₦airaland Forum

HumbledbYGrace:
Hello guys.
Divepen, you are doing a great job here, more grease to your elbow.

So how would the collabos work? Interested.

It's not a collabo. Will get to you soon

authorsegun:
divepen1, you're a kind man. Thanks for the info...God bless!

You're welcome..

calliope:
Okadabooks nko?

It's a book app. Not regular website...

dominique:
List incomplete without 360nobs.com. It was the site where I got to read works from talented writers like Toni Adesina, Sally Kenneth Dadzie Tomilola coco etc

Is it an eBook site or regular website

Entry 8

Toad Stew
I could remember back in 1985, my cousin and I lived at the Ogoja main market, Anambra . Mama Ekiti , as she was called owned a popular canteen, her food was so delicious that even the market lunatic who fed on trash came once in a while for a taste of her "magic cooking". Mama Ekiti had lots of customers from as far as the Akwa metropolis, many married men were ready to ditch their wives cooking to have dinner at her canteen. Oke (my cousin) and I were members of the Ogoja Youth Taskforce, we protected the market community from thieves and hoodlums who came at night to rob shops, in return the traders paid a " levy" of #10 every week. That week like every other Mama Ekiti refused to pay her levy again, she always claimed that she had no money to spare for us. No money? She had the most successful food business in the market, many times she had proven to be a shrew and insulted us in her dialect . These Yoruba people were too stingy, we needed to teach her a lesson.

Night came, Mama Ekiti and her girls had locked the canteen and were on their way home. At that hour many traders had left the market, it was almost empty. We were a team of six, I, Oke, and four members of the taskforce, we broke the padlock of the canteen door, three of us entered while another three waited outside to keep watch. In the kitchen, Mama Ekiti had a second hand Binatone freezer where she preserved some drinks and soup she would serve the next morning, to our delight we found a very big pot of chicken stew she had prepared before she left. We carried the stew pot from the freezer with a crate of beer, satisfied with our deed we left the canteen, everywhere was still the way we found it, of course except for the padlock.
That night we prepared a large bowl of "eba" enough for six hungry youths and warmed the stew under a stove, we grated okra into the stew. Believe me it was delicious, no chicken nor beef in the stew was spared, at the end we flushed everything down with some bottles. The next day we all had stomach aches, it was as if something was jumping inside our stomachs, to our deepest horror we began to vomit and stool toads! I could remember vomiting more than ten fat and slimy toads from my belly and some hoping out of my anus , it was three days of hell. Mama Ekiti acted as if no one had broken into her canteen, and continued business as always. Oke and I quit the taskforce, whenever someone says Mama Ekiti's cooking was magic I would just smile and agree, it was indeed magic..
Till today I don't eat chicken stew, sometimes I hear toads croaking in my head when I sleep. Maybe some toads are still living in my stomach.

Entry 7

HEARTBREAK 

"You don't have to do that," Sandra barked furiously, dropping the photograph on the table and hitting it carelessly. Her eyes are teary and her hair dishevelled.

Papers and clothes scattered across the room, and the large frame mirror that had previously hung aesthetically on a side of the room were now in pieces.

She sat on the floor with a note on her right hand side and a bottle slightly opened too. She had been like that for over an hour weeping.

Suddenly, her phone rang but she ignored. Then it rang again and again, and she reluctantly reached for the phone.

Samuel was the one calling. She yelled at the phone before switching it off.

With tears  streaming down her cheeks and no one to comfort her, she picked up the paper  and started writing:
"How could you have gone this far with Samuel? You are not even worthy to be called a mother again. Why must you have sex…"

When finished, she dropped the note on the floor, picked up the bottle and emptied the contents in her mouth. And after some while she started shaking hysterically and vomiting foam from her mouth.
She was dying slowly and no one was there to save her.
Her eyes were shutting and she was quickly loosing contact with the world.

Suddenly, a loud bang erupted from the door, and a silhouette of someone screaming her name loud was all she could see as she lost contact with the world.

Entry 6

You don't have an option son, you must become a lawyer. It's the family's business .The Legacy must continue." Wilson's father told him during dinner.

"Dad, does my opinion and happiness matter in this house? This isn't the path I want for myself. I've got no passion for it." Wilson replied.

It was their family's legacy. Their primogenitor was an influential, wealthy, and famous lawyer. It became the way of the family and was to be maintained by the first son of each generation (which Wilson was). But he was not ready to tow that path. He wanted to be a music artist but nobody supported him.

"Willie, are you alright?" asked his mum.

"No! I'm not," he shouted. "It has always been you, dad, the family's image and legacies. Nothing about me. I have my own life to live also. I've got my own dreams and goals too. And that's what I'm set on achieving from no........"

"Shut up!" His father shouted. "Ever thought of the life you're enjoying? The wealth, fame, respect and fear you get just because you're a member of this family? It is all because of The LEGACY. This topic is no more open for more opinions." he concluded.

