₦airaland Forum

All my titles are free for four days. Go here: http://kachiugo.com/2015/07/28/all-titles-free-for-four-days/ to download any and all now!

You can download a PDF file or an epub or mobi for your smart devices. Happy reading! Be sure to rate and review the book as soon as you're done. Thanks!

KU

Dekatron:
Wow



In as much as i LOVE your works, YOU HAVE [b]NEVER[/b]completed a whole story here before. . . . Too bad. Seriously,i love ur 'shorty works'


Please send me the Pdf/E-book of the - 'To hunt a level 4 witch or something'. Need sometin to read on my laptop. Its not all about books and movies and all alone. Lol

Thanks

Sorry, man, i just saw this. You can download any of my titles for free at http://kachiugo.com/2015/07/28/all-titles-free-for-four-days/

Be sure to write me a review, though!

This June 12

Most of Nigeria has become a wasteland. Scores of men, women, and children have been slain by the five day sweep of a deadly viral plague. Now, anarchy reigns. The society has failed. Law and order and basic human amenities have become a distant utopian concept to the remnants of the scourging. But it has only been one week, and things are about to get worse because the virus is still mutating.

Kennedy Nwosu has found a cure for the virus: a serum that can confer immunity to the viral disease. He can save the remnants of the viral plague from falling to the virus. However, what he does not yet know is that he and his friends have come under the crosshairs of an assassin’s gun. The fate of Nigeria, and her heritage, rests on the shoulders of Kennedy and his cure. But before he can save the nation, he must first save himself. A trial has beset him: A trial by fire.

Available everywhere from June 12

Be sociable, share!

http://kachiugo.com/2015/06/08/cover-reveal-a-trial-by-fire/

THIS JUNE 12

The pile looked like a garbage dump. It had a wide circumference such that it supported a great height. There must have been over a hundred rotten bodies; bodies that were beyond recognition as being human. The skins were dark black, and areas that were exposed had a disgusting orange rather than the red that meant blood, as well as the occasional patches of white and green that meant mold and algae. Some had parts of their bodies chewed off by the hounds, others were missing hands and heads, but all hung from one another, forming a column that rose to the dark clouds, a pillar of great injustice, of purposeless death, and meaninglessness of humanity without dignity…

---

In the days that followed the court-martial, the nightmares came more vivid and more forceful. The pain of his sufferings rose high like the waves at the beach, only it did not subside, but rather it rose even higher on the next wave. And in his pain, he saw no light, no hope, he saw no redemption, though he sought it carefully with tears. What would become of him? Where was the devil, the apotheosis of nemesis? Where was God, the symbol of righteous judgment, for if any man had incurred the wrath of the most high, it was him: James O’Riley. Death was too easy; he deserved more…

---

A glint of recognition fleeted across its eyes, but then the savage beast returned with startling violence. It lurched at him from its position on the car with blinding speed. Ken reared on instinct. His legs caught on each other and he tripped, his gun flying out of his grip. The creature landed on the spot he had been a second ago, but before he leapt again, someone fired a shot. The slug smashed into Gerald’s skull, splattering brains all over the asphalt. The creature remained standing, its one remaining eye wide open in shock. Then it turned to face Mr. Ajayi as if it had only been hit by a fly. Half of its head was gone, still it began to walk towards Mr. Ajayi. After three steps, it broke into a run…

---

A TRIAL BY FIRE

They’ve found a cure, but can they get the cure to the infected before the infected become the damned?

…a trial has beset them: A trial by fire.

Available everywhere this June 12!

http://kachiugo.com/2015/05/31/a-trial-by-fire-a-sneak-peak/

Be sociable, Share!

