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judinho07:
"hi frank hapi wknd..come and do wknd 4 us nah by updating new epịsode...waiting??!!!

Boss na there the story end oo.

Watch out for my new story

This one is going to be hot.
Rated 18+

It's dropping tomorrow(Monday).

No. 67 Upper Iweka Road.

(A short Story)
_____

It was twilight. It seemed like the clouds had gotten a sudden fascination to the moon and wrapped themselves around it. The moon's faint glow passed through them, coloring them white from grey. Twinkle stars dotted the sky.

This dude came out from nowhere and crossed the other lane. He soon found a girl and stopped.

Him: Please, can I use your phone to call my sister, my line has been barred—and I’m stranded.

She: (Murmurs something inaudible and walked past).

Loud music blasted from unseen stereo. People loitered around, minding their businesses and destination.

Him: (Walks away and suddenly halted before another girl).

She: (Stood still and roved her eyes like one in search of a coming Keke.. She had her bag slung over her shoulder).

Him: Please, can you do me a favor? I need to call my sister now. I’m stranded here and my line got barred by MTN due to NIN.

She: (Stares with pity—and the same time at him suspiciously).

Him: Please, just help me out. I can’t make calls.

She: (Stood still and still in doubts. But soon remembered a post she read days ago on Facebook that talked about helping strangers… “Humanity over Religion.”)

Him: I won’t exceed one minute. (He noticed she was going to succumb, she had that 'good person’ look on her face And he saw a smartphone on her left hand).

She: (Yet to utter a word. She placed her forefinger behind her phone and it unlocked in seconds).

Him: (Felt excited deep down. Finally found a good Samaritan, he thought to himself).

She: Please, be fast. I need to go. It’s late——She finally spoke in what seems like angelic voice. (Convinced by his appearance and his gentleman haircut, she stretched forward her phone).

People walked past. Cars and motorcycles drove past too. It was few minutes before 8pm. And the weather was clear.

He: Thank youuuu… Thank you so much. (Collects the phone and the feel was cool. A very nice phone. He starts dialing a random number)

She: (Looks left and right like one in search of Keke. She still had her eyes on him as he placed her phone to close his ear).

Him: (Looks the next direction. The phone beams light but seems not like it was connecting. He sighed slowly, feeling disappointed).

She: Hwfa? Has it connected? (She looked into her eyes but he quickly averted his).
Him: No. I think it’s network. (He placed the phone back to his left ear and looked the other direction again—avoiding eye contact with her.

She: (Beginning to feel uneasy. She felt something rather than what he thought he was doing but for the benefit of doubt, she stood at alert, should in case…)

Him: (Hissed at the second failed attempt to connect).

A Keke drove close just that moment. The Keke halted before them. There was no passenger in it.

She: Please, I need to go now. Let me enter this Keke now before it gets filled.
Him: (Suddenly turned, pushed her away and quickly hopped into the Keke. It drove off speedily). The Keke rumbled past along the rough cobbled street that stretch past the point an eye could not see.

She: Thiefffffff! My phoneeee! (She had goosebumps. Cold shivers ran down her spin as she stood helplessly and watched them drove through the empty road).

_____________

Again, for the third time in a month she watched herself broken for being good and having trust in random people. The first was at her place of business, the second was at the market and there she stood crying again. She had given out her phone, trying to help a stranger. Her Sim card gone, her documents and other unbacked stuffs gone.

She looked devastated and confused. Passersby had gather to hear her story but she was all tears. Phlegm clustered on her nose but she didn’t seemed to mind. “Aunty what happened?” asked one of them. She still didn’t have the strength to talk.
Still dumbfounded. It looked like she had been dreaming. How on earth did she fall for such trick? Her heart was pounding faster like her intestines were being cut off with a sharp object. She felt her stomach churning.

Finally, she was able to wipe her face. There was definitely not she could do about it, so she left the scene while they watched her. She walked absent minded along the road. There were thoughts that rushed through her head saying this and that.
She wished she could shut her brain for some minutes but if only wishes were horses..

She’s broken again for being a good Samaritan and it's quite unfortunate.

08-04-22
©️ Frank The Writer








Twitter & IG: frankwriter1

Follow my Facebook page for more stories.
Facebook: Frank The Writer

#storyteller

MoneyGoDrop:
Nice one frankwriter. Well ghosts i have never really encountered any but when i was in ss1 at the end of the first term,i was so sick that i was left in the hostel while all the other students were helping out in other part of the school. So i was left all alone in the hostel but i remembered i felt two people came and sat close to my head and when they started talking i remembered that they were completely different,like one was good and the other bad. There kept on arguing but i didn't join in their argument or open my eyes. Till date,i still feel goosebumps anytime i remembered that night because i never discovered the owners of those voices.

Menhnn... that was scary.

judinho07:
"having a tin wit a ghost in real life...meh'n i have not and i don't intend to...abeg'ooo ghost keee...aaaarh i no fit oọoh...lol??!!!

Lol.

If anyone had had any ghost experience, kindly share with us. We'd like to read your story too.



Thank y'all for engaging.

More stories coming soon.

Part 2

Fair warning: reading this scary haunted story in the dark or by yourself is likely to keep you up all night. Or, at least send a chill down your spine—even if you consider yourself the bravest of the brave.
[Winks]

This part 2 was not properly edited. I apologize for any typos and grammatical errors.


****
The following day, I was the last to leave the bed. After our usual morning devotion which was lead by my mom. I asked her if she heard any strange sound the previous night, she replied in the negative—likewise my brothers who felt it was only but hallucination when I shared my ordeal. Mom said it was insomnia but I knew it was none of the above. I still kept my cool tho.

That morning, we went about our morning rituals, and not long my brothers were set for school. Femi was in Ss3 while Olasile was in Ss1.
Before 8:30am the house became empty. Mom left for shop while she expected me to show up later in the day after cleaning the house.

