₦airaland Forum

Drunkinlove:
Tnks for d updates Audrey bt am nt finding dis funny.i cnt see any updates again,all i keep seeing is "removed"where d updates are meant to be.sincerely,am heart broken pls do sometin or hw will i get d updates?

Hi!! You can get your copy here: https://selar.com/unfulfilledpromises

BerryBabyB:
This suspense is killing me...
Really enjoying the story..
Please Update na Abeg

aydolar:
[color=#006600][/color]why is it removed

princemozyk:
still in suspence...dont know how it ended where can get full episodes of chapter 2.....

crislyn:
Awww so good to hear from you ma'am! Happy New year to you and your family. waiting for you like the people waiting on MMM, may the Balm of Gilead touch your eyes.

ewawumi:
hi Audrey, nice job so far. please, do u mind helping me with d complete work? okadabooks is giving m issues recharging. tnx so much for this great piece of work.

ewawumi:
hi Audrey, nice job so far. please, do u mind helping me with d complete work? okadabooks is giving m issues recharging. tnx so much for this great piece of work.

Deztro:
plz i am begging/asking why are some of the updates removed from page 34

Hi!! You can get your copy here: https://selar.com/unfulfilledpromises

jmkbond:
I lost mine with letting go when okadabooks stopped operation🥺

boosiryormi:
Dear Audrey,Please how do I get the
complete story.I can't see ur updates.the
last I saw was when Oleng visited Eric, or probably how do I download it. pls reply Asap God bless u.

whinnie:
Wonderful piece you got there,thanks a lot,but some update were removed..how do I get it please...thanks alot

eyezik3:
How can I read the rest of the story Audrey timms?

Doctus:
you have done very well in your book,it was getting interesting untill I was not able to see any update.pls what cn I do?

Rukidiv:
Please I need the complete story asap
I will pay for it
I can't seem to download it at okadabooks.com

Ehi07:
Pls where i can get the full story. Soft copy or hard copy. I want to buy o.

Hi!! You can get your copy here: https://selar.com/unfulfilledpromises

Adetoo:
Dear Audrey please how do I get your stories?

Hi!! You can get your copy here: https://selar.com/unfulfilledpromises

The story follows Oleng, a girl raised with emotional neglect, overlooked by her successful mother, and longing for real love. Eric Conrad, her gentle confidant, brings comfort and friendship that grows into first love. But promises are broken, secrets emerge, and heartbreak follows. Oleng must face the challenges of growing up, betrayal, and fractured trust.

Audrey Timms writes with honesty that makes her characters stay in your mind long after the last page.

The print edition includes special design, author notes, and bonus content for early readers.

Buy your copy now at https://selar.com/unfulfilledpromises

A Month to Celebrate Christian and Muslim Creatives


At Writertain Creatives, every month tells a story. For September, our story is about faith and creativity and the powerful ways
both shape culture. This month, we dedicate our spotlight to Christian and Muslim creatives, honoring writers, poets, storytellers, filmmakers,
and thinkers who draw inspiration from their spiritual journeys.

From parables woven into Christian fiction to hymns inspiring poetic rhythms, the church has always been a foundation for creative expression. Many writers found their first stage in Sunday school or choir rehearsals.

With the lyrical beauty of Quranic recitations and the tradition of oral storytelling, Muslim poets and writers continue to enrich Nigerian literature with rhythm, depth, and cultural pride.


In celebrating Christian and Muslim creatives this month, we recognize more than faith identities. We recognize resilience, imagination, and how sacred texts continue to inspire timeless works of art.
This celebration is not about division but convergence. It is about the shared cultural fabric woven from belief, creativity, and community. Faith-driven art doesn’t just entertain. It uplifts, heals, and connects us to something greater.


“This September, let us celebrate those who create with conviction—those whose words shine like lanterns, guiding us through the darkness.”


WRITERTAIN CREATIVES

https://writertaincreatives.ink/september-a-month-to-celebrate-christian-and-muslim-creatives/

Nigerian literature boasts a wealth of memoirs that delve deep into personal experiences, offering readers profound insights into the human condition. While some memoirists like Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie or Chinua Achebe have garnered international acclaim, others remain underappreciated despite their compelling, vulnerable, and powerful narratives. These underrated Nigerian memoirists invite us into worlds shaped by identity, migration, war, grief, and survival.

