Night Fall in Igbotu evil Forest. My travelogue and exodus to the forest of thousand demons was argueble more dangerous than the war in Vietnam. I was there to churn out an industrous venture but metaphysical being,precisely, diminutive gnome,extended my perilous task. The night was befriended with peculiar sinister.A grave panorama opened an extant pandoras box and what was therein- in succession. It was not far fetched: a Panegyric chirp of the insect and tu-whit,tu-whoo of the owl were the pantheon of papitation. Aha! alchemist! Phantasmagorically, I became embroiled with those that walk in the night when men are at sleep.I dug my grave, many times, but noting was buried thereof.I picked a bone and wrestled with "aiyelala" Uwadiegu! Thunder struck, by Amadioha, pacified idemili's venom. Look, May sango kill ogun if I didn't tail restless spirits: those that were killed by the gods ( Amadiogha and Sango),chie,the spirits, were complaining bitterly as they were in procession to Hades. And what worse,was when a pregnant nightingale heralded sonorous omen about me.Yet, I had nothing to lose, though my future. Moreover, the world awaited for my rhythmic steps at the sport.This is fact.I hate pathetic falacy. Some were born great, some thrusted upon it; but I achieved greatness at a time of extintion (=of my life) .Should die I was,what a vacuum! Everything in life has philisophical backing: a drunk baboon has a sociological intimacy with palm-wine, a friend in need is better than wayward family. Please pardon me for the righteous indignations that carried me far in thought than I intended. I was searched for,not for my whereabout but the result for the task. I came to understand that I had transformed into phobophobia (the fear of fear).God didnt want me to succeed but to try. By the morning, the forest was tired of me,then me it vomited. I once hated folklore,but this broke tradition.This, anecdote,as analogous to Robinson Crusoe's voyage.