy, kindness, and connection, we cultivate meaningful relationships that enhance our lives and contribute to our overall happiness and success.

Reaping the Fruits of Action: Ultimately, the power of seeds is realized through intentional action and consistent effort. Simply sowing seeds is insufficient; we must actively nurture and cultivate them to fruition. By taking purposeful steps towards our goals, making wise choices, and embracing growth opportunities, we set ourselves up for success and fulfillment.

Embracing the Natural Process of Growth and Transformation:
The journey of a seed, from planting to germination, growth, and fruition, beautifully mirrors the cycle of personal growth and transformation in our lives. By embracing the inherent power of a seed, we open ourselves to the natural process of growth, change, and renewal. It is through patience, perseverance, and faith in our own potential that we can truly flourish.

In essence, the power of a seed serves as a profound metaphor for personal development, resilience, and success in life. By consciously sowing the seeds of purpose, resilience, knowledge, relationships, and action, we can cultivate a life filled with abundance, fulfillment, and meaningful achievements. It is imperative that we wholeheartedly embrace the transformative power of a seed, nurturing the seeds of greatness within ourselves. With unwavering dedication and perseverance, we have the ability to cultivate a life that bears rich and abundant fruits.

Through this process, we come to understand that personal growth is not a linear journey but rather a cyclical one. Just as a seed experiences dormancy, challenges, and setbacks before it sprouts and blossoms into a plant, we too encounter obstacles and hardships along our path. However, it is through these challenges that we find the strength to overcome, adapt, and thrive. Embracing the natural process of growth and transformation allows us to harness our inner potential, enabling us to navigate life's ups and downs with grace and resilience.

Ultimately, by embracing the natural process of growth and transformation, we unlock the true essence of personal development and success. It is not about attaining instant gratification or seeking shortcuts but rather about embracing the journey itself. Just as a seed requires time, nourishment, and care to reach its full potential, so do we. It is through this patient and intentional cultivation of our own growth that we can truly flourish, reaching new heights and achieving our most cherished aspirations.

So let us wholeheartedly embrace the power of the seed and the profound wisdom it imparts. Let us recognize that personal development and success are not merely destinations but ongoing processes of growth, change, and renewal. By aligning ourselves with this natural cycle, we can embrace the transformative power within us and cultivate a life that is abundant, fulfilling, and overflowing with meaningful achievements.

@AbiodunMabadeje
#Abbeylosophy

NB: Follow me on YouTube @abbeylosophy for more inspirational, motivational and life-lesson teaching videos (Shorts and full videos)

Cultivating Success And Growth In Life

On1e day, YOLA’s mother called YOLA and said, YOLA ! since You can’t get married to three men, YOU need to pick one from the three suitors, so that you could get married on time.
She told YOLA to take her time, before she made her choice.
The next day, YOLA invited JAMA THE BRAVE HUNTER and asked him, JAMA ! how much do you love me ? JAMA held YOLA’s face closely and replied her YOLA I love you so much that I can do anything for YOU.
The second day, YOLA invited RUME the FARMAR, she asked HIM, RUME ! how much do you love me ? RUME held YOLA’S two hands and replied, YOLA I love YOU so much that I can do anything for YOU.
The third day, YOLA invited BUJU the STRONG WARRIOR and asked him, BUJU ! how much do you Love me ?
BUJU held YOLA closely and told her YOLA! I Love you so much,that I can do anything for YOU. 
Now, YOLA was so worried, she couldn’t choose any one amongst JAMA, RUME AND BUJU, because she didn’t know who loved her most.

Then YOLA'S MOTHER came up with a plan.
Not too long YOLA took ill, she had so much rashes all over her face and body. Then the news got to the three men that YOLA was sick.

D African Love Story 2

95% of today's successful men in all fields of life; were servants yesterday to others. Often time(s) tomorrow successors (are very quiet today growing with steam, but humble and patient enough to be consistent in their practice as they confidently wait for their time and turn), if you doubt me, go ask ASAKE. 

There are too many lunatics, too many imbeciles and too much poverty in Warri (Delta State) Nigeria.

Hunger can shrink one's joy for the service of Jesus.