Here are some powerful but lesser-known memoirists whose stories will linger long after the last page—and where you can find their works.

1. Frances Ogamba – “The Valley of Memories”
Frances Ogamba’s award-winning essay The Valley of Memories tells a deeply personal story of a woman haunted by the memory of her late uncle. With lyricism and restraint, Ogamba meditates on familial bonds, mourning, and the cultural rituals that surround death. The essay won the 2019 Koffi Addo Prize for Creative Nonfiction.

Read it on: Writivism Website

2. Melatu Uche Okorie – “This Hostel Life”
In This Hostel Life, Melatu Uche Okorie draws on her experience as an asylum seeker in Ireland’s direct provision system. Though structured as a collection of stories, the core of the book is memoiristic—highlighting the indignity, isolation, and bureaucratic frustration endured by immigrants. The book blends English and Nigerian Pidgin, offering raw, authentic insight into the lives of displaced Nigerians.

Buy from: Cassava Republic Press, Amazon

3. Adewale Maja-Pearce – “The House My Father Built”
Adewale Maja-Pearce’s The House My Father Built is a witty yet sobering look at inheritance, legal wrangling, and Lagos’s chaotic real estate system. With sharp prose, the author recounts his struggle to reclaim and live in the house left to him by his father. It’s a story of ambition, identity, middle-class pressure, and Nigeria’s bureaucratic frustrations.

Available via: Amazon, Ouida Books

4. Rosina Umelo – “Surviving Biafra: A Nigerwife’s Story”
This haunting memoir by Rosina Umelo provides an outsider-insider’s account of the Biafran War. As a British woman married to a Nigerian man, Umelo recounts the harrowing experience of living through war with children in tow. Her perspective as a “Nigerwife” during a time of intense national crisis adds a rare dimension to the literature on the Civil War.

Published by: Spectrum Books (Nigeria)

5. Glory Edim – “Gather Me: A Memoir in Praise of the Books That Saved Me”
Glory Edim, founder of the Well-Read Black Girl community, brings us Gather Me, a lyrical exploration of how literature helped her navigate growing up as the child of Nigerian immigrants in the U.S. Through books, she discovers solace, empowerment, and the language to shape her identity. Though rooted in the diaspora, her Nigerian heritage deeply shapes the memoir’s emotional core.

📍 Available for preorder / purchase via: Penguin Random House, Bookshop.org

Why These Stories Matter
These voices, though not always in the literary spotlight, offer some of the most emotionally resonant, culturally rich narratives from Nigeria. They speak to intergenerational memory, migration, womanhood, grief, resilience, and the burden of identity. For readers looking to deepen their understanding of Nigerian life beyond headlines and fiction, these memoirs are essential.

Whether you’re a curious reader, a literary enthusiast, or a Nigerian looking for reflections of self and society, these memoirs are profound literary companions

Be Writertained Chronicle
Short Stories | Essays | Poetry

THEMES FOR SEPTEMBER TO DECEMBER 2025
We're calling on writers to submit works that reflect any of the themes below. All genres are welcome - fiction, non-fiction, or poetry.

SEPTEMBER – Faith and Creativity
This month, we celebrate Christian and Muslim creatives. Share stories, poems, or essays on how faith shapes your art, your life, or your creative journey.

OCTOBER – Country and Care
In honour of Nigerian Independence Day and Women's Health Awareness, we are accepting works that touch on freedom, identity, womanhood, mental or physical health.

NOVEMBER – Men and Meaning
We focus on men, especially male writers and stories that reflect men’s health, identity, vulnerability, fatherhood, or emotional strength.

DECEMBER – Light in the Margins
We're spotlighting disabled creatives and stories centered on disability. We also welcome Christian-themed works that reflect struggle, joy, faith, or hope.

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

- Maximum word count for short stories and essays: 1,500 words

- You can submit up to 3 poems

- Submit your work as a .doc or .pdf file

- Include a short bio (50–100 words)

Deadline for each theme is the 25th of that month

SEND ENTRIES TO: Writertainpublishers@gmail.com

Let your voice be heard. Let your story travel.