Wilson stood up and walked out on his family, entered his car and zoomed off. Infuriated by his father's words and blinded by the echo in his head, "the legacy must continue!" He failed to realize that the truck in front of him had stopped. BOOM!

Entry 5

Palm Oil from the East

I woke up that morning to my sister saying that there was no palm oil in the house. What? Going out to buy things like that had been a task for the brave only. I happened to be sandwiched between two women who sold oil in my neighborhood. The last time I bought palm oil from one of them, I had to boil it just to melt it before use. Can you imagine? And the taste of it was like petrol mixed with termite-eaten raw beans.

I sat down on the couch and planned my escape to a nearby street to get what I wanted. An idea came to me. I slipped into my black trouser, collected a sky blue shirt from the hanger, and went out. The morning air was as clean as a virgin from Warri. It was the usual Lagos Environmental Sanitation day. Thank God. But wait. One of those women lived in an adjacent building. Who cares, anyway? Abegi.

Finally, I reached an intersection and, like an arrow shot from the trembling arms of a terrified hunter, I turned right and walked briskly. I found a half-open foodstuff store and sighed in relief.

“How much is the small bottle,” I asked the boy. He was obviously Igbo, Strong and healthy looking.

“Six hundred naira, brodaa,” he said with a boyish smile.

“Six gini?”

“This palm oil is from the east, oga.”

“Really? Then give me the one from the west.”

Nonsense.

Entry 4

My Teenage Holiday Deed

I have always adored the liberating calmness of the holidays. The air
smelt even fresher, and i would almost hear the tranquil melody of
freedom, from the vibrant nudges  its caressing currents. The grasses
rustled, and the trees swayed too, both yielding in submission to the
coercive wheedling of the air currents,like they were teaming up to
render a universal whisper of freedom. For me It was freedom indeed
from the mad, unpleasant raucousness of school.

This day was one of such. I was at the market. Mama's voice still in
my mind, "you can forget everything, but don't forget fish", I knew
already  from experience that it was merely her manner of speaking,
and didn't mean a license to forget anything, no matter how minute.

As I moved, I noticed a shadowy figure tagging closely behind, almost
touching. I turned to confirm, Only to behold the bloodshot eyes,the
tobacco stained teeth,the small tuft of hair at the center of the
Oblong,hairless mass that was his head.

" Child help me,I'm starving.

Were the words that came out of the throaty quiver.

I don't know for sure, why I did it, how I did it, but I was sure of my punishment. And while I went through it,I envisioned the stranger's face, his lips muttering blessings, his unsteady voice like fleeting echoes. I concluded I would do more in future, but this time, with my own money. thenceforth I felt heroic.

Entry 3
Over the years, I've always thought that i have no place in the society until i started to realise that my disability has been a blessing in disguise.
I belong to a family of four, consisting of my parents, my brother and me. There has been this tenet that certain people with disabilities are being underrated. As a result, i never had friends in school.
My parents didnt regard me underprivileged and their support really helped my growing up.
At 14, i started to face the music when i won a name for myself after our junior mock examinations. At first i was worried but after relaying to my parents. I was encouraged but i find it hard to make friends because none of them would want to mingle with me. One of them once told me, i can never be regarded as equals with them that i should have attended a special school for kids with disabilities. I became resolute and gradually i was in good graces with my teachers and few of my classmates. Everything started changing when they started coming to me demanding for help with assignments.
I never looked down on myself and i always want to achieve great things in life. My dream is to become a renown writer. Although i might not be a able to speak a word but i'll make sure that the world hears me through the words i write.

OMA4U:
Good morning, can I still join the competition? Divepen1

So sorry. Probably, the next one

Entry 2

Buck


Sometime in the year of our Lord, 1656, deep South of what would become the greatest union of states on earth, under one God, a slave committed the perfect crime ; an unpardonable sin, and would that it were true that the Almighty be the true judge, even he would have found it most difficult to save just this one man- if he could really be called a man in the same sense as Master Simons.


Buck was what they called " a recalcitrant nigger" in white parlance.; he was said to have been  the prince of an Island off the Guinean coast before his capture, and was a slave ever so regal, so majestic, even in captivity! He was of a good stock, very tall and well carved; his nose, particularly, was unlike the big flat noses of his fellows; it was sharp and aquiline-- Like a sword's edge . He was vastly handsome and successive masters hated him for it; their jealousy found the perfect expression through their whips and Buck, never one to be silent, rebelled as a slave could, earning himself sales from one master to the other, each successive one  harder than the previous. This was how Buck was sold, resold over and over till he found himself with Simons. But with this new master came a new duty for Buck: A duty so terrible it was the sweetest taboo. And today, they were about reaching the peak when Simons barged in on them.

peacesamuel94:
. Please sir send d mail to promisemed7. I lost my previous gmail.