Many people go to Church today to find motivation and inspiration, they are not there for the gospel or God's Kingdom. They attend service to mingle, interact and find solace from this bitter system of governance. Without the Churches many Nigerians would've been totally cruched emotionally and psychologically.

Maturity can literally blind a grown up; maturity can blind him/her from seeing the beauty of trends. All that most mature pair of eyes can behold is responsibities.

If we involve God in our affairs, he will feel involved enough to react in our favour. Don't isolate God from your affairs. 

If you can't ask from God, be ready to ask from men. It is either God or man. 

If you can't ask God for help, you will certainly ask men for help. It is either God or man. 

A believer that cannot FAST and PRAY, will be PLAYED and PREYED on by amateur demons. 

God's relationship with us is that of a father to children, friend to friend kind. If his affair with us were to be like that of a general and his soldiers; where he will be commanding us to obey his orders (as master do their slaves). We for de serve am in spirit and in truth without excuse(s).

A faithful and fervent believer is (normally) more disciplined and steadfast than a military officer. 

Slow success develops character, while fast success builds ego. 

Invincible, yet accessible. 

He said to me tonight, son "I am invincible, yet accessible." I mean God our father. 

Nigeria is a captive in captivity, captured by her captors. 

Reality is not magical or illusory, it is what we know will happen (...outcome well anticipated). But I wonder why we look and act surprised when we realize the outcome of reality in our lives and society. 

All quotes written by Seiyefa John✍️🎬

Quotes By Seiyefa John✍️� 1

In the realm of digital marketing, content is the fuel that drives engagement, fosters relationships, and ultimately leads to conversions. However, many businesses, especially smaller ones, struggle to allocate sufficient resources to their content marketing efforts due to budget constraints. This is where affordable content marketing packages can be a game-changer, providing businesses with cost-effective solutions to enhance their online presence and reach their target audience effectively. Let's explore the significance of affordable content marketing packages and how they can benefit businesses of all sizes.

Understanding Affordable Content Marketing Packages:

Affordable content marketing packages are structured bundles of services offered by marketing agencies or freelancers at competitive prices. These packages are designed to cater to businesses with limited budgets while still delivering impactful content marketing strategies. They encompass a range of services including content creation, distribution, optimization, and performance tracking, tailored to meet the specific needs and goals of the client.

Key Components of Affordable Content Marketing Packages:

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Benefits of Affordable Content Marketing Packages:

1. Cost-Effective Solutions: These packages offer cost savings compared to hiring in-house content teams or opting for individual marketing services. Businesses can get access to professional expertise within their budget constraints.

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4. Time-Saving: Outsourcing content marketing tasks to professionals allows businesses to focus on core operations and strategic initiatives. It eliminates the need for hiring and training internal resources.

5. Scalability: As businesses grow, these packages can be scaled up to accommodate increased content needs and expanded marketing efforts. This scalability ensures that the marketing strategies remain aligned with the business's growth trajectory.

Choosing the Right Affordable Content Marketing Package:

When considering affordable content marketing packages, businesses should evaluate several factors to ensure they choose the right one:

- Services Included: Review the scope of services included in the package and ensure it aligns with your content marketing goals.

- Expertise and Experience: Check the credentials, industry experience, and track record of the content marketing provider or agency.

- Client References: Request references or case studies to gauge the provider's success in delivering results for similar businesses.

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In conclusion, affordable content marketing packages offer businesses a strategic and budget-friendly approach to elevate their brand's online presence, engage their audience, and drive conversions. By leveraging professional expertise, businesses can create impactful content strategies that resonate with their target audience, enhance brand visibility, and ultimately contribute to business growth and success in the digital landscape.

Affordable Content Marketing Packages: Elevating Your Brand's Online Presence

Early Life and Educational Background

Hannatu Musawa was born on November 1, 1974 in Katsina State, Northern Nigeria. She is the daughter of Musa Musawa, a well-known Nigerian politician and activist. Musa Musawa is a member of the radical leftist First Republic Party, Northern Elements Progressive Union, and its successor in the Second Republic, People’s Redemption Party.

Hannatu Musa Musawa Biography 

She attended the University of Buckingham in the United Kingdom, where she earned her undergraduate degree in Law. To further her education, she then pursued two postgraduate Master’s degrees: one in Legal aspects of Marine Affairs from the University of Cardiff in Wales, and another in Oil & Gas from the University of Aberdeen.