Writertain Publishers is ecstatic to announce it has acquired Unfulfilled Promises, the emotionally charged romance by Audrey Timms that found a massive online following. With its digital popularity and heartfelt storytelling, the novel is now officially open for pre‑order in its debut print release.

Unfulfilled Promises explores the bittersweet journey of Oleng, a young girl raised in emotional neglect, overlooked by her successful mother and surrounded by conditional love. Into her isolated world comes Eric Conrad, her gentle confidant, whose kindness offers her the comfort she’s longed for. Their innocent high‑school friendship deepens into a first love that feels destined, until promises go unkept and silence overtakes hope.
What begins with whispered promises and youthful longing turns into betrayal, secrets, and heartbreak. Oleng is forced into unexpected adulthood, wrestling with shame, silence, and fractured trust. Unfulfilled Promises is both a tear‑jerking story of adolescent romance and a powerful narrative of resilience.
goodreads.com

“Audrey Timms writes with raw emotional honesty. Her characters linger in your mind long after the final page.”- Writertain Editorial Board

Writertain’s acquisition underscores its dedication to publishing stories that resonate deeply with Nigerian readers and beyond. The print edition of Unfulfilled Promises will include captivating design, author notes, and bonus content for early supporters.

Pre‑order is now open through https://selar.com/unfulfilledpromises

I was going through my old files — stories, articles, drafts — and found a 15-page book I started years ago. The working title?
Early Pioneers: A History of Nigerian Digital Books.”

Guess what I discovered?
Almost every early record I had started from Nairaland.

Before Okadabooks.
Before Bambooks.
Before this board was moderated by great minds like Cuddlemii and Humbledbygrace
It was Nairalanders, writers, readers, thinkers, who laid the foundation for Nigerian digital storytelling.

It starts with Seun Osewa, who gave us this open ground. Then came the storytellers like
AudreyTimms. EvaJael. Repogirl. Frank316. Kayemjay, Royver.
People like Mine Whitman, who held us down here before starting Naija Stories
Orikinla and David Dylan... Even Karo Oforofuo was present here before being part of Okadabooks’ growth.

We can’t forget the icons with cult classics who never got to publish:
RedMosquito. WhiteMosquito, Flakkydagirl,
These were not just usernames, these were voices. Movements in themselves.
Although we still have some writing and publishing like Larrysun, Rachaelfst (Toyin Taiwo), Shewrites (Sarah Iyare)...

And then we had the ones who gave feedback, built momentum, and encouraged others financially while writing their own stories like Queenitee. Princesa.
True OGs of literary support.

Today, many of these names are quiet.
Some burnt out.
Some ghosted by the industry.
Some simply disappeared from themselves.

And yet… we know the truth:
Nairaland started it.
This forum gave us everything. Before social media trends. Before content calendars. Before royalties.

So no, this is not a comeback post.
This is a survival post.


I started Writertain to document the movement; Nigerian writers telling stories outside the gate.
But the movement is fragile. And if we don’t hold it, it will vanish.

That’s why Writertain is evolving into a hybrid platform:
- Documenting stories.
- Supporting creatives.
- Creating space for Nigerian storytellers in all forms - books, blogs, scripts, audio, films.

And yes, we are prioritising Nairalanders.
If you’ve ever…

– Written a book no one read
– Sent a script to someone who ghosted
– Cried over a blog post with only 6 views
– Started a brilliant series and life got in the way

Writertain is for you.

We won’t offer false hope.
But we will walk with you.
Build with you.
Mourn with you.
Try again with you.

Let’s do the hard work. Together.

- If you remember any writers I didn’t mention, drop their names. Let’s honour them.
- If you're still creating, let us know — Writertain is building new ways to help.
- If you’ve stopped but want to return quietly, we see you too.

This isn’t nostalgia. It’s memory turned into mission.
Let’s bring it back, differently this time.

Infinityworks:
What would make you switch from Webnovel/Wattpad?

It's not really for Nigerians and that's a problem on its own

Next time your post is deleted check your account and see you've been banned by a BOT.

Whenever you post a link, it will come out to delete the post

Jaycobbs:
JOB ALERT!