To The Stars - Part 2

Copyright 2015
By Kachi Ugo

See Truth. Because before you know freedom, you must first know Truth
-Chi B

If you’ve never been to Nsukka before, don’t ever go there! Consider yourself warned. If you are a Jambite who is planning on filling UNN as their first choice university, don’t! I schooled there, and I can tell you now that it’s a terrible idea. Save yourself all the pain and heartbreaks and apply somewhere else. And to that guy in the back of the room waving and shouting: “THIS IS BAD PUBLICITY! THIS IS BAD PUBLICITY!! YOU’RE JUST SLANDERING THE SCHOOL BECAUSE YOU COULDN’T MAKE A DECENT GRADE!” I only have this to say to you: There is no such thing as bad publicity and in all my two years of studying mechanical engineering in the “den,” I maintained a perfect grade point average (in case you don’t know what that is, dumb ass, it means I had a 5.0 at the end of my second year second semester—and if you still don’t know what that means, sh*t face, it means I never had any grade other than an A+. Douche bag!). Arghhh!

Anyway, as I was saying. UNN? Bad idea.

Nsukka unfortunately sits on soft green hills in Central South Eastern Nigeria, tucked neatly between Udi hills and Awka. This is unfortunate because: such a fine location, yet such a piss poor city. Anyway, the only reason Nsukka is on the map is because UNN is situated there. And the only reason why Nsukka is in this tale is because that’s where my tragic end begins.

It began on a fine morning—yet, does not all evil begin as a seed of good? Is not hope the mother of desolation and sadness the seed of joy? It was a fine morning when I entered my academic adviser’s office, and he told me he had filled a transfer form for me. His office was about the same size as a broom cupboard except that there was a small window that over looked the huge Civil Engineering Complex.

“I hate to see geniuses like you waste away here in Nsukka,” Professor Attah said to me. He looked at me with hood-rimmed glasses, his piercing brown eyes regarding me with a mixture of pride and hurt. He sighed and flipped open a folder that had been sitting on his desk. He pulled out a single leaf of paper and motioned for me to take it. I had a stack of textbooks in my right hand, and I knew it was bad to collect something from my elder with my left hand, so I laboriously transferred the stack of my left hand.

All the while, Prof gazed at me, the paper still held out for me to take. Now, thinking back on that time in the small office in the Mechanical Engineering’s department building, I wish Prof had gotten annoyed at my clumsiness and withdrawn his offer. I wish I had somehow blown my chances with the Prof—I wish he had shouted me out of his office.

With my right hand now free, I took the paper and looked at it. The first thing that caught my attention was a three letter acronym: MIT, which stood for Massachusetts Institute of Technology. My heart was already racing when my eyes fell from the right corner of the paper to read the content of the document. MIT was my dream school. It was the foremost institute of science and technology in THE WORLD! Harvard doesn’t even begin to come close to MIT when it came to the number of Nobel Laureates in Chemistry, Mathematics, and Physics! How cool is that?

Naturally, anything about MIT excited me. I wasn’t ready for what I was about to read.

When I read to the last dot (the dot appended to the signature of the Dean of the department of Mechanical Engineering, MIT), I was trembling with fear. I was breathless. For a moment, a wave of dizziness washed over me and the books I held in my left hand fell off and slapped the ground with a startling sound. I tried to speak but I could not find my voice. I became uncomfortably aware of just how small my academic adviser’s broom cupboard was.

“Sir,” I started, my eyes slowly rising to meet the Professor’s flaccid gaze. “This is a … emm … it’s a … a …” My head spun.

“Yes, yes, yes, my boy,” the Prof replied, a nonchalance to his voice. “It’s an acceptance of your transfer to the department of Mechanical Engineering in MIT. Your visa is being processed by the embassy. You leave in two months.”

I still didn’t understand (that didn’t mean I wasn’t crazy excited!). “But sir, I never applied—”

“No, you didn’t,” the Prof said, cutting me off and attaching a mildly scornful look to his eyes. “None of you here have enough courage to dream. But you’re the best here. The brightest I’ve ever seen since … well, of course since me.”