She has used her legal knowledge and experience to advocate for human rights and social justice issues throughout her career.
Early Life and Educational Background
Hannatu Musawa was born on November 1, 1974 in Katsina State, Northern Nigeria. She is the daughter of Musa Musawa, a well-known Nigerian politician and activist. Musa Musawa is a member of the radical leftist First Republic Party, Northern Elements Progressive Union, and its successor in the Second Republic, People’s Redemption Party.

Read the full Musa musawa Biography 

Hannatu Musa Musawa Biography 

She attended the University of Buckingham in the United Kingdom, where she earned her undergraduate degree in Law. To further her education, she then pursued two postgraduate Master’s degrees: one in Legal aspects of Marine Affairs from the University of Cardiff in Wales, and another in Oil & Gas from the University of Aberdeen.

She has used her legal knowledge and experience to advocate for human rights and social justice issues throughout her career.
Read the full Musa musawa Biography

Hannatu Musa Musawa Biography, Early Life, Career And Personal Life

Monday morning opens door of a new session on a gleeful note for the excited mid-teen students. Pleasantries traded in hilarity swept through almost every classroom inch. It seemed freedom had begun heeding their entreaties. Stepping up to the next grade was a reminder of proximity to life without parental decrees. 

Miss Theresa Mayozi, garbed in her green-white-red polka-dotted gown accentuating a six-foot physique, took some minutes more to offload learning materials on the adjacent table. 

“Good day! Everyone,” she greeted. The students responded, unimpressed by her mid-thirties appealing youth while reaching for their desks. Silence, though skepticism-sodden, pervaded.

Their previous grade teacher shared similar features but teacher-student interface thereafter enlightened them appearance isn’t reality. Miss Patricia negated her humility and friendliness they surmised. Wearing a lukewarm mask in mingling with Miss Theresa was the consensus. 

“I am Miss Theresa Mayozi, your 10th grade teacher. I hope our academic journey together would be remarkable and memorable,” Miss Theresa introduced herself. Zest in her voice coincided with perplexity in her mind about lethargy of the students. She was, unknown to her, paying for another’s debt. 

Shaking the hurdle off, Miss Theresa proceeded to scribble “History” on the whiteboard. “What’s your understanding of this concept?” She u-turned, inquiring from her audience seated mute for ages. 

Thirty-two seconds passed. Finally, a hand rose to break the ice. Alvin, edified by those evening strolls alongside his ex-US army officer father with scars from Vietnam and Afghanistan, answered “History tells us about battles humans fought.” 

Following, Gabriella—orphaned at two and bred by her novel-loving maternal grandmother—conquered the warring nerves within to contribute, “History deals with stories told about yesterday." 

James, whose fleshy and rotund build earned him a “humpty-dumpty” nickname, added “History explains little we have on our plate today, because of much we didn’t prepare yesterday.” Knowledge of his marriage to food plunged other students into laughter. It overrode appreciation of metaphor permeating the answer, one sighted by Miss Theresa. She beamed a smile in gratitude for both the denotative attempt and comic relief. 

As Miss Theresa quoted G.W.F. Hegel—“We learn from history that we do not learn from history”—to synthesize the contributions and as a preamble to her definition, gunshot sounds thundered from outside. “Everybody on the floor now,” she bellowed to the terrified students, squatting her way to ensure closed windows for threat mitigation. 

The students drew her attention to Clara’s asthmatic crisis triggered by shock. She was breathing fast, gasping for air and slipping away. Miss Theresa’s experience from a stint in paramedics as a volunteer came in handy. She maintained calm and sought an inhaler from Clara’s multi-layered bag. Fear-laden screams from neighboring classrooms tensed the atmosphere further; varieties of causal speculations saturated.

“Hurry up, please,” Miley, Clara’s best friend, muttered in tears cascading down her cheeks. Finding the inhaler was relieving but its content insufficient. Clara planned to purchase a new one after school. The perturbed teacher resorted to mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, it worked, stability ensued Clara’s deep breath. 