Toba’s heart fluttered at the sight of the flowers in the man’s hand at the restaurant’s door. She had been so lost in work all day that she missed the opportunity to enjoy the beauty of that bloody day. The hearts of some would beat as they make their first step in their relationships. For some, it was the blood rushing to their head in realization that they’ve been in the relationship alone, thinking about the best gift for their partner who couldn’t make a simple gesture as sending them a message. For so many, it was the breaking of hymens or the pumping of blood through the same veins pumping sweats out of their pores despite the ACs, fans, or open windows.

The man holding the flower beelined towards her and she smiled, but stopped herself the moment he got near her. It was a greek horse. The bulky man wearing a hood noticed that she realized who he was and quickly moved the flower aside as his hands flew under his black jacket. She saw the little note in the flower, saw the woman turning towards them in wonder, and also saw the gun coming out of his jacket. In a quick succession, she pulled her shot handgun from her waistbelt, and didn’t need to do much targeting before she released the shot.

Soon enough, all around her were screams, scampers, table turning, people going for cover and the bulky man falling with a hole drilled in his head by her perfect shot. She should be excited about it, but she sighed. Now, she had to move to different city. She picked the small school bag buried between the rusty fridge and the dying oven as she removed her apron.

“I quit”, she said to her boss, who was cowering under the counter. For the first time, the tiny woman with 4 year wig wasn’t babbling about how inept Toba was. Her eyes were canvas of fear. Toba raced to the flower, picked the note within it, and dashed out of the restaurant, bracing herself for anything that might come her way. However, there wasn’t any surprise waiting for her.

When she was on a bike, she opened the letter and read it:
Happy Valentine, I hope this flower send you to hell or running
- The love you left for dead.

kay29000:
Hello Divepen1, can you make me one book cover a week from now till December? I'll pay you for the covers.

Chai. I didn't see this on time.

emusmithyy:
Okay, Thank You!

1. HOW TO BORROW MONEY FROM NIGERIANS
2. Utethe Smith, Emu
3. 18 Proven ways to ask for financial help when in desperate need
4. Money/Finance
5. I had worked as a school teacher for 10 years. I had always felt the nudge to leave where I was even if it was a better school that paid higher; just leave.

Yet, I stayed for more years. In 2023, I decided to leave against common sense, I had no job waiting for me.

Those months I stayed at home and taught me a lot about seeking financial help from others when I so needed one to push my dreams and life forward. I wasn't raised that way but I had little choice.

Making the decision to leave that job was the best at the long run because I got a better job that offered me more time, knowledge and resource.

This book is a compendium of my experience during those months when I was home without a job. I was a giver so it was hard for me to ask from people.

That frame of mind enabled me to coin ways of genuinely borrowing money from people when I needed it.

Just perhaps you have been failing to get help from someone because of your personality. In this book, you will find strategies that align with the beliefs of those people you need help from.

I will teach you kind ways to borrow money from people when you need money, especially from people you offer some level of service to. It's a quid-pro-quo relationship.

6. I like the image on the green one, then i like the MOCKUP on the yellow one.


I will appreciate this.

1. I really don't understand. That's the book cover already keh

sochey:
Ok, thank you.

I have a story I've been working on.

Title: The dead tell no tales.
Authors name: Sochima Ossai

Synopsis: It's about a young boy who commits suicide in a Catholic church. The story is being told in the voice of this boy's best friend who tries to uncover the mysteries behind the boys sudden death. According to him, the boy was cheerful, spirited and full of life so he couldn't understand why his friend could do such thing. So him and a girl who's also their friend starts asking questions. In the story, I want to elaborate on the concept of child abuse, mental illness in a parent, depression, anxiety and a lot of things happening in a family. Eventually, this friends finds out the ungodly events happening in the house of God led by the priest which the boy who died uncovered months before his death and threatened to expose the priest. The priest who didn't want his secrets revealed warned the boy and asks him to discontinue. They uncover the priest having a hand in the boys death. In the end, it's just this friend who is telling the story that pushed the boy off the parish tower because of a girl whom the both of them had fallen in love with.

Here...