After having my breakfast of pap and beans. I had a short rest, after which I swept the bedrooms and the living room before getting mopping stick to do justice to the tiled floors . There was power supply which made it fun and easier for me. I was a lover and of music. So, I switched on the home theater. Oamide's studio album; Carpe Diem blasted from the speakers while I vibed to the beat. It didn’t take long before I finished the house cleaning.

***
Outside the gate, I went outside to buy sachet water at the nearest provision store nearby. I had just stepped outside the gate when I sighted something rather strange.
There was a man who wore a white Jalamia. He stood by the gate side when I stepped out but I couldn’t see his face.
He literally backed me but I was interested in seeing his face; there was blood on his face, and the back of his head was missing.

The more effort I made to see his face the more he walked away from the gate. He looked outwardly normal but progressively getting denser and darker. He didn’t reciprocate to all my efforts to see his face.
I was going to call a random name, just then I opened my eyes and realized I had been dreaming.

I had dozed off on the sofa after cleaning the house. The highly regulated ceiling fan had dried the sweats in my body. I wiped my face—yawning tiredly, I stepped out of the living room. Looking down the staircase, I sighted a young boy in the compound. He was probably eighteen or less. I was moved to ask him questions. I climbed down the twisted staircase carefully, else I’d fall. I was on red sleeveless and a short black skirt.

“Hello,” I called his attention politely. He turned but gave me that look that literally justify: “I don’t even know you.”
“I’m Femi's sister,” I added, as though I read his mind. He then walked close and loosened his already frowned face.

“Good morning,” he muttered.
“Good morning. You didn’t go to school?” I asked, feeling concerned.
“Yes.” He nodded head in affirmation.
“You are done with school?”
“No. We are on midterm break,” he replied.
“Oh! Okay.”

It was time to ask my thought provoking question. I coughed and when I cleared throat: “Erm, please don’t be offended, there’s something I want to ask you,” I paused.

“Okay. Go on.”
“Hope you don’t mind?”
“If it’s something I can give answer to.”
“Ok.”
“Yeah.”
“Um, please, the previous tenant that lived in our flat, do you know why they packed out?”

He was puzzled by my question. He looked up in the direction of our flat as if trying to remember their faces or something close. I can’t really say.
“Um, a certain man and his newly wedded wife was the last tenant in that flat before your family came in,” he broke the short silence.

“Ok. So, why did they pack out? Do you have any idea?” I queried.
I knew I was already asking much and seemed so inquisitive but I still didn’t care.
“Um, one day, we had light issue and someone had to check the pole for us. He offered to help, that was how he got electrocuted. And unfortunately, he wasn’t rushed to the hospital on time, so he died.” He broke the ugly news. I felt a cold shiver down my spine.

“The wife?” I asked.
“I can’t tell where she might be now. All I know was the day she packed out, she was accompanied by two random people.”

“Okay. Thank you so much.” I said thereafter.
“Hope there is no problem?”
“Not at all.” I left.

***
Later when I shared the story with my mom, she didn’t seemed bothered about the paranormal activities that haunted me that night. My mom would always be like 'after death judgment comes.'
"But you know soul is immortal and not something given to "a selected few" soul does not die but lives on after shading the physical body through the process called death." I paused. Mom turned and was shocked by my response.
"Yes. Death is not finality. It's just a stench. People still lived on even when are gone." I added to her discomfort. Sadly, mom shunned me never to bring up such discussion.

believed in the existence of ghosts which I felt was haunting our flat. Mom was a believer. She disbelieved such things exists perhaps existed.

Thus, the paranormal activities didn’t stop after that very night I came back. I’d always notice some strange things anytime I was home, like someone opening the door, unusual giggle, and the door getting slammed shut, gentle wind blowing across the room occasionally at night.
Most disturbing encounter— was the sound of knocks on the door but getting to the door, no one was always there and it would feel like someone entered. I can’t really explain some of these things that always got me frozen.

There was a time I was home alone watching TV at the living room. I had bent down to check something on my phone—and on turning my face up, I noticed the channel had been changed on its own accord. Damn! That was the most scary part of the psychological and emotional torments I faced within the few days in that apartment. Sometimes the room was filled with intoxicating fragrance of perfumery.

Even though I enjoyed the quietness and serenity of the new apartment, I found it less interesting. There was no friends who came visiting, too. I badly wished my mom or my brothers could feel a tip of what I had been seeing lately, but sh*t was just happening to me alone.

Unfortunately, ASUU is not even making any plans of calling off the strike any time soon. For real, I’m tired of this unending horrific activities in our compound.

Anytime I set my eyes on our flat from outside, there’s a way my head swells up and I’d want to stay outside but we are stuck in here because my family recently moved in and nobody is ready to start searching for a new apartment solely because of my so called “Hallucination” as my mother termed it. I don’t know when this will pass but truth is, I’m making plans to return back to school while I fake the news that the strike had been called off. Will she get to find out?


I don’t know if anyone out there had encountered ghost before. I'm sure I'm not alone on this. Please share your experience(s) in the comment section.

Thank you, for engaging on my ghost story.
I'd like to read your comments.

Photo credit: Getty images
©️Franklin Chinonso Okoligan
All right reserved.


Twitter and IG: frankwriter1





Do well to like and follow my Facebook page for more stories.
Frank The Writer

#storyteller

judinho07:
"confirm??!!!

Yeahhhhhh.
Posting right away.

Haakeem:
seconded

Bosssss.

E ma bi nu oo�

MoneyGoDrop:
Frankwriter you started a new story and you didn't mention me . Well I'm already enjoying it so it up the good work

Ahhh! My boss. Boss no vex abeg.
I didn't see your WhatsApp message again.

judinho07:
"u welcome man..so when are expecting new update

Today.

judinho07:
"wot d fu£k...i love it when it get scaring...now u are giviñg me horror episode just 4 me to sit-down well..boom ur torey just end...but i give it to u nice write up...come back and update us...cause i fit vex lol..??!!!