Meanwhile, Gregory bled. Red droplets on the floor led to him. Miss Theresa raced to her handbag, reaching for a towel-like handkerchief to minimize the leak pending help’s arrival. 
Mr. Maxwell, the principal’s secretary, wafted in. “We are on top of the situation. Everyone calm down. You are now safe,” he informed them. Heaves of relief echoed. It dawned on the students their first school day in a new grade could have been their last. 

“Wait a minute, Maxwell,” disheveled Miss Theresa hurried to where he stood. Her enquiry about the pandemonium’s cause revealed an irate 9th grade student fired a two-round pistol at a fellow student—who fled and evaded burial with a leg bullet wound—and others within sight. Fortune was kind, the other bullet landed on a nearby wall before the student was besieged by security. “Nobody else was hurt,” he concluded.

Indeed, the high school did little in the preceding weeks to forestall this terror, given reports of pockets of fatal shooting in schools around the country. That was ample incentive to mount scanning devices at entry points or activate stronger security protocols. The management didn’t learn from history.

Forty minutes later, the principal, Dr. Catherine, toured classes, apologizing effusively and reassuring students of their safety. Miss Theresa’s students were particularly detailed, flooding the principal with tales of her proactive efforts when uncertainty stared. Again, their preconceptions were wrong.

©KON

Short Story: First School Day May Be The Last

SYNW COMMENDS, PAWA, DR. WALE OKEDIRAN FOR HOSTING WOW CONGRESS
The Society of Young Nigerian Writers (SYNW) has extended its congratulations to Dr. Wale Okediran, Secretary General of the Pan African Writers Association (PAWA), for the triumphant hosting of the World Organization of Writers (WOW) Congress. This landmark event, which convened writers from across the globe, took place in Abuja, Nigeria, from April 4th to 6th, 2024.
In a statement released by the president of the Society, Wole Adedoyin, from Ibadan on Monday, the SYNW expressed its admiration for Dr. Wale Okediran's outstanding leadership and organizational prowess in orchestrating such a significant gathering.
Held in the vibrant city of Abuja, the WOW Congress served as a testimony to Dr. Okediran's dedication to fostering international literary dialogue and collaboration. This momentous event brought together writers from across the globe, solidifying its place in history.
Dr. Wale Okediran's track record of promoting literary exchange extends beyond the WOW Congress. Notably, he played a pivotal role in organizing the International Writers Conference at the University of Ibadan from June 24 to 26, 2022. This conference, which attracted luminaries from various fields including writers, academicians, scholars, statesmen, and diplomats, showcased Dr. Okediran's commitment to creating platforms for intellectual discourse and cultural exchange.
The 2022 Writers Conference facilitated dialogue and networking among writers from over 40 African countries and the African diaspora. Representatives from Ghana, Congo Kinshasa, Togo, Nigeria, and numerous other nations converged in Abuja to celebrate the richness and diversity of global literature.
One of the remarkable aspects of the WOW Congress was its hybrid format, allowing participants to engage both physically and virtually. This innovative approach ensured inclusivity and accessibility, enabling writers from around the world to participate and contribute to the discourse on a global scale.
Throughout the Congress, participants engaged in stimulating discussions, shared insights, and forged connections that will undoubtedly shape the future of literature. Dr. Wale Okediran's visionary leadership was instrumental in creating a conducive environment for such fruitful exchanges to take place.
The SYNW commended Dr. Wale Okediran for his tireless dedication to advancing the cause of literature on a global stage. His passion for fostering cross-cultural understanding and collaboration serves as an inspiration to writers everywhere.

SYNW Commends PAWA, Dr. Wale Okediran For Hosting World Organisation Of Writers

In the vast tapestry of human experience, there are moments that shimmer with profound insight, moments that resonate deeply within us, moments that inspire and uplift our spirits. These moments, often fleeting and ephemeral, have the power to leave an indelible mark on our hearts and minds. Through the art of storytelling, we have the ability to capture and preserve these inspiring moments, immortalizing them in the timeless embrace of words.

At the heart of every personal narrative lies a journey – a journey of self-discovery, growth, and transformation. Through our words, we invite readers to embark on this journey with us, to witness the highs and lows, the triumphs and challenges, the joys and sorrows that shape our lives. Each story is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is light to be found.