Chapter 1

Adesola sat in front of the large mirror in her small but cozy apartment, sunlight pouring through the window like liquid gold. It danced across her glowing skin, highlighting the soft curves of her cheekbones and the fullness of her lips—a beauty so striking it seemed almost unfair. Her tiny apartment, while modest, was a haven filled with little touches of her personality: framed photographs of her past modeling gigs, potted plants she affectionately named, and a neatly organized vanity that sparkled with cosmetics.
Today, the stakes felt higher than ever. It was the morning of another rehearsal for the Crown of Elegance competition, and with every passing day, the buzz around the event grew louder. Winning meant more than fame; it meant earning the crown, a symbol of ultimate prestige and influence. Adesola knew this competition could change her life forever.
She carefully picked up her makeup brush, steadying her hand as she worked on her face. Each stroke was deliberate, almost meditative, but her thoughts were anything but calm.
Amara.
The name was like a pebble in her shoe, a constant irritation that she couldn’t ignore. Adesola’s rise in the modeling world had been meteoric, but Amara had been a towering presence long before her arrival. Their rivalry was the stuff of tabloid headlines, framed as the battle of two queens—Amara, the established star, versus Adesola, the audacious upstart.
Their history wasn’t just about competing on stage; it was personal.
________________________________________
The first real clash between Adesola and Amara had occurred at the Face of Elegance runway show a year ago. Adesola had been the underdog, a fresh-faced model with everything to prove. The crowd buzzed with excitement as the models prepared backstage, but it was no secret that Amara was the favorite to win. Her reputation preceded her: bold, confident, and charismatic to the point of intimidation.
Adesola, on the other hand, had entered the competition quietly. She wasn’t backed by a powerful sponsor or connected to influential industry insiders. What she had was raw talent—and that alone had caught the attention of the judges.
The tension between the two women had simmered all evening, but it boiled over moments before the final walk. Adesola was adjusting the delicate straps of her evening gown when Amara approached her, flanked by her entourage.
“Nice dress,” Amara said, her tone dripping with condescension. Her eyes flicked over Adesola’s gown, a shimmering gold piece that hugged her figure perfectly. “I suppose we all have to start somewhere.”
Adesola forced a smile. “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Amara’s smirk widened. “Don’t get too comfortable. This industry eats the weak alive. You might shine for a moment, but stars like me? We last forever.”
Adesola said nothing, but her silence was heavy with defiance. She knew better than to engage—her focus was on the stage, not Amara’s barbs.
When the final walk began, it was clear to everyone that Adesola wasn’t just another contestant. Her stride was confident, her presence electric. The crowd erupted in applause as she owned the runway, her gown glinting under the lights like molten gold. Even the judges seemed captivated, their eyes fixed on her every move.
But Amara wasn’t one to be outdone.
As Adesola reached the end of the runway, a sudden commotion broke the flow of the show. Amara, following right behind her, deliberately stepped on the train of Adesola’s gown, tearing the delicate fabric with a loud rip. Gasps echoed through the room.
Adesola froze, her heart pounding as humiliation threatened to overwhelm her. But instead of faltering, she did something unexpected.
With a steadying breath, she turned her head slightly, flashing a dazzling smile as if the mishap had been part of the act. The crowd cheered even louder, and the judges exchanged impressed glances. Amara’s attempt to sabotage her had backfired spectacularly.
Later that night, when the winner was announced, Adesola came in second. The crown went to Amara, but the audience knew who had truly stolen the show. From that day on, their rivalry became the talk of the industry.


