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Oga Divepen1 please attend to you PM...It's very important.

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Wininiel:
Nice one Divepen. please check your mail. I need your help on something.

I can't find it

joanee20:
Following bumper to bumper

Thanks

Omoalhaja7:
Any story 4rm Divepen is nofin but a bomb.
Lemme quikly register b4 sitting down to read d 1st update.

Welcome. I will surely deliver.

Liquid Wealth


Happiness. He smiled. He reread it.
‘Whoa!’ Olu shouted. He covered his mouth immediately he remembered where he was. The people around him smiled at him, and he reciprocated by closing his eyes for some
seconds, giving them a very big grin.

‘Bros! Wetin be that?’ Someone said, and tried to look at the newspaper. He smelt like break oil.

‘Buy your own’ He said and closed the paper hurriedly. The information was for him and him alone. He withdrew from the crowd, still staring at the newspaper. The people around the newspaper stand kept arguing about issues especially that which didn’t concern them- Nigeria. They had the issue of Fortune City to solve. The mysteries that had been happening in the town ever since they had elected Gulibus Matthias as the leader, things had worsened. However, he wasn’t concerned. His concern right there was the newspaper in front of him.

Ever since the day had been reading newspapers, he had never seen such advertisement in the newspaper. He glanced over his shoulders to be sure no one was
reading what he was reading.
‘Bros. Bros you never give me money for that paper’ the vendor said, jolting Olu out of his daydream.

Olu smirked and looked around. Some people stared at him as though he was the tenth wonder of the earth, maybe because he was fat or because things were hard. People needed someone to blame, an offender. He couldn’t blame them because he himself had had the opportunity of beating a man to a pulp until the woman who screamed for help said they were just playing. He had never bought newspaper since the day he was born, he snipped the little information he had from Radios and others newspapers but not his.
‘How much?’
‘Five hundred naira’. He hated the fact that
they used Nigeria’s money in the city. Now
the newspaper was five hundred naira.
‘Five hundred naira? Eh?’ His voice rose above normal.
‘When did it become five hundred naira?
Some people turned to him; others shook their head, while some laughed.
‘For two years now, since 2012’ someone said.

He only had five hundred naira but there was nothing in the world that would make the newspaper part with him. The money was meant to feed him and his mother.
Not knowing what to do, he moved towards the vendor to return the paper.

‘Yeh- Yeh- look at,’ Olu shouted at the top of his voice. People had complained to him times without number that his voice was a natural megaphone. The readers looked at him and hurriedly looked at the place he pointed at. Luckily for him, a bike man (from the side
he pointed to) heard the noise also and lost concentration. He ran into a car. So, people focused on the man.

Seeing the opportunity, he ran with all his might like an elephant who escaped the zoo and was bent on getting to the forest that night. He climbed the flyover before anybody could realise it.
‘Thief. Catch him’ the paper vendor shouted and ran after Olu.

Olu sprinted off. His weight made the flyover squeak in pain but no one heard it. The only thing people heard was a man shouting at the top of his voice, chasing Olu. He preferred to be termed a thief than to release that newspaper. Even if his dead father promise to resurrect if he released the paper, he wouldn’t agree. He crossed to the other side of
Ajetunmobi bus stop. Luckily for him, a bus was waiting to move.

‘Panama bus stop’ He shouted at the top of his lungs the moment he entered the bus’.
‘Two hundred naira’
Thief people screamed from afar. He wouldn’t give it up.
‘150 na’
‘Why you no trek?’
‘Oya… Oya let’s go’. He looked at the other side and saw the vendor and some sympathisers crossing the road towards him.

‘Driver, go na’ He yelled as he poised himself to jump if the bus didn’t move.
‘Abeg, free me.Na your mama buy bus for me’ the driver said, Igbo language lacing his language.
‘If no be wetin dey do me, I for show you wen’, Olu said. His darted through the crowd, mapping out a way for him.
The men drew nearer.

‘Carry go ‘The conductor shouted and hit the side of the bus with vigour. Olu who was just about to jump from the bus held himself and held the edge of the bus as the driver sped off. He sighed.

The newspaper. He opened it again and smiled at it. He would be rich. His mother wouldn’t only enjoy, but she would also be a source of wealth to him.
He looked back again to be sure they had left the reach of his pursuers. He hummed Olamide’s Eni duro as the driver drove as though he was the one being pursued.

Passengers screamed and yelled for him to reduce his speed. But instead of answering them, he played one of his best Igbo highlife records, increased the volume, and accelerated as though the song was nicotine.
‘Bros.’ someone said to Olu.’ Can I see that
paper?’
‘No’.
‘Just for some min-‘
‘No… I said no… You don’t understand no’ He said and face the newspaper. Nobody should disturb him. He was laying down the most suitable plan and it was sure to work.

The person hissed. Olu looked at her, took in a deep breath, and growled.

‘What?’ The lady said. She was sitting beside a fair bald man who seemed to be lost in his thought. Olu loved that. Everyone should be in his or her place, enjoying the ride in the best way he or she could.

Normally, he would have appreciated her beauty but he wasn’t in need of beauty now. He needed money. After which, women could surface.

He rested his head on the chair in front of him, and imagined how it would look like to live in wealth.

Last two years when Matthias vied to be the president, he promised improvement. No one knew he meant in improvement in ones struggle. With everything in him, he was tired of struggling. He needed fresh cash.
He stared at the newspaper and smiled as the heat of the day licked his body. The only problem now was for his mother to agree. All he needed was her agreement. But she was adamant, and too uptight.

I will so take my time with this... Dedicated to

You

Happy New Month

.okay to spice this new month, let me tell you a story

Before modernization, Three brothers left Lagos and entered Black Town. The whole place was full of bushes till they got to a path that divided into three other paths.They decided to take a path each. The first went to the place called the future, the second went to the place called the past.
The last went to the present.
When the first got to the past the townsmen loaded him with loads of lessons and sorrow. He couldn't stop being depressed even as he sought for a better land. He moved till he got to the present by the time it was too late to enjoy anything the people could offer because he was too sad and tired to enjoy the present. He promised to go there to cry with them again.
While he was wallowing in the past, the second person who went to future returned, excited about what he saw though he was afraid of the trouble One would face before getting there. So he too embedded on his fear couldn't enjoy the present.
However, the one who went to the present enjoyed the day and decided to do that the next day. With what had been described about the future one needed Orisha Nla to go smoothly so why the fear?


Learn your lessons

Akintayo Akinjide.
www.nigerianwritershub.com

Many of us started here. So, I will plead with you to do something to Nigeria Literature. Encourage the writers here in way you can. This place is really dying. Obinnau is trying but like Adam he needs help.

You can pick one of us. You can bring an active mod from other sections. .
I trust you'll do what's best

yeparipa

I applied for a competition that requires likes through BBM to scale through the first stage. It's time to see the physical manifestation of your likes and comment. Thanks in advance for liking.

Paula smiled at the stupidity of her Aunt and
moved to the other part of the parlour. She just
wanted to escape before the fair, overripe, rich guy
made another advance towards her. If he did any
foolish thing again, she would spill her thoughts –
which was terrible. She was glad Biyi was coming.
Her Sunday would have been a hell.
‘ Paula’, her sister said, making her turn hurriedly.’
Bro. Biyi is outside’.
‘Oh.’ She said and a big smile laced her face.
Her valentine would make sense. Biyi was full of
surprises.
The chance had come to escape the pompous fool,
and her never-contented Aunt.
‘Paula, will you now leave him here’
‘Aunty, please don’t let me-‘ she said, hissed and
stormed out, banging the door behind her. Her
long dark hair flowed behind her, as she ran down
the stairs. Her body heaved with happiness.
‘ Biyi.Biyi.’
‘Hmm’, Biyi said. He rested against his black
Toyota Camry.
‘Whoa…’ She shouted as she got to the last step.
Not minding the drainage in front of her, she
jumped on him.
‘You look so happy to see me’, Biyi said.
‘Yes o. Aunty Kenny wants me to start a
relationship with Daddy’s friend’s son. They were
like, “you are growing old” that I’m a flower.
What’s their concern?’
‘Good’, Biyi said, sounding depressed.
‘Good?’
‘I wasn’t talking- See-‘ Biyi said and stood
straight. He held her cheeks.
She looked up at him. He was taller than she was.
His trimmed beard made her heart lurch for more
of him.
‘I think we’ve got to break up’.
Everything went silent. Paula stared at him, and
widened her eyes. Her hearing and other senses
focused on Biyi.
‘What? Why? What did I do wrong?’
‘It’s not you. It’s not you. It’s just that’. He hissed,
released her face, and turned. ‘I just can’t stand
you being my girlfriend anymore’.
Her eyes felt as though sands were in them.
Her heartbeat suddenly began to increase tempo.
And her body became hotter than before.
‘What did I do?’ She asked, tears flowing down her
face. She moved toward him, held his cloth and
her breath.
‘It’s not what you’ve done…’ He said, turning,’ It is
what you’ve not done. I don’t want you to be my
girlfriend anymore’.
He went down on his knee. Her mouth remained
opened. Her face was transfixed, not on his face,
not on his kneeling position. Rather, her eyes were
fixed on his hand. It contained a case and in it was
a proposal ring.
‘Will you break up with me as a girlfriend and be
my wife?’
The jewel on the ring shone. And she nodded. She
nodded again. And she nodded severally.
‘Yes…Yes…You idiot…Yes…’
Tears flowed down her face as she went to hug
him. She got the best Valentine gift ever.
Help this contestant win by liking this post on our
BBM Channel via C00396EEB, if you are reading
from mobile click: http://pin.bbm.com/C00396EEB
and also like on our Instagram Page @pen_a_story

An0nimus:
Hello Divepen1, good job with what you're doing.

Do permit me to give you an unsolicited advice: next time someone chats you up on writing but types in textspeak tell them to first write every word in full. They should endeavor to always type words in full when chatting, on Facebook, on NL, even when sending an sms.

It's a good way to start.

It feels like getting stabbed by a pen anytime I see someone who wants to be a writer typing in textspeak.

Thanks Boss. I think that's a very good one.

teechudleyy:
Wow. The first thing you need as a writer is the passion. Anyone that comes up with so much excuse is not after writing but after the monetary reward. When some of us are trying hard to write much or words and type faster and faster... someone is here saying 500 words is too much. Isnt that like the length of high school level english essay?

I wonder o. I write up 2k and try to beat d record daily.

RemenZack:
Thanks for the recognition I didn't even expect at all. I'm really pleased about this. We ought to write daily, especially if it's Fiction. It's called Fiction for a real reason.

Yes ooo