But personal narratives are more than just tales of individual experiences; they are windows into the shared human experience. In sharing our stories, we bridge the gaps that divide us, forging connections that transcend barriers of time, space, and circumstance. We discover that despite our differences, we are bound together by a common thread of humanity – a thread woven from love, compassion, and empathy.

Through personal narratives, we find inspiration in the most unlikely of places – in the quiet courage of a child facing adversity, in the unwavering determination of a survivor rebuilding their life from the ashes, in the simple acts of kindness that illuminate the darkness. These stories remind us of the resilience of the human spirit, the power of hope, and the beauty of the human experience.

But perhaps most importantly, personal narratives serve as a catalyst for change – both within ourselves and in the world around us. As we reflect on the experiences of others, we gain new perspectives, new insights, and new ways of seeing the world. We are inspired to take action, to make a difference, to be the change we wish to see in the world.

In the end, personal narratives are a celebration of the human experience – a testament to the power of resilience, the beauty of diversity, and the strength of the human spirit. They remind us that no matter how difficult the journey may be, there is always hope, always light, always inspiration to be found. So let us continue to share our stories, to inspire and uplift one another, and to celebrate the moments that make life truly worth living.

Inspiring Moments Captured Through Words

Guys, what do you think about this Poem?

ABIKU by JP CLARKE

Coming and going these several seasons,
Do stay out on the baobab tree,
Follow where you please your kindred spirits
If indoors is not enough for you.
True, it leaks through the thatch
When floods brim the banks,
And the bats and the owls
Often tear in at night through the eaves,
And at harmattan, the bamboo walls
Are ready tinder for the fire
That dries the fresh fish up on the rack.
Still, it’s been the healthy stock
To several fingers, to many more will be
Who reach to the sun.
No longer then bestride the threshold
But step in and stay
For good. We know the knife scars
Serrating down your back and front
Like beak of the sword-fish,
And both your ears, notched
As a bondsman to this house,
Are all relics of your first comings.
Then step in, step in and stay
For her body is tired,
Tired, her milk going sour
Where many more mouths gladden the heart.

— End —

More poems from

Abiku By Jp Clarke

(Background music: love yourself by 
Justin Bieber)

Thunder strikes, the pitter patter of rain drops echoes through out the whole building. The lights were out, the lightening were the only thing that illuminated the room.

As the rains build, crazily drumming hazardly against the roof, warning, taunting and making the night all more damned, my anxiety peaks, fear gnawing at my ferocious soul. The ember of light supposedly meant to light my whole being flickering to a dangerous stop. 

No, this is my fight! 

I stand, commanding the demons threatening to be the end of me to keep their damned voices quite. I didn't want to hear, didn't want to feel. Yes, I couldn't let them win this last battle, couldn't let them corrupt the littlest courage in me. I needed to fight. 

So I stand, emerging like a wounded lioness finally realising who she is, the power she holds and what she is to become. Wounded but not condemned I drag my injured leg to the coffee table where lying generously is a kitchen knife Philip had used to butter his bread. 

A snarl escapes my throat, evil dancing in my once feminine eyes, soul at the verge of triumph. Yes, finally. 

At last, I'd accomplish all that my spirit has always wanted. Revenge 

Taking long powerful strides to my unconscious prey, lying on the tiled floor, breathing heavily from the impact of a flower vase that I had crashed on his head moments ago. A flower vase supposedly meant for me, for my head. 

Lounging forward, I strike......

Scorned

I can't spend my life with a village champion like you, you didnt worth my class. What will my friends say if they see me walking along with a broke asś. Amara yelled at kamara who was busy begging her to give him a chance to express his love for her.

I know am not the classic man you may think of, am not the man of your dream but Ami, i can take good care of you. On hearing this,she burst into laughter clapping her two hands.

Look at you that cant take proper care of himself, a jobless man looking for who to take care of, use that your penny to look after your mother who is lying helpless in the hospital.~said amara.

Ah!!!! Ah amara it havent gotten to that, why must you include that woman into this matter, are you making gest of his mother ill health~Debby said cutting her short.

Debby is amara's closest friend whom has been advicing her to give kamara a chance to express himself. Debby turned at kamara to ask for apology, seeing a grown man cry like a baby with tears rushing down his cheeks.

Ehhhhhhh!!! good samarithan dont forget to use your cloth to wipe the tears away. Amara said walking out from their sight.