***
Back in the present, Adesola put the finishing touches on her makeup, her reflection staring back at her with quiet determination.
“Today is another step,” she whispered, her voice steady.
At the rehearsal venue, the energy was palpable. Models, stylists, and photographers moved about like bees in a hive, their conversations blending into a lively hum. Adesola stepped into the room wearing a simple yellow dress that hugged her figure perfectly. Heads turned, as they always did, but she paid no attention.
“Fashionably late as always,” Kemi teased, handing her a bottle of water.
Adesola smiled. “Not late,” she said lightly. “Just perfectly on time.”
Kemi rolled her eyes but grinned. “You know Amara’s already here, right? Making sure everyone knows she’s the favorite to win.”
Adesola’s smile faltered for a moment before she forced it back. “Let her have her moment,” she said softly. “We’ll see who shines on the final day.”
During the practice walk, Adesola felt the familiar weight of Amara’s gaze. Her rival was unusually confident today, even for her. The sly smirks, the whispered exchanges with others, the subtle glances in Adesola’s direction—it was all too calculated.
“She’s plotting something,” Kemi said during their lunch break, her tone laced with suspicion.
“What do you mean?” Adesola asked, her brow furrowing.
“I overheard one of the stylists talking about her sponsor,” Kemi said, leaning in closer. “Apparently, they’re pulling strings to make sure she wins. Something about influencing the judging panel.”
Adesola frowned. She had heard of such things before—models backed by powerful sponsors using their influence to tilt the odds. It was a reality she hated but had always avoided.
“She can have her strings,” Adesola said firmly. “I have my talent.”
That night, Adesola sat by her window, the city lights twinkling like distant stars. Her tiny apartment felt even smaller as she replayed the day’s events in her mind. The pressure of the competition was weighing on her, but what lingered most were the strange dreams she had been having.
The woman’s face was always so vivid, her features glowing with a light that seemed to come from within. She spoke in riddles, calling her “daughter” and urging her to be strong.
“Who are you?” Adesola whispered into the stillness of the night.
The city offered no answers. Only the faint hum of traffic and the occasional chirp of crickets filled the silence.
Adesola closed her eyes, letting her head rest against the cool glass of the window. Somewhere deep inside, she felt a storm brewing, a quiet but insistent force that refused to be ignored. The path ahead was uncertain, but she knew one thing for sure—this wasn’t just about a crown anymore.
This was about something much bigger.

Long before you or I walked this earth, the gods of Nigeria shaped the world through feuds that echoed across the divine realms. Among these rivalries, none burned fiercer than the animosity between Oya, the goddess of storms, and Oshun, the goddess of love and rivers. Their story, whispered through time, begins with a bond both sacred and bitter: they were co-wives of Sango, the god of thunder.
Oshun was Sango’s delight. Her beauty glimmered like sunlight on calm waters, and her culinary mastery kept him returning to her with unbridled devotion. Every dish she prepared, every honeyed smile she gave, tightened her hold on his heart. Oya, powerful and proud, watched this affection from a distance, her emotions churning like the tempests she commanded.

In her desperation to capture Sango’s undivided love, Oya swallowed her pride and approached Oshun for advice. She saw the charm that radiated from her rival and believed Oshun’s wisdom could hold the key to winning Sango’s affection.
"Feed him your flesh," Oshun whispered, her voice honeyed and inviting, as she held up a small piece of what appeared to be her own ear. The act was bold, shocking even, but Oshun framed it as an ultimate gesture of devotion.
Oya hesitated. The idea was grotesque, but her longing outweighed her doubts. Trusting Oshun’s words, she sacrificed a piece of herself and offered it to Sango.
His reaction was immediate and devastating. Horror twisted his face, and he recoiled, his voice like thunder as he rejected her offering. Flesh, especially such as this, was forbidden to him. It was then that Oya learned the truth: Oshun had tricked her. The flesh Oshun had presented was not her own but that of a goat.

The revelation ignited a storm within Oya, one that mirrored the chaos in the skies. Her tears, born of humiliation and rage, poured into the earth, swelling into a river that roared with her anguish. Oshun, triumphant, transformed into a river herself, her laughter rippling through the waters as she mocked Oya’s pain.
For days, the rivers clashed, their fury unstoppable. It took the intervention of a divine arbiter to separate them, placing stones between their waters and creating an eternal divide. Though their forms were stilled, their enmity persisted, seeping into the fabric of time itself.



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kZAIkIePjEw

Prologue

Long before Adesola—or even you or I—walked this earth, the gods of Nigeria shaped the world through feuds that echoed across the divine realms. Among these rivalries, none burned fiercer than the animosity between Oya, the goddess of storms, and Oshun, the goddess of love and rivers. Their story, whispered through time, begins with a bond both sacred and bitter: they were co-wives of Sango, the god of thunder.
Oshun was Sango’s delight. Her beauty glimmered like sunlight on calm waters, and her culinary mastery kept him returning to her with unbridled devotion. Every dish she prepared, every honeyed smile she gave, tightened her hold on his heart. Oya, powerful and proud, watched this affection from a distance, her emotions churning like the tempests she commanded.