Lol... sorry for the suspense.
More details coming soon bro.
Thank you for engaging

MetaPhysical:
Will you all please saying metaphyscal. Its spamming my mention box.

Just say paranormal.

For real?
But you weren't tagged?

Lakesc:
Seem interesting, following...

Yeah. It is.

Thank you for engaging.

Juliet751:
Wow.

Thanks.

Glad you enjoyed reading this

whalesbanks:
The metaphysical exists truly but most don’t know or those that know thought is nothing important
Continue

Yes. It does.

Thank you for engaging.

***The Ghost In Our Compound***

Not all our population are normal humans, there’s a handful of spiritual beings we interact with but think are just humans. Death is a stench. If you’re open to the metaphysical, you can literally perceive the stench of its impending presence around someone or a place.

Therefore, death doesn’t signify a finality. Life continues on the other side or planes of existence.

[An Excerpt]

****


Some years ago, my family and I once lived in Abeokuta, Ogun state capital.
The caretaker then in our former house on one Sunday evening, came with a quit notice letter while we happily watched one action movie in the living room. My mother met him outside and the conversation between them went thus:

“What have we done this time?” Asked mom when she was presented with the typed letter.
“Erm, nothing ma…” he paused.
“So?”
“It’s about the landlord.”
“What happened to him?” Mom queried speedily.

“Madam, he said he intends to renovate this building and put it out for sale,” announced the caretaker, Mr. Abiodun, father of two. He left when mom couldn’t say anything further.

That was just it! A quit notice because the house owner was probably tired of renting his house every year— and suddenly decided to sell the whole building. “He must have probably incurred a huge debt,” mom said. The news saddened us that we seemed to lost interest in the action filled movie. Mom sat thoughtfully on the sofa while we all stared lost at the tele.
Later at night, mom called Dad on phone—and informed him about the recent development.

This was happening mid July, and that was the season of rain. House hunting during this period was always a pain in the ass. We experienced it before and it was surely not an easy task. Personally, I hated rainy season — if not for anything, for always disrupting one’s planned activities. Well, that’s by the way.

A week later, we started house hunting. Abeokuta was quite a big City. Houses there were outrageous, unless you settled for the ones at rural areas. Some of them were still not affordable despite lacking power supply, adequate security and water supply. And we weren’t ready to settle for a low budget house. We equally involved few house agents around the town but they'd always end up taking us to one silly place that was totally out of site.

The search for a new apartment went on even when I returned back to Funaab for second semester. In less than five days after I resumed, I got a call from my younger brother; Femi, who happily informed me about the new apartment they eventually secured around Olomore. A storey building which had four flats; two bedroom flats each. The other three flats were occupied except the one they paid for: according to my brother who shared the story with me. He sounded excitedly and from his description of the new house, I felt like coming back home that week.

Mom called later in the evening and while we talked on phone, she said they had made the necessary arrangements; she had paid a painter to repaint the rooms which had been badly stained by the previous tenant. And they had equally packed out all the rubbish left in the house. Sunday evening was the day they planned to move in.

Hey! Sorry I didn’t even tell you about myself. My names are Adeola Olaniyi. A first year student at Federal University Of Agriculture, Abeokuta. (FUNAAB). I'm the second child in the family of four. My father’s replica. I turned twenty one last month.

My mother lived with my siblings in Abeokuta except Toluwalase, the eldest. He was a serving corp member in Kaduna. My father was a member of the Nigeria Police Force. They kept transferring him from one state to another; Kwara, Abuja, Ebonyi and finally Adamawa where he stayed longer. He visited Abeokuta once in a blue moon and it had been long since his last visit.

Fast forward to Sunday, my family moved to the newly secured apartment. It was such a big burden lifted off my mother’s neck. I knew how bothered she had been ever since Mr. Abiodun came with the quit notice.

****

Now, finally out of high school, a bevy of opportunities suddenly sprang themselves on me. I was faced with the questions of what and how to study, what to participate in, how to fend myself, how to accomplish my goals, but a few to mention. After struggling with these monumental questions, I realized that nothing had really changed. I was still that same person I had always been but was only presented with much more opportunities and room to grow.

My first semester on campus was not as planned. I was really stressed. My days were filled with new experiences, excitements and challenges. The stress of registration was the first hurdle that pissed me off. After queuing on a long line for so long, at the end, I’d be faced with an abrupt end of the day’s registration exercise which was done was in a week. It happened repeatedly, so I abandoned the whole process and left it hanging till the end of the semester.

In summary, I’d say my first semester in FUNAAB was the period I learned time management, how to deal with people of different opinions and how to deal with unending assignments with so many choking deadlines. Mehnnn… e really choke.

Second semester was going smoothly not until ASUU came with their indecisive strike which disrupted school activities. It’s really pathetic how this union had made this a yearly tradition. Let's not talk about the nonchalant attitude the Federal Government had always showed towards education in this country. It's so pitiful.

I called my mom and informed her about the ongoing strike, she advised that I come back until it was over. A part of me wasn’t really happy but going back to see the new apartment was something that lightened up my mind. The way and manner Femi described it was epic.

On Friday morning, I left school for home. I informed Femi I was coming and he was able to text me the direction to our new apartment. He even waited at the gate when I told him I was closer. The moment he saw me on bike, he smiled broadly, it was really contagious, I smiled back at him. I climbed down and paid the bike man while Femi carried my black echolac bag on his head like one village boy.