***************

Can you imagine what happened earlier? Amara asked her friend kaosy who was standing at akimbo looking so interested to know what amara has to say.

Gini mere, gbam ukwu na eze( what happened gist me) she said.

That low life guy approached me today oo!!!
Excuse me, am lost! Who actually are you talking about~ kaosy asked.

Why sounding as if you dont know kamara the broke guy that moves round the street looking for ladies to spoil.~ Amara said in demostration.

Oh oh oh!!! you mean kamara the guy that abandoned his mother in the hospital just because of hundred thounsand naira bills!!!!

Exactly! Amara responded nodding her head.

Ok, what did he say ~ she asked.

Amara narrated all that kamara told her and how debby came to his defense.

I dont know why that your friend debby is defending him, does she has feelings for him or she wants to be called the great. Let me advice you as a friend, if you want to get what you want get ride of debby or else she will be spoiling all for you~ kaosy said looking a amara with a pretentious eye.

What do you mean exactly!! Amara asked. 
Disassociate yourself from her that's what am saying....she replied.

Hmm...but debby has been a good friend.

Taaaa. Thats why you are been deceived, the devil you know is better than the angel you dont know~ said kaosy.

Amara stood for a while but dont know what to say...

Okay! dont worry i will think about it and i will also be taking my leave its dark already... goodbye.
Amara turned and leave.

Look you, so foolish and proud of yourself. Because you saw who is in love with you, looking beyound you disfigured legs and you are here talking rubbish. Am 28 already and no one is talking to me about love or marriage, dont worry i will take kamara from you. ~ kaosy said within herself with a mild smile walking into her room.

TO Be Continued

Amara And Kamara

One more time and you're fired.

The last words my boss said to me the previous day play in my head repeatedly as I run around like a headless chicken.

'I arrived at work fifteen minutes after the expected time and I ended up running into my boss. The glare he sent me was enough for me to flinch. "How come you're late again, Aria?"

It was the same excuse, and even if he knew said excuse, he still wanted to see me squirm. "I had to drop—"

"I don't care." He interrupted and I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from retorting. I needed my job as it was what I lived on. What we both lived on. "You keep on coming in whenever you like and making silly excuses."

Since his voice was quite loud and we were in the reception, everyone around us heard him and I knew he wanted it so. He enjoyed embarrassing me. Fighting back the not-so-nice words threatening to escape my mouth, I settled on. "I'm sorry." I didn't promise him that it would be the last time because I'd be lying.

He looked at me from head to toe in a distasteful way, even if I knew he was actually checking me out. Subtly, for others, but not so for me. "One more time and you're fired."'

Struggling to put on my heels, as well as fix in my earrings, I manage to knock off a vase that shatters to the ground. Groaning, I throw the earrings in my bag and try putting on my shoes first.

I groan in irritation when I hear the annoying sound of my ringtone, just as I am about to sweep off the broken pieces on the floor.

On a normal day, it wouldn't be as annoying. I may have even let it ring for a while just to listen to my favorite song, but right now, it is just irritating. It just means someone wasting my time even more—I don't have a lot of that right now.

Checking the caller ID, I see it was Heather, my friend, and colleague, and I pick up, greeting her with a sharp, "What?"

Heather snorts on the line, already knowing my predicament. "What your ass. I'm not the reason you're late. Speaking of, where are you?"

"I'm still at home, and you're keeping me here even more. Goodbye."

I am ready to hang up when I hear her call out for me to wait. "Don't forget to bring the black dress with you."

I hang up after that and even if I won't admit it to her, I did forget about it. Lending her my black dress is the least of my worries right now. I have a job to save. I don't know how hard it is to find a job because I've been employed full-time since my internship there, and I'm not sure I want to find out anytime soon.

Quickly, I get back into my room and get out the folded dress I was planning on taking with me yesterday but forgot to this morning before going back to the living room to clean up my mess.

"Lucas! Are you ready?" I yell out and a muffled, 'one minute' reaches my ears as I quickly sweep off the pieces that had fallen on the floor, not wanting Lucas to step on any one of them. "Lucas!" I call out again when one minute has passed.

"What the— what are you doing?" I ask, correcting myself at the last moment, not wanting him to pick up curse words at an early age. He has a habit of imitating me. He used to keep his ketchup on the side. Now, he pours it on his fries, just like me.