So far you've seen this, there's no need to send a mail to you na

Youngzubi:
Hello Divepen1 good evening sir, i suggest you push this thread to front page at least to get people attention, and again most of the contestants didnt get any notification regarding the name mentioned, am just suggesting though

Wowww.. I'll send a mail to everyone I can..

soberdrunk:
Your writing style is not bad although your punctuation is a bit off because you seem to like 'fullstop' more than 'comma' but the major problem is the subject of the book. I personally don't reckon People will be rushing to buy a biography of an individual that isn't popular or hasn't done anything 'exceptional'........

I agree with you except it's a memoir that will touch a salient issue of life. This is not to discourage him.

All comments should be on the other thread.

https://www.nairaland.com/4780030/writertain-writers-league-instruction-discussion

Entry 1

MY FIRST BEATING ENCOUNTER IN SECONDARY SCHOOL. 

  

How did i manage to get myself into this mess? I began to ponder,the thought of receiving that miserable cane of pains from my form teacher shadowed my mind, just two weeks of resumption  in Great Mind International School as a new intake i already got myself into Mr fred's trouble.


 "who comes first!,  Mr Fred's voice echoed through the whole classroom

i was shocked when i saw the fierce look in his eyes, you all know my do and dont but you decided to do the  otherwise, and for that fact i will punish the both of you mercilessly, said Mr fred.


 "jide, dont worry i know of one magic like that, it will definitely make his beating painless just watch and see, emake whispered into my ears as he picked   two little stones and placed them in his armpits and step out, for a second i forget about my offense and mavel how emaka magic worked,he received all the lashes without shaking, everybody cheered him up as he walked majestically back to his back seat, then with all boldness i quickly picked up two stones just like emeka had done, i placed them in my armpits and walked straight to Mr fred's dangling cane, with hope that the cane won't hurt i stretched forth my hands and my back low and well positioned, "wow!" Mr Fred sigh and raised the cane 360 degrees as the class went silent, then like a cane of thunder so it was released on my back taaa!!!!



"jesus!!!!!! I screamed in pain as i couldn't feel my back anymore, i dashed outside with speed and the whole class burst into laughter, that was my first beating experience in secondary school, it wasn't good encounter though but had it been that i listened and didn't join emaka in cheating during our midweek test Mr Fred would have been my favorite teacher.

This thread is the place the judges would make their numerous picks

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Shewrites
Audreytimms
Royver

---

Sponsors Needed

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Only the judges and moderator can drop anything here until the round that allows contestants to drop it.
For next rounds, all contestants are to drop their work,comments and observation at this thread.
The instructions are also there and would be posted late

https://www.nairaland.com/4780030/writertain-writers-league-instruction-discussion

---

Contestants

Youngzubi
juininho
MisterRuk
meneski
GSteve001

Heryordele94
Daysam007
devilmaycry
DrDreWise
Kusibe77
Missnande

Thewriter2018
peacesamuel94
Generica
Firstgentleman1

olatunyemi
KimberlyWest
Tbekz
duch12
Jazmiynne

Frankenstein
babtoundey
spidey77
vivypretty
Divineroyalty
SenhorSean
OluwabuqqyYOLO

EVarn
piroux
rafindo
Atayis

juininho:
Sir Divepen sir, do the stories have to follow a particular theme?

Not necessarily ..

10 days to submission deadline

Youngzubi juininho MisterRuk meneski GSteve001
Heryordele94 Daysam007 devilmaycry DrDreWise Kusibe77 Missnande
Thewriter2018 peacesamuel94 Generica Firstgentleman1 olatunyemi KimberlyWest Tbekz duch12
Jazmiynne Frankenstein babtoundey spidey77 vivypretty Divineroyalty SenhorSean OluwabuqqyYOLO
EVarn piroux rafindo Atayis

TiffanyJ:
Divepen, it's been a while...how have you been?

Fineee.. And you.. We are hoping you guys will drop a short story (at least in December) but in a more organized way.

cuddlemii

Firestar
Princesa UjSizzles
Maclatunji

foxybone
Redmosquito whitemosquito


Obinnau
senbonzakurakageyoshi
Naptu2

frank317 VanTee20
Chumzypinky
PamelB
KimberlyWest
Flakkydagirl
MaziOmenuko
TiffanyJ
rachealfst
SheWrites
D9ty7
fiyah
flow1759
Oyinprince
marianneada
EvaJael


bibijay123
davidflo
chistar01
victvames
BiafraBushBoy
Lleigh
solomonbrown64
KingzPen
Bibi294
skarlett
PrettySpicey
glowingscenes
safarigirl
stefikal
Creeza
TemitopeDaniel

pabon
ClassCaptain
Godmother
Fantasyisland
Queenxstar
ghostwritter
Apollux
Clemzy16
SurestG
ESIXLOVE
rapmike
kizzykeziah
AustinBlinks
Eze2000



All these names. Compiling them brought tears to my eyes as I remembered how they took our imagination places. I almost stopped reading foreign books because I encountered their stories.
Let's get their thinking juice up again.

kingspen