When finally I stepped my feet inside the compound, I felt some kind cold shiver down my spine. It was unusual. My brother noticed I was startled for some seconds, he turned and asked if I was fine. “Yes, I’m fine.” I pretended like I felt nothing. I look round the compound, it was as quite as a graveyard. Everyone must have gone out to work: I assumed. Deep down I knew what I felt; just the same feeling when I visited a friend who lost her mother. It always felt so scary and comforting.

Femi lead the way, I followed behind him as he headed towards our supposed new apartment. It had a twisted staircases, and that was the first thing I noticed as Femi and I climbed the stairs. I was very conscious so I wouldn’t fall. I held the welded iron firmly but Femi was used to it, he climbed it with an ease.

Truth be told, the flat was worth all the hype I got from Femi. I headed straight to the bedroom and dropped my small bag beside my echolac bag which Femi had dropped at a corner of the first room. There was power supply, water was rushing too. So I took a cool bath and slept off minutes later while my brother was seeing a movie in the living room.

Later in the evening, mom and Olasile the youngest returned home from shop. Mom was happy to see her daughter again. She only complained and made jest of how I had lost noticeable weight. My siblings and I all laughed over the joke she made in Yoruba. She was that jovial type but sometimes she was strict.
I was excited seeing my family again. Though the new apartment felt so strange, i I knew it would only take days or perhaps weeks until I get used to it.

When it was late at night, sleep was far from my eyes. I knew it was as a result of the long siesta I had during the day. Everyone was fast asleep but there I was still up with my fully charged S9.
12:30am, I was still up trying to download movies I’d watch later in the day
.
Around 12:55am, I heard a slight knock on the door. My heart skipped a bit. A strange chilling breeze was slowing. I beeped through the window but there was no figure at sight. The knock came the second time, I waited to see if mom or my brothers would wake up but nobody seemed to hear the knock. Femi and I was in the same room while mom shared the other room with Olasile.

I did summoned courage. So, I walked straight to the door, opened it immediately. Shockingly, nobody was in sight I perceived a smell like a cooking beans. It felt like someone entered. Frightfully, I closed the door and bolted it firmly. My heart pounded so fast while I returned hastily to the bedroom.

I had just laid on the bed when I heard a strange whining of the kitchen door followed by light split of the utensils. I was gripped with fears. My hands quickly reached for the fluffy pillow, with it I placed hard on my head, blocking my ears from hearing any further unpleasant sound.

The pillow embroidered by my late grandmother’s loving hand, and so its thread is her good wishes for my onwards future. My hands were on the pillow and I was on that position before I eventually dozed off.





To be continued...
©️FrankWriter1

Drop comments if you want more.


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Part 4 (End)



***
The following year, things got better. Towards the mid of the year, God miraculously blessed Danjuma with a lucrative business that changed our lives. He left Ore and moved down to Kano where he earned in hundreds of thousands monthly.

Left in the house were Gambo and his wife, Semilore and I.
That was when Semilore and I fully moved into Danjuma's room, we enjoyed our sleep on the comfort of his bed. Before then, we usually lay on the couch at the Sitting room every night.

Danjuma was too kind that he changed his brother's life too. He sent Gambo money regularly, and money for our upkeep he sent to Aminat.

With time, Gambo stopped selling suya too. He opened a fabric warehouse where he sold all kinds of fabrics.
That same year, Aminat came up with her prophecy. According to her, Allah ministered to her that we have got a brighter future ahead and so we should return to school and finish up.

Gambo never hesitated in making plans for this. He had always believed her wife’s prophecies. Aminat was so fervent in prayers and hears from Allah, that was according to Gambo.
Some people are angels and when you're lucky to meet them, they don't care what your tribe or religion before they help you.
Semilore and I were happy to return to school but sadly we were asked to repeat SS2. We hadn't finished same class before we left the orphanage.

After one year, we wrote our SSCE, had our valedictory party and left secondary school.
Semilore and I were among the candidates with the best results in our school.

We made A's and B's - Our school was very proud of us and likewise Gambo and his wife.
Aminat was very kind to us. She treated us like her own blood. We would always get clothes and shoes from her very Easter and Christmas even when our religion and beliefs differs.

Two years on, Semilore and I wrote Jamb and that was when we separated from each other to pursue our dreams.
Semilore ended up in Futo while I settled for Federal Poly. Nekede where I studied Mass Com. Semilore went for Petroleum Engineering for five years which was equal to my years in Poly. The two school ain't far from each other, so we saw each other on few occasions.

During our holidays, we would come back to help Gambo at the warehouse. We would work in one of the warehouse until holiday was over.
Gambo and Danjuma never stopped sending us money anytime we call on them. We lived better than most students who had parents. Yes, we never lacked anything while in school.

Gambo and Danjuma had this belief that Allah blessed them because they adopted us wholeheartedly and so they never stopped coming to our need anytime we called for assistance.
Semilore made first class while I graduated with second class upper after our five years in school.

Gambo already had two children while Danjuma got married at Kano the previous year before we graduated. We saw him last during our valedictory party when he visited Ore again.
That same year, we got the sad news about Muhammad and Hassan who died on their way to Lagos after they collided with another coming truck.

To abridge my story and save your time, after my youth service, I got work with a radio station in Lagos while Semilore got work at an oil company at Port Harcourt where he eventually moved on to live.

Even while we moved on with our lives, the relationship we had with Gambo and Danjuma still blossomed. They were happy how our lives turned out to be and we were glad they helped us reach the peak.

We maintained a good relationship. Obviously the hen does not forget who plucked it's feathers during the raining season.

So our story actually taught me the beauty in taking risk in life. Leaving the orphanage was the biggest risk but the wisest decision we ever made.

Our story also taught me that in life, we need each other to succeed. Nobody can do it alone. A tree cannot make a forest and likewise no man is an island.

Semilore was a tool to my destiny and likewise Danjuma, Gambo, Aminat and the late driver and his conductor - may their souls rest in peace - Amen!