"Tying my shoes! I'm almost done."

With a huff, I squat in front of him, bringing his legs forward and deftly knotting the laces of his sneakers. "All done. Can we go now?" His sheepish look makes me narrow my eyes at him. I already know he has done something wrong. "What?" His eyes fleet onto his nightstand and my jaw clenches at the still-full bowl of cereal that sits atop it.

Read Episode 2 Here>>

The Ceo's Favorite

I thought it was over!!!

In 2019, an impossible thing happened to me... I could not believe it could have happened to me, but it did.

I was coming back from work on a rainy Friday, just a tired man returning from work, paying attention to the road because it was not that good.

Unfortunately for me, I slipped and fell, but I stood up immediately. I had bruises on my hands but I moved on, walking back home.

That night, I felt discomfort, I thought it was just normal and would get better. After three days, it became very painful, and I was advised to see a doctor.

After undergoing several tests, I was instructed to return. The doctor said it would be advisable to amputate my leg. I looked at the doctor in a strange and very annoyed way.

Because of what; I FELL, and you are telling me it's advisable to cut my leg, when it's not as if I was involved in a major accident. Annoyed, I went out of his office scared, but I thought the doctor was just quack.

After several days, the pain continued and became very intense. I had to go to another hospital; the doctor there told me I needed to undergo the operation within just 4 days, or it might cause complications.

With fear, I imagined what I could have done wrong just falling down on the roadside, and now my left leg would be cut off, already on a wheelchair because I was told it would be better.

I accepted my fate and was ready for the operation. On that fateful day of the operation, I heard a voice, which I recognized as divine, saying, "It's not my will that you have just one leg." Trying to figure out what was going on.

The same voice said, "I will heal you. It's a promise, but will you believe me?" I screamed like a fool, "YES, I WILL." Then I told my family I am not going for any operation again. The voice came and said, "No, I want you to go, but just believe me."

I went already in the theater room. I told the doctor, "Do you know I won't undergo this operation?" He smiled, and I said, "Go and do a test on my leg again." Somehow annoyed, he said, "We should not be wasting time and just pray for a successful operation."

I said, "No, do the test again." He did, and according to him, he did it 10 times because he could not believe what he saw. No more complications. "How is that possible?" he asked.

I thank God that today both my legs are working fine. I later asked that voice within me, "Why did you help me? Why did you save me?" He said, "So you can tell others that I am God, and I have sent my son Jesus to heal everyone."

Can I tell someone reading this anywhere you are, that if Jesus, whom I did not even believe in like that, could do the impossible in my life, what about you? You are not too small, neither are you too big.

He did the impossible in my life; he is ready to do the same in your life. Whatever you are going through, he is ready to be with you and help you.

I am not telling you about a Jesus I read in books, but Jesus I met and showed up for me.

But are you ready to BELIEVE?

I pray that the God of the impossible will visit you right now in whatever you are going through.

Just BELIEVE!!!!

WILL YOU?

#Tellastorywithadetoyeayomikun

I Thought It Was Over!!

The voiceless one

The march of relentless soldiers, as if to war, I can hear,
The home of paradise filled with tears.
Cries and wails of the trampled upon,
Yet the march of the relentless one goes on.

Listen to our voices, free us from these chains,
Songs and books written to share our pain.
Our pleas become a melody to the beat of persecution,
"March, March, March on," they say, dancing on.

The rule of law, now impudent and cold,
As the young ones wield guns and swords to their hold.
If we take their loved ones and rob them, maybe we will seem,
Our voicelessness may vanish if we disobey their command.

Oh, what blood fills the street of gold as it turns to sand,
The punishment for fighting back puts fear on man.
The street was filled with silence, placing faith in God,
He saves and delivers those who trust His name.

Arise, my people, let the voiceless one be heard,
In unity, we'll fight, reclaim our rightful bed.
A plea echoes, the mouth does not bite the hand that feeds,
Religion aside, with one strength, let's proceed.

Beneath the shadowed skies, where hope and courage blend,
Our journey continues, and oppression shall not bend.
For in the unity of purpose, a flame forever burns,
A beacon for the voiceless, as a new dawn yearns.

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