People boast and exaggerate their pedigree. But everything Professor Attah had ever claimed to be, both in public lectures and in private adviser-advisee meetings, were accurate to the last letter, including his MIT B.Engr. degree and his Harvard Ph.D and his Professor Emeritus status at MIT. And especially his joint discovery of a new worm hole technology along with a chemistry Professor over at Princeton. Professor Attah was something of a legend at MIT and Harvard and Princeton. This was why it couldn’t have been too difficult for him to get me transferred to MIT’s Mech. Engr. Department. Of course, my 5.0 GPA didn’t hurt! This was also why I worshipped the man. I’d always dreamed of being like him, except for his broom cupboard, his atrocious sense of dressing, and his bushy white hair and beards that could have given Professor Wole Soyinka a run for his money.

Now a door stood before me; a door that led to boundless and limitless possibilities. All that was needed for me to gain entrance was to sign the column that signified that I accepted to leave Nsukka, Nigeria for Boston, America.

Even if I weren’t a lover of science and technology and Einstein and the unconquerable, unsolvable laws of advanced calculus; even if I weren’t a ridiculously handsome, typical Igbo boy; even if I weren’t a 5.0 star student of the university community, do you think this would have been much of a choice? I signed the hell out of that document and left the office in a hurry so that the Prof would not change his mind. It took me twenty minutes to get back to my room. During this time, I pinched myself severally, banged my hand against several light poles, struck my head (softly!) against several brick walls, and even jumped in front of a moving vehicle (thank goodness he was a good driver, if not, I might have been telling this story from yonder…) just to get myself to awake from my slumber—but, no! it wasn’t a dream. It was real—I was going to America to finish my B.Engr. program.

There was still tons of processing and paperwork and bureaucratic nightmares ahead, but I was going to America! And as sure as Suarez, two months later I found myself at the Muritala Muhammad Airport with my parents, some of my colleagues who had come to wish me good bye and good luck, Professor Attah, and some other high profile Professors from UNN.

Before I go on: yes, I’m a Barca fan. Men, did you see how they thrashed PSG?—hey, just because I’m in space doesn’t mean I don’t receive Super Sports. In fact, the pictures are clearer than when I watch it at Chika La Villa (if you’ve never been to UNN, you can’t possibly catch that reference).

We gathered around a small bar within Departure. I’d already checked my bag in, so I was set to go. In less than forty minutes, I would have to say my final goodbyes. But right now, we were all laughing at Professor Joseph’s joke about how he had fried a whole block’s electrical grid in San Francisco, when he had been helping some Ph.Ds fix a particle accelerator.

opalk:
9ce one

Thanks a lot!

eudoh940:
Fantastic, KachiUgo! Now, give us the story already!

Given!

Dekatron:
Hehehehehehehehehehehehe . . . . Drop am nah




now playing : Rich Gang - have it your way .

Kachi, why d punishment nah?

Lol!

To The Stars - Part 1

Copyright 2015
By Kachi Ugo

What is man save a vapor that is quickly unfurling into oblivion?
What is life save a transient moment?
- Chi B

Prologue:

I remembered reading in some huge manual some time ago that if the cockpit compartment becomes unusually very cold it means death is irrevocably few minutes away. Death by asphyxiation: Terrible! This was why when a chill penetrated my space suit and settled on my skin four minutes ago, I ceased my frantic efforts to revive the spaceship’s lifepod, I took the small recorder I had wedged between two large buttons on the right dashboard, and I sat on the floor with my back to the airlock.