In her desperation to capture Sango’s undivided love, Oya swallowed her pride and approached Oshun for advice. She saw the charm that radiated from her rival and believed Oshun’s wisdom could hold the key to winning Sango’s affection.
"Feed him your flesh," Oshun whispered, her voice honeyed and inviting, as she held up a small piece of what appeared to be her own ear. The act was bold, shocking even, but Oshun framed it as an ultimate gesture of devotion.
Oya hesitated. The idea was grotesque, but her longing outweighed her doubts. Trusting Oshun’s words, she sacrificed a piece of herself and offered it to Sango.
His reaction was immediate and devastating. Horror twisted his face, and he recoiled, his voice like thunder as he rejected her offering. Flesh, especially such as this, was forbidden to him. It was then that Oya learned the truth: Oshun had tricked her. The flesh Oshun had presented was not her own but that of a goat.

The revelation ignited a storm within Oya, one that mirrored the chaos in the skies. Her tears, born of humiliation and rage, poured into the earth, swelling into a river that roared with her anguish. Oshun, triumphant, transformed into a river herself, her laughter rippling through the waters as she mocked Oya’s pain.
For days, the rivers clashed, their fury unstoppable. It took the intervention of a divine arbiter to separate them, placing stones between their waters and creating an eternal divide. Though their forms were stilled, their enmity persisted, seeping into the fabric of time itself.
Centuries passed, yet the rivalry between Oya and Oshun never faded. Its echoes found new life in Fortune City, a place where mortals and gods once walked side by side. But the greed and power struggles of some gods—Oya among them—forced a divide between the mortal and immortal worlds. To maintain balance, the gods agreed to wield their influence through chosen mortal champions.
Every few decades, a mysterious competition would arise, cloaked in secrecy. To mortals, it seemed like a simple test of skill or strength, but for the gods, it was a battleground. The victor would gain dominion over both realms, tipping the balance of power.

This year, the stage is set once again. Oya, relentless in her quest for supremacy, has crafted a new scheme. She plans to humiliate Oshun by targeting her daughter, Adesola—a demi-god whose very existence is a testament to Oshun’s grace.
Adesola, however, knows nothing of her divine heritage. In Sun City, she lives the life of an ordinary young woman, her beauty turning heads but her heart burdened by struggles she cannot yet name. With no training, no knowledge of her powers, and no clue about the storm brewing around her, Adesola is far from ready for what lies ahead.
But destiny waits for no one.

Hi, all...
So, I'm posting a story that I just told on Youtube.
Here's the link:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYauC4zLBls

However, I have a more comprehensive version that I will post here every four days or so. But would have posted it up for sale by then. Do enjoy the first few chapters

Bro.... Calm down.

You should have contacted a mod and read what really banned you in your profile.

How long have you spent on the forum?

You should know by now that if you post anything with a link, Antispambot automatically bans it.
Our job is to help revive the content.


Several authors have sold their books through Nairaland. So, I see no reason anyone should pick on you....


So, if you still feel the need to leave, Godspeed...

I've done this before, but once in a while I like to have fun creating book covers.

So, don't expect over-the-top-design, but I can be creative... And I'm creating only the front cover (for free)...
I can only do one cover at a time. So, if you need more, you might need to use another reply option.



Now, all I need from you are:

1. Book Name
2. Author name
3. Any word you want on it.. Like "Free Things are not really free... Except the person giving it wants to add it to his portfolio".
4. Book Genre.
5. Synopsis
6. Any idea you have for the book.
7. Any sample of book cover you have in mind (Don't worry, it can be a complex design


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sochey:
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Epilogue
Everything transformed quickly. The Queen invited the heroes to join the Queen’s guard training. Imoye enjoyed peace, with Queen Ademiposi expanding her army to protect all city roads. Baba Oje received many gifts and moved to live with the Queen.
Adio married Feyisara, Irede wed Suberu Oje, Olu and Tinuola married, and Ojo and Segilola became a couple. Suberu and the Prince grew closer.

From time immemorial, men and women have excelled when following their chosen paths. Destiny may guide them, but it's action that leads a person to where they truly belong.

Chapter 20
They fought valiantly, attacking the weak spots as Segilola had instructed. One by one, they gained ground. Villagers from Imoye called for their help, but Segilola remained focused, ensuring they didn’t stray from their plan.

However, the tide of battle soon shifted. The leader of the Ogaras, seeing his forces faltering, ordered all his men to converge on Irede’s group. Surrounded and outnumbered, they fought with everything they had, but their strength was waning. Adio’s voice cracked, and Irede could barely fend off the waves of enemies coming for her.

Just as they were about to be overwhelmed, a noise from the forest caught Irede’s attention. She turned to see Suberu, leading a large army. With renewed hope, the Oto group rallied. Suberu’s forces charged in, turning the tide of battle. By evening, the Ogaras had been defeated for the first time, marking a hard-won victory.

Chapter 19
Just when all seemed lost, Baba Oje appeared, limping toward them. "Ah! This is where you are!" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of relief and weariness. Tinuola had told him where to find them, but he was without any tools to help. "You’ll have to break the door yourselves," he said, sitting down as if the task was trivial.

With no weapons at hand, Adio voiced his frustration. "How are we supposed to do that?"

Baba Oje gave them a knowing smile. "You have more power than you realize. Adio, give us music. Irede, fight the cage."

Adio looked bewildered. "There’s no instrument here."

"It’s not the instrument," Baba Oje corrected. "It’s you. Sing."

Reluctantly, Adio began to sing, his voice shaky at first, but as the melody grew, so did Irede’s strength. She grabbed the machete, which had previously seemed useless, and with renewed energy, hacked at the door until it finally gave way.

Before they could make a run for it, Segilola stopped them. "We need a plan. We can’t just charge in. Our formation needs to be strong." She turned to Ojo. "This time, look for the weak spots, the places that give us an advantage. Even if the strongest people are guarding them, that’s where we’ll strike."

Though Ojo was still injured, he nodded, his determination matching Segilola’s. Tinuola, refusing to leave Olu’s side, vowed to help however she could. Despite Olu’s protests, the group prepared to enter the battlefield once again.

Chapter 18
Their peace was short-lived, however. Outside, the sounds of chaos erupted. Tinuola, wide-eyed and frantic, rushed to them with tears streaming down her face. She tugged at the cage, trying desperately to free them, but the door wouldn’t budge. The town had been overrun by the Ogaras, and there was no way for them to escape.

"Go!" Olu shouted at her, fear lacing his voice. "You can’t stay here. Get out while you can!"

But Tinuola refused, shaking her head in defiance. "I can’t leave you alone! What if something happens to you?"

Olu’s eyes softened, torn between fear for her safety and his desire to have her by his side. "Nothing will happen to us," he insisted, though his voice lacked conviction. Reluctantly, Tinuola obeyed and fled, leaving the group behind in the rising turmoil.

As the noise of battle drew closer, they grew more desperate. Ojo, his voice weak, muttered something about the Ogaras, but Irede was too busy trying to force the door open to listen. Adio joined her, pushing and pulling at the heavy gate, but their efforts were in vain.

Chapter 17
By the next morning, chaos reigned. When Balogun learned what had happened, he was furious. "Bring them to me!" he demanded, his voice echoing with authority. Within minutes, men had rounded up the group, though Segilola’s name was called last. She came hurrying, ready to face whatever wrath awaited them.

Balogun berated them, his anger palpable. Ojo, however, wouldn’t stop talking about the animal signs he had seen—birds leaving the forest, animals behaving unusually. "It’s not new!" Balogun snapped, dismissing him, but Ojo persisted, convinced of his observations.

Frustrated and unwilling to hear more, Balogun ordered them all to be imprisoned. Even his own daughter was not spared. Feyisara tried to resist, invoking her father’s name, but Balogun was unmoved. He threw them all into the cell, including her, despite her protests.

Inside the dim, confining space, Irede felt the loneliness press down on her. She had always been the one to fight, to push forward, but now, as she watched Segilola tending to Ojo’s injuries and Feyisara leaning on Adio for comfort, she felt a deep sense of isolation. She couldn’t help but wonder where Suberu was, and whether he had succeeded in his mission to reach the Queen.

As they settled into their confinement, a small comfort arrived in the form of Tinuola, a homely girl who brought them food. Her affection for Olu was evident, and despite the tension, there was a brief moment of levity as Olu mentioned they hoped to marry soon. "You’re not too old," Irede teased, though Olu shot back, "But not too young for marriage."