So when there's a will, there surely will be a way. Don't let anyone deceive you. There is light of every dark tunnel for everyone.
Most times we only remain in the darkness of the tunnel because we are just too scared to approach the light. If we actually make a move we would surely be out of the tunnel.

When we fight over tribe or religion, we do so because we are largely ignorant of our existence and how God can use us as angels to help one another.

Humanity should always count because we are all one and the same before our maker. So let's unite, regardless of our race, tribe and religion.
"Humanity Over Religion" should be the watchword and our signatures.

This is the end of my story.
Unknown Destination is dedicated to everyone out there irrespective of tribe and religion, embrace every soul they come across knowing we are one before our maker. God bless!!.


*****************************
Let's do a quick review please.
If you actually read this story from the beginning to end, please drop a comment. Pleaseee......don't scroll down without a comment. �

There must be something you have learnt from this epistle.
Feel free to drop your review of the story.

Like, and Comment �
For more stories, like and follow my Facebook page: Frank The Writer.



©️FrankWriter1


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silverlinen:
Omo be like say i go rent 2 bedroom flat for here ooo.
OP oya make updates roll in oo.

Updates on the way.

MoneyGoDrop:
Another interesting piece!! Keep it up frankwriter.

Thank you.

Part 3

Danjuma and Gambo was glad to have us. Their warmth welcome, smiles and comforting words calmed my nerves.
According to them, we would have to stay with them until around 5am before we would all return to their apartment.
"Okay," Semilore and I chorused.

That night, Semilore and I slept on a long bench which was by the end of their shop. Our bags served as pillow as we held it like our lives depend on it. Not quite long, we slept off.

Two fat cows were at the roadside having a serious brawl, butting their horns in a test of strength. It was strange and intensive that it captured our attention. Semilore and I felt amazed, we opted out and moved closer to see things for ourselves.

Just the moment we approached closer, the cows stopped fighting and channeled their direction towards us looking fierce with their long sharpened horns.
My heart beat skipped, my skin almost left my body. We took on our heels immediately but yet they ran after us like a predator runs after its prey.
Fear gripped us. Chioma Ajunwa was our case, we ran like Usain Bolt without looking back.
But sadly for me, suddenly I hit my left foot against a big stone, I felled and stumbled so badly.
Turning back, the cow was running faster and closer. Semilore didn't notice I fell, he continued.

I tried standing up but my legs failed me. Guess what, I had a fractured leg already. The pain was intensive that I couldn't help but to scream as the cow was about five meters away. It then skipped higher with the intention to jump on me but only for me to realize it was all a nightmare as my eyes opened in shock.
My heart was beating faster. I heaved a big sigh of relief as it was just a dream.

Nightmare is something I experience anytime I sleep lying on my back with my face upwardly. It had happened severally at the orphanage that I realized it was all because of my sleeping position.
I turned to check on Semilore, he was snoring loudly and I couldn't catch a sleep till morning.

It was around 5:30am when we left Food Way Restaurant. The cock crowed severally, the cloud was still up as we all trekked. Danjuma and Gambo led the way while we followed.
My eyes were heavy; I was still feeling dizzy, I kept missing step as we followed the duo.

No. 5 Ajelanwa street was where Gambo and Danjuma reside.
Gambo opened the black gate that lead to the compound while we opted in.
At first I thought we would end up squatting in one room with them but what we saw was beyond our imagination.

A storey building surrounded by other houses with a well at the centre. It appeared in a square shape having three entrance and exit.
They occupied a two bedroom flat. It was well furnished with a plasma TV that hung at the centre of the Sitting room.
Danjuma took our bags inside the bedroom and showed us the bathroom.
"Call me if I want anything, I go bring am come", said Danjuma who had a better accent than Gambo who struggled to speak pidgin English.

As water gushed down on my head right inside the bathroom, the memories of the previous day filled my head; how we sneaked out of the orphanage, our encounter with Muhammad and Hassan and how we ended up with Gambo and Danjuma. I felt nostalgic.
Ajelanwa is a fast-paced, rowdy and busy area where people from different ethnic groups, tribe, religious differences, young and old but yet lived in peace and harmony. There’s always seems to be a frenetic pace to every activities on the street.
Experiences are unique to every human – beautiful, ugly, and the beautifully ugly (the oxymoron that keeps coming to mind while thinking of this street).
Perhaps, you can’t simply find a word or groups of words to explain the experience of those living in this street, you need to walk up to each person living in this street to reach an appropriate.
Fast forwarding, Gambo was married to Aminat who was always on "hijab" worn by Muslim faithful’s. Aminat was young, vibrant and beautiful diva whose accent was more like a British.
She welcomed us wholeheartedly having heard our pathetic tales.
Aminat was jovial and friendly too, she engaged Semilore and I in a long conversation that made us knew her better.
She had graduated from ABU, Zaria the previous year and was waiting patiently for Clarion call.

It was such a beautiful moment having heart to heart with her.
She was fond of ending everything she said with "Inshallah" which literally means "If God wills" or perhaps God willing.
Funny enough she promised to teach us Hausa since we could only relate in English.

The prospect of living with Gambo and Danjuma grew daily and was such an ease unlike the days at the orphanage.
Our daily routine here goes thus: wake up every morning, Semilore and I would say a quick prayer before going about our morning chores, sweeping the house, washing the dishes and other necessary domestic duties except cooking. Aminat was in charge of every single thing we ate.
We ate hausa’s delicacies too and with time we became used to Tuwo Shinkafa, Zogale (Moringa) Fura da nono (Yoghurt with millet) If you haven’t tasted any of these hausa’s delicacies, you are actually missing a lot.

Danjuma and Gambo was always consistence with their suya business and would sometimes ask us to go with them.
We were opportune to see Muhammad and Hassan again. I'm sure you haven't forgotten whom they're? The driver and his conductor.
They were happy we adhered to their advice. Thanked Gambo and Danjuma for the good work and encouraged them that Allah would surely bless them.




To be continued....
©️FrankWriter1

Do well to like and follow my Facebook page:
Frank The Writer.

Part 3 will be coming soon guys.
So sorry I have been busy lately.

MoneyGoDrop:
Nice one. Hausas are more accommodating than they look,once you don't use their women or disrespect their religion.

Frankwriter, I'm not on fb anymore.

Yes. They are really accommodating bro.


Alright, chat me up on WhatsApp
09063881724

Haakeem:
Nxt.

Coming soon bro.

Dunkjames5:
Nice one

Garcias

Part 2

It was drizzling when we finally made our way to the major road. Cars and trucks swooshed past. Loud music blasted from unseen stereo.
Semilore and I crossed over to the other side of the road where we found a shade under an elderly woman's umbrella who roasted corn by the roadside.

Unlike me, Semilore had some money with him. From his visits while at the orphanage he was able to save some money secretly.
"How much is your corn ma?" Semilore enquired.
"Fifty naira for one", replied the old woman as she continued to fan her red hot charcoal.

Semilore bought two; one for me and one for himself. The woman sold coconut too, so we used that to help ourselves while we waited for the rain to stop before we could continue our journey to the unknown.

"My children, where are you going to this late hour?" Asked the old woman.
"Ah! Shey na because we follow you buy corn you come dey ask us this question?" Semilore answered staring rudely at the old woman.
"Haba! That was harsh. That woman is old enough to be your mother naa", I replied lamely.

"Abegi, don't mind all these old women, most of them are witches and wizard looking for whom to devour, wetin concern her with our destination? Na hunger even make me stop by," Semilore lamented.
The old woman was just staring at us without uttering a word further.

"How much be your corn ma?" Another customer was already in front of her.

Not quite long, a long Dangote truck passed by and halted. I noticed Semilore had his attention towards the truck but my mind was on the roasted corn. I wished he ordered more as I was feeling famished but he was too busy observing the truck.
The other customer bought two and left without noticing how badly I wanted more as I continued to salivate. Poor me!

"Obed can you see that truck over there? The driver and the conductor just crossed the other side of the road", Semilore alerted me.
"So, what are you up to? What should we do?" I questioned in one breathe with a frown face.
I was seriously been dealt by hunger at that moment, my stomach churned continuously.
Not minding my worried look, Semilore drew me closer and whispered into my ear when he noticed the old woman still had her attention towards us.

I stared into Semilore's eyes literally demanding if we're heading the right way or perhaps doing the right thing. He just signaled and with an encouraging eye gesture and a thin smile which literally demand I come with him.

Fast forwarding...., Semilore and I sneaked into the truck when no one was watching. It was an empty truck but we could see some drops of cements and its bags at some side of the truck.
We sat quietly and crossed our legs.
"Where do you think they are going to?" I finally broke the silent that stood between Semilore and I.

"This truck is not going anywhere than Lagos, just be calm and optimistic, we'll be fine, God will protect us.
"Hmmm, protect us? When we left without having any destination in mind", I countered.
"Obed, please just stop. You can still go back to the orphanage, we're still close, as for me, I am not stepping out from here till we get to Lagos, I'm sure people will help us if we narrate our stories to them", he said and paused.

I was about replying but was suddenly held back by Semilore who obstructed my mouth with his right palm.
"Sshhhhh, they're coming", he alerted.
We remained calm and quiet like a newborn pussycat untill they entered the front side of the truck and in no time our journey out of Edo State began.
Semilore seemed calm and relaxed; he had his arms folded and his face casted down while I sat upright with myriads of thoughts that rushed through my head.

Nevertheless, I stayed hopeful and calm just like Semilore would always wanted me to be.
He actually knew more than I do. Semilore had been exposed to a lot while we were at the orphanage, so having him by my side was a boost of confidence.
The weather was cool as we journeyed and not quite long we dozed off.

When we arrived at Ore, that should be around 10pm or less. The truck stopped at one fast food restaurant. I guess they wanted to eat or refuel.
The conductor alighted from the truck, moved back and pointed his torch inside the truck and shockingly for him, he saw us sleeping in a corner of the truck.

"Subanalahi" he exclaimed rather surprisingly. Obviously they were from the northern part of the country. He quickly alerted the driver who was dumbfounded seeing Semilore and I inside the truck.
At this point, we were already woken up by their conversation in hausa.
My heartbeat skipped, I was startled and felt it was the end of the road for us but Semilore stared back at them with ease.
For like forty seconds, silence stood between us before the driver finally broke
the whist.

"I dey craze? Wetin I dey do for this place?" The driver lamented.
Semilore and I stared at each other but couldn't utter anything.
"I still dey look myself kwo? Oya come down", announced the conductor who pointed torch on us.
We carefully climbed down the truck, my heart was beating faster and this Semilore knew so well, so he took the mantle and boldly narrated our ordeals to the duo who eventually felt pity for us.

The conductor understood English better, so he did the necessary interpretation to the driver who was prone to hausa.
"I get am for name kwo?" The driver questioned.
"My name is Semilore and my brother is Obed", Semilore answered.
"I don eat kwo?" Asked the driver.
Semilore and I replied in unison that we had not eaten.
The duo took us to the nearest food seller where we were asked to order for anything we wish to eat.

That was the very first time we had such good meals without soliciting for it. Semilore ordered for fried rice and chicken. I wanted to go for egusi soup and eba but then I remembered the old woman and the soup at the orphanage, I got irritated and ended up eating same thing with Semilore.
They equally bought us suya and soft drinks. That night we came alive and refreshed again.

I never knew Hausas could be that caring and could have such spirit of hospitality.
Hassan is the driver's name while Muhammad was the conductor's name.
The duo spent almost thirty minutes interacting with their fellow brothers who sold suya there. Semilore and I just stood and stare, none of us understood what they were saying as they interacted in their dialect.
From the way the other hausa guys frequently stared at us while they talked, I felt they were discussing about Semilore and I but then we waited to see if we could continue the journey or not.

Moments later, the driver and his conductor invited us to a corner to have words with us. The conductor sat us down and gave us a long talk that changed our mindset from our desired destination.

According to the conductor if translated from his pidgin English, he said and I paraphrase,
"Lagos is not the best place for you to go. Nobody will help you there, people are scared of helping strangers this days. Besides, Lagos is overpopulated. You both might find it difficult to cope. If you go there, you will suffer. The people there will ask you to go to your parents and might not believe your story to be true. Lagos is like no man's land and everybody is after their business, so you might not be lucky to come across the good folks".

Semilore and I just stared into the thin air and couldn't utter a word. He continued:

"Where we are right now is Ore, here would be better to begin a new life if you both would agree to stay with my brothers, (pointed towards the boys selling suya) the cost of living here is cheaper and affordable.

My brothers could teach you how to sow and repair shoes, they could teach you how to amend clothes using hand sewing machine and you both can make ends meet from it. Life would surely be better here than Lagos", he emphasized.

His words of advice really sank deep into our bone marrows.
He asked if we can relate in Yoruba.
"No", we chorused.
"Obed what do you think?" Asked Semilore.
"Hmmm, do we have option?" I enquired as our eyes got locked in contact but Semilore was quick to avert his eyes.
"We should stay right?' Semilore questioned.
I nodded head in affirmation even while my heart was saying otherwise, I betrayed it right away.

Having accepted to settle with their brothers, they took us to the corner where their brothers stood and told them our fate.
Danjuma and Gambo as they introduced themselves while we told them our names too.
Dark and tall hausa boys possibly in their mid twenties. They seemed happy to have us around even though we weren't of the same tribe.

Before they left, they promised us that we would surely see them from time to time as Muhammad emphasized they would always stop by whenever they get to Ore.
Hassan assured us that their brothers would take care of us, accommodate us and help us start a new life. He gave Semilore and I five hundred naira each.

"Thank you so much ", we chorused.
He insisted we use it judiciously.
We responded positively by nodding our heads like agama lizard.

Semilore and I watched as they returned to the truck, it got ignited and zoomed off.
That was how our journey to Lagos got aborted as we settled with Danjuma and Gambo who sold suya at Food Way Restaurant, Ore.
Another phase of life just begun


To be continued...
©️FrankWriter1

______


Twitter and IG: frankwriter1

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If you're following, kindly drop a comment too.

Dunkjames5:
Interesting ride on pls

Thank you.

MoneyGoDrop:
frankwriter

Chaii... life of a boarder is quite an epic one. I was once a boarder too.

More updates coming soon.

Lol... I thought I already gave you location.

Yes it's quite a life though mine was hellish because it was a seminary school with sub human standard but we survived sha.

Now about the location,i don't think you know how rwady i am to pry out this location from you.

Smiles... let's connect on Facebook bro.

MoneyGoDrop:
Nice one frank. You just reminded me of the hellish years i spent in the boarding school. Please more updates.

PS:Frank, I'm still waiting for the asaba location

Chaii... life of a boarder is quite an epic one. I was once a boarder too.

More updates coming soon.

Lol... I thought I already gave you location.

Haakeem:
You did nt even bothered to mention me right!

Anyways...you got a nyc story here.. Nxt episode pls.

Sorry about that bro.


Thank you

Next episode will be posted today.

sweetonugbu:
Following

Alright champ.

***Unknown Destination***





That very day, the old Cook at the kitchen made us had a rethink and suddenly lost appetite. She was turning the boiling soup inside the big pot, our supposed dinner. Her mouth was running fast as she was busy talking to the next Cook by her left.
They were about five in number.
Semilore and I fixed our eyes on her. Suddenly, Semilore noticed something rather strange. Saliva dropped from her mouth into the pot of soup as if there was a burst tap in her throat.

[An Excerpt]

*****

Part 1

Life as an orphan in Edo State was a very tough one. It was a horrible experience that one could barely forget. Not a life I would wish anyone to pass through, if what I experienced years back is applicable to all the orphanage in the universe, then its a den on it own!

I lived it years ago and could still tell exactly how it hurts; the old memories and the hellish experiences we had to bear. The hunger, sadness, depression, restrictions, bullying but few to mention.
For me its like being dead alive. I live that life years ago. For some reasons best known to be I wish to withhold the name of this orphanage. Its located in Edo State, Benin precisely.

Everyday had the same routine and it all started with the annoying 5am wake up call. As usual, someone would have to wake us up - that was the norm. It was quite an experience I remembered. Most times you're tempted to sleep a bit for a few minute and then your houseman would come in and pull all your sheets out and reprimand you for staying in bed after the lights have gone.

Our morning routine goes thus: as soon as the wake up call ends, we assemble for morning devotion which normally last for twenty minutes or less. When this is over, we clean up rooms, prepare for school and ate breakfast.

Our breakfast was usually tea and bread and sometimes pap and watery beans.
At school we were not treated as individual, we were very easy to recognize, we suffered stigmatization. So disheartened how some folks in school abused us for something we didn't choose to be. Nobody choose to be an orphan. We were all victims of circumstances.
There was always ton of things to do after school; our after school routine was studying, more chores before dinner and finally bed time at 9pm.

I grew up at the orphanage not knowing whom my real parents were. The name "Obed" was given to me at the orphanage.
When I eventually made findings how I ended up at the orphanage, some workers would speculate that I was picked up under a bridge by a certain woman, having been abandoned by whoever that brought me into this world but yet nobody knew my real background and the rest became tales.

Liife at the orphanage was never a child's play. For every single thing we did involved cutting corners. We barely had enough to eat yet we moved about like we were living our best lives. Do we have option?
Even though I was surrounded by others in the children's home, I still felt alone. I felt I could be one of those children out there who enjoyed parental care, love and support.

Back then we received visitors from different places; ranging from individuals, organization, clubs, churches and mostly non governmental organizations.
Children's wears, provision and money were mostly accompanied by these visitations.
These visitations normally take place weekends, mostly on Sundays.

After some visitations, we stopped seeing some regular faces but little did it occur to us that they were been adopted by childless couple, mostly the affluent.

My childhood memories at the orphanage won't be complete if I fail to mention Semilore. He was my age mate and we were in the same classmate too. Slim and dark Yoruba boy.
Semilore was my very good friend, my closet pal and my accomplice.
Unlike me, Semilore's story differs. He had lost his mother at the clinic while giving birth to him. According to story, Semilore's mom would have become a single mother if she had won the battle but she joined her ancestors lately after delivery.

After she passed on, there was no one to care for little Semilore and he ended up at the orphanage.
I'm really glad and thankful our path crossed. Semilore was a major tool to my destiny and how life eventually turned out.

Semilore was given preferential treatment. Anytime things were being shared, he always get the best and it sparked a lot of jealousy amongst the orphans.
Every weekend, Semilore do not stay in the dorm as its a code of conduct of the orphanage that any member of the Church can seek an orphan's company during weekends. Semilore had visited many houses and places and I guess this led him to seeing things a kid should never see.

There were various factors that contributed to things he did but the major things were indecency and indulgence. Semilore was hardly corrected as he could be regarded as the golden boy of the orphanage.

We were in SS2 at the orphanage before Semilore persuaded me, he made me took a huge decision that turned out to be the best decision I had ever made in my entire life.
I'm sure you are already anxious to know what this decision could be?
Well, relax, calm your nerves and cross your fingers as I narrate my scintillating story.

Semilore and I were sixteen when we decided to remove the cloak of destitution and face life squarely. It still remain the turning point in my life and the wisest decision.
He had long complained to me how he detested the way and manner we were been treated at the orphanage.

According to him, we were been treated as slaves and it was very unfair. He hated being an orphan, he had always compared himself with the other children.

The major challenge at the orphanage was poor feeding. I had often wondered then why some people would eat only little food and get satisfied. Semilore had also wondered too. He was just an epitome of glutton. He was the second version of "Oliver Twist" always wanting more.
He had told me once that he had never had a full stomach. He would emphasize further that until his hand got tired of conveying the food from the plate to his mouth, he would always continue to eat.

One fateful evening, Semilore and I were opportune to come across the Cooks at the kitchen where our meals were being prepared.
He was feeling famished that he needed to eat something before dinner. He had summoned me to go with him to ask for something to hold him before dinner.

That very day, the old Cook at the kitchen made us had a rethink and suddenly lost appetite. She was turning the boiling soup inside the big pot, our supposed dinner. Her mouth was running fast as she was busy talking to the next Cook by her left.
They were about five in number.
Semilore and I fixed our eyes on her. Suddenly, Semilore noticed something rather strange. Saliva dropped from her mouth into the pot of soup as if there was a burst tap in her throat.

Obed can you see what is happening over there?" Semilore alerted.
"What's that?" I replied lamely.
"Just look at the way that woman's saliva has filled the pot"

Mere looking at her watery mouth made me sick and we suddenly lost appetite. Semilore and I involuntarily walked back, our legs mechanically led us back to the dorm.
See, most of these Cooks are old and sick. For the fact that we eat what they cook, we are very likely to share in their
misfortune since most illness are contagious", said Semilore when we got back to the dorm.

"Obviously, we're walking dead", I replied feeling so furious and worried. I suddenly had this urge to vomit, I felt feverish.
My response "walking dead" gave Semilore a goose bump that I could feel it from his facial expression.

Later in the night when it was time for dinner, Semilore and I felt reluctant to leave the dorm because of what we witnessed earlier. The thought of eating that soup irritated me that I couldn't imagine myself going for dinner too.

Obed, ain't you going for dinner? The Bell has gone already", Semilore announced.
"I rather sleep with empty stomach than taste that soup", I answered.
"See Obed, this is the best time for us to leave this place. I can't continue to bear this torture and hunger any more. We must elope, we must leave now",
Semilore uttered in one breathe.

I was puzzled by his response and he could see it through my widen eyes.
"What? Why are you staring like you didn't comprehend what I just said?" He questioned.
"Erm....erm", I stuttered.
"Obed if you actually meant what you said about not eating tonight, then join me let's take this decision and leave this place, do you want to die from starvation?"

Deep down I was willing to take that decision but the thought of our next possible destination got me dumbfounded.

Semilore, where do we go from here this night?" I uttered after rebooting myself like a corrupt system.
"Obed, you don't have to worry, let's just leave this den, my mind is made up already. C'mon we have lived here for good sixteen years, its time to leave", he added.

Long story short, that was the night we made that best decision of our lives. Semilore and I left the orphanage to change our stories and destinies.
We had successfully sneaked out when no one was watching. Semilore was the brain behind our plans.
We left with few of our belongings which was in our school bags.

It was around 8pm or thereabout. The street light was still illuminating, we could hear the night owls chirping. Major roads bubbled as people went about their normal activities.
It was a journey of unknown destination as Semilore and I slung our bags over the shoulder.

My heartbeat kept skipping but Semilore was the brave one. He led the way and encouraged me to remain calm as we walked.
"This is the beginning of the end", said Semilore, always the optimist.




To be continued..
©️FrankWriter1

_____

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[quote author=MoneyGoDrop post=110785158][/quote]Ok. But you still didn't tell me your surname?

Okoli?


About the bracelet.... erm, it's not advisable to get it. There are more to it than just the positive results it brings.