Now, I’m looking up through the cockpit window and all I see is a vast and staggering number of stars. They are like glittering particles that have been sprinkled on a black background. Just off to the right I can see a part of the moon. It looks like a crescent moon, but it isn’t. It’s a full moon. Though all I see is a part of it. Notwithstanding, its beauty never ceases to astound me. As I lay with my back to the airlock, I’m not only marveling at the beauty of the heavens; I’m also wondering at what it would be like to grow old. I’m wondering at what it would be like to get married or have children. And with my cheek burning with embarrassment, I’m wondering what it would feel like to make love to a woman. Sadly, all these things I will never get to do because in the next seven hours I am going to die, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

That’s why I’m writing this. So you can know the truth. I’m sure that by now the government is already flooding the media with false reports to cover up what they had really intended to do up here—that failed; or rather, that I thwarted… You know, I will tell you the truth. I wish I had taken the bribe. I wish I had gone against all moral and ethical conduct. If I had, maybe I would right now be reentering the atmosphere with the rest of my crew, with our families waiting for us at the Kennedy Space Center in Merritt Island and our whole lives still ahead of us.

You know, we watch movies and get told stories about how a guy makes a tough and brave decision at the probable expense of his life and in the end survives and comes out the hero. Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but sh*t doesn’t always happen like that. Sometimes you stand for truth and morality and honestly, you get killed! Jesus got killed, didn’t he? But He stood for righteousness! Peter, James, and the lot of Jesus’s disciples got killed, didn’t they? Did they not stand for truth?

It’s too late for me now—too late to change my decision. But before I go, I want to do one more good, even though I don’t have to. I am going to tell you the truth.

Into my small recorder, I say, “My name is Chibuzor Mathew Nwike. I am twenty three, and I have a PhD in Astor Physics. My codename is ChiB, and my ID is X2NG419419.”

When I’m done telling you the truth, I am going to attach this recording to this letter, so that through the recording, you can confirm that I am indeed who I say I am and that what I’m about to tell you really happened. In the recording I have provided you with four information to confirm my identity: my full name, my degree, my ID, and my voice. I don’t know who you are, dear reader. I cannot tell where on the surface of the earth that my writing will land. But know this, I hold you in mind as I pen down these words even in my final moments in this life.

In this instance, I define the right hand as the one who is true at heart. The hand that wants to stand against injustice no matter how small, no matter how great. And I hope to god that this letter finds its way to the right hand. However, seeing as I cannot guarantee that this will find its way into the right hand, I’m left with only one thing: A plea. Help me, I beg you! Help me save my country. You don’t have to do anything, just let the world read this. Let the world know the truth.

A warning beep pulls my attention to a panel on the left ceiling. My oxygen level is seriously depleted. I now have six hours to live. So this account will be short. I promise you this, though: this tale only ends in bitterness and death as you have already probably deduced.

In case you are still wondering, yes, I’m currently in space! Yes, I’m a Nigerian! No, I wasn’t born in America, Britain, Russia, or one of the several other countries that have a thriving space program! I was born in a small town in Lagos State. No, I never schooled abroad—well…not exactly. I went to school at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka before I had to travel to Massachusetts because I had enough sense to dream. And yes, the whole of my crew is dead—four Americans, three Britons, two Russians, and one especially sexy Latino. I’m the only one alive, for now.

Before I write another word, I look back up to the star strewn heavens and sigh. With watery eyes, I add to my writing: don’t pity me. I do not want your pity. I am going to die. You are going to die. Hell, the whole goddamn earth is going to die! Big deal! All I want from you is for you to see… See why I had to do what I did. See Truth. Because before we know freedom, we must first know Truth.

This is my story:

opalk:
Bring it on...

Ok! Here goes...

The Hood is gone, but he left something better, someone darker ... Black Shadow.

He kills with clinical proficiency:

Shadowbean:
I'm in a dark room inside a navy ship on the lagoon. The guard doesn't know I'm here. I creep, towering above him before twisting his neck, then I move on- I'm a man on a mission.

He's a good cop gone rogue:

Shadowbean:
That's how I became a shadow for the black ops. I wanted to be a hero now I'm a criminal.

And yet, he loves with passion:

Shadowbean:
I met a lady undercover and fell in love with her, she says her name is Audrey.
"I would have loved been a journalist, you know, instead of this" said Audrey.

...Oh, I'm definitely following!

Alright, people! The stage is set. The story begins.

This might sound like a broken record, but for mercy's (and lunacy's) sake, I must resound my warning:

KachiUgo:
Before I begin this story, I must warn you. The events portrayed in this story are true. If you are weak of heart and feeble of mind, I strongly urge you to leave this thread now. However, if you are one who seeks Truth then by all means read on! Although, I cannot assure you that it is Truth you will find at the final words of this tale.

WARNING: The story you are about to read contains adult content. Readers' discretion is advised.

Lordfave:
We're still awaiting an update @ kachiugo pls try to post asap

Sorry to keep you waiting. I recently found a plot hole in the story that could fit, clean, a Bulldozer! Solved it already, though. I'm posting soon! Enjoy this one.

Dekatron:
Make i bend if i no follow. . . Lets go there. . . Wll request for the e book later. .to read on laptop . . . . HITTING THE FOLLOW BUTTON

LOL! I see you, Dekatron! I see you!! Enjoy this one.

Shadowbean:
Provided it's Kachiugo.

Damn right, it's KachiUgo! Loving your story - Operation: Black Shadow - already...

Optimall:
I wanna write stories.
At 13 I locally published my first book.
I think I lost all that inspiration.
Right now I wanna write a new,great story.
Somebody help fill me in..

First of all, let me say that I think it's exciting that you wanna write a 'new, great story'! Cultivate this desire, groom it, brood over it like a hen broods over her chick. Truth is there will be adversity, there will be times when you would hate what you write; at these times, it would be this desire that would see you through. Starting a new story is exhilarating and a cocktail of undiluted passion. But finishing a story is clinical and hard work.

That said, there are many things involved in our craft: Character, Plot, Setting, Dialogue, Wordsmithing etc, and your ability to dynamically weave these parts of fiction into a story makes you a master story teller. I cannot possibly tell you about say Plotting for example because there's so much to say. But the fastest way to get you up to par with writing your new, great story is 1. Read like Hell, and 2. Write like Hell. Every story is made of two parts: The Story itself and the writing--I'll talk more about this in a second post. Reading and constantly writing will help you improve the two, so that instead of always writing 'she walked sluggishly (or wearily) to the bath tub', you would write: 'she plodded (or trudged) to the bath tub'.

Writing stories can be fun. If you will keep at it, you're bound for greatness. Congratulations in advance!

KU

Before I begin this story, I must warn you. The events portrayed in this story are true. If you are weak of heart and feeble of mind, I strongly urge you to leave this thread now. However, if you are one who seeks Truth then by all means read on! Although, I cannot assure you that it is Truth you will find at the final words of this tale.

WARNING: The story you are about to read contains adult content. Readers' discretion is advised.

Dekatron, Meel, ritababe, kwencypresh, Emmeritus, Nostradamus, lenmafon, and Lordfave, I am inviting you to this thread where I intend to tell my next story in a serialized fashion. I do not know whether you enjoyed my last story, To Hunt A Level Four, but if you did, I hope you would enjoy this story even more. I'm sorry I ran off on you and published the book; I will send you a free copy upon your request! I appreciate your comments on my last thread, and I look forward to reading and responding to your comments on this thread!

Cheers!
Kachi Ugo

To The Stars
Copyright 2015
By Kachi Ugo

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, taping, or retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotes embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

For more information about Kachi Ugo, please visit: https://kachiugo.com

Absolutely Terrific, DanWrites!! Absolutely!!

Ooops! I published the book! That means no more updates, sorry.

Download Your Copy At:
http://kachiugo.com

I'll be starting a new story here that I'm so excited about. I have no intention of publishing it so I'll finish it here at Nairaland. Cheers!

lenmafon:
thanks 4 de update and pls can u make it regular? that way we wont be lost completely when reading a new update

Might not be able to do that. The book is already published. But I could send you a free copy. PM me your email.

To Hunt A Level Four - Final Part

Copyright 2015
By Kachi Ugo

Before they could bring their heads to follow his trajectory, he had already landed in the left center of the room, destroying the three hunters that stood there.

Jonathan grabbed Simon’s robes. “Get him and Scarlett out of here and warn the Elders. I won’t hold him back for long.” He let go and leapt into the air. Arrow leapt as well and they met in the middle with a sharp clash, an explosion, and a wail of pain: Arrow’s or Jonathan’s, Femi could not tell, because he was already bounding down the corridor to Scarlett’s room.

Simon stopped by the small room where the Elders met. “Go on,” he said to Femi. “I’ll meet you in just a second.”

There was a terrible explosion that rocked the whole church.

Femi burst through the door. Scarlett was astir. The red robe was gone, leaving her wearing a pair of leather pants, a white vest, and a black leather jacket. She stared at him a little surprised. “What’s happening outside?” Her voice was weak.

“Arrow has come. Jonathan is keeping him engaged until we can get the heck out of here.”

Her face turned ashen. “We’ve got to help him, then,” she muttered and started for the door.

Femi interposed himself in her path. “No we don’t. I know where the witch is located. Stop the witch and they’ll vanish, remember?”

Scarlett frowned, but she said nothing. She turned around in the room, her eyes scanning the barren walls with all concentration. Then her eyes fell on a door that was hidden from all save the most curious of glances.

“An emergency escape route,” Scarlett said and ambled towards the squat door. She crouched and reached for the door. Her hands punched the door and it fell inwards, revealing a dark, waist high passageway.

She was about to crawl into the opening when Femi said, “Aren’t we going to wait for Simon?”

There was another thunderous explosion that had them ducking instinctively.

“Scarlett pushed stray hair away from her face. “There’s another door just like this in the Elders’ room. Maybe he’s gone out with them.” And she was gone through the passage.

Femi took one last look at the closed door, hoping Simon would come through. He tried to listen for his footsteps. What he heard were yells and screams of pain. And a throaty laughter that was Arrow’s.

Femi ducked in the secret door and crawled along. The floor was sandy and the air was musty. He could hear Scarlett’s labored breathing out in the distance. He followed the sound until he bumped into her.

“Watch it!” Scarlett grumbled and continued on ahead. She stopped and Femi heard her fist strike something and light flooded the enclosure. Scarlett crawled into the open; Femi followed suit. They came into the backyard of the church.

“What next?” Femi said. He looked back and saw a column of smoke rising from the roof of the building. Aside from that, there was no other proof that their lives were in danger.

“Let’s go,” Scarlett said.

Femi glanced at her and saw she had her hands stretched towards him.

“Take my hands,” she said. “I’m going to try and get us out of here.”

“No way,” Femi said. “You’re too weak for that.”

Scarlett frowned. “You don’t have a choice, Femi.”

Then Simon came through the passageway. The moment he spotted them, a grave sound came to their ears. It was a shrill and dreadful sound.
It was Arrow calling out for them.

Simon ran over to them. He nodded at Scarlett. Scarlett nodded back. Then he joined hands with her and motioned for Femi to join hands. Femi joined and completed the circle.

Simon was panting, but then he silenced his breathing and shot Femi a wry smile. “This might be a shock.”

Then Femi felt a strong wave of nausea descend on him. His head spun so fast the whole world blurred. As the blurry world spun, the church exploded into shards of wood and cement, and a figure emerged out of the commotion and approached them with quick, long steps. Then, Femi collapsed to the floor and lost consciousness.

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I'll be updating soon, watch out!

To Hunt A Level Four - Part 10

Copyright 2015
By Kachi Ugo

Dedicated to Lordfave
...for bringing the witch hunters back

Simon, calm, replied, “This is Femi. He is a junior witch hunter. And on his shoulder is Scarlett. She seems to be badly hurt.”

“Scarlett?” David whispered. He slowly came to Femi and gently shifted her weight to his arms. “What happened?” David carried the body back to the door, where Simon opened it and they trooped into a dark and wet hallway.

“We were attacked by Destruction,” Femi replied. They passed an open doorway. Through this doorway, Femi saw, for a moment, a narrow long room, a narrow long table, and a number of middle aged people sitting around this table and deliberating in hushed, almost dreadful, tones a matter that was of the utmost importance.

Femi’s attention was called back to his explanation by Simon’s awry look and he continued, “Scarlett quoted about four, five verses of the scriptures to banish Destruction. After the creature was banished, she fainted, though not before telling me to come here searching for a Jonathan.”

They passed through another small door and came into a room. There was a bed and a table and a torch that lit the compartment. Aside from these, the room was empty. David laid the body on the bed.

“What does she want Jonathan to do?” David asked.

“She said he can locate the level four and that I can help him.”

David’s eyes widened. He looked at Scarlett’s form on the bed for a short while and whispered, “I told you I wasn’t sure it would work.” Then he looked at Femi. “I’m going to need a sample of your blood.”

Before Femi could protest, Simon said, “He’s Jonathan. If Scarlett says he can locate the witch, he can. Do what he says.”

Meanwhile, David (or Jonathan?) had retrieved a syringe from the drawer beneath the table and now waited for Femi’s response.

“What’s my blood got to do with the witch?”

“Simple. When the witch used her powers on you, she left traces of herself within your blood. I’m going to try and isolate these traces and use it to locate the witch.”

Femi stretched his hands before the man and let him slid the needle into his vain. The sharp sting was momentary and bright red blood pumped into the tube. David Jonathan removed the syringe and placed a piece of cotton wool on the spot. “Here, hold this,” he said.

Femi’s thumb pressed on the wool.

“Come,” Simon said, guiding him towards the door. “Let’s allow him work.”

Femi cast one last look on Scarlett, then he exited the room and trod down the wet hallway. They didn’t begin to talk until they were back in the church auditorium. They both sat on the first pew.

“Scarlett is twenty two. She’s part Nigerian and part American. Her mother was an indigene of Abia state who married a missionary from Boston. She was born in America and lived there most of her life. Two days ago, she came to Nigeria and warned us of a threat, one that we ignored because it was unsubstantiated. However, now that it is certain that a threat exists such as we’ve never dealt with before, the Elders, who you saw in that small room along the hallway, are deciding our next course of action.”

Femi shrugged. “Is she going to be alright?”

Simon seemed a little taken back by his comment. “Who?”

“Scarlett.”

“Oh, Scarlett,” Simon cleared his throat. “She should be. She’s just exhausted by that demonstration of power. It was much more than she was capable of. It’s a surprise that it even actually worked.” Simon cast a questioning gaze on Femi. “She must really feel something for you.”

Femi’s heart jerked once. “What … feeling?”

Simon shrugged. “You know, our greatest powers are manifested out of our desperate need to protect the ones we love. This is a lesson you must learn, Femi. Love can multiply a witch hunters powers by many folds. This may have been what happened with you and Scarlett.”

Femi still found it difficult to believe. As far as he was concerned, Scarlett detested him. They had only come to a compromise because they had a common enemy. The enemy of his enemy was his friend, this was their MO.

David came through the door. “She’s coming around,” he announced. “And I’ve located the witch. She’s in a village called Odim, somewhere in Nsukka.”

There was a sudden sound like an arrow zipping through the air, except it was multiplied, in terror, a hundred folds. The door imploded into the church with the force and sound of a detonated bomb. Simon and Femi shot to their feet and swung to face the open doorway. The flood of light chased to inexistence the shadows and darkness that had inhabited the sides and corners of the hall, revealing not five but fifteen senior witch hunters, whose blades were already blazing bright. Simon and Jonathan stood their grounds and watched the open doorway, however Femi unconsciously backpedaled towards the small door, overrun with a feeling of insufferable dread.

Like the shock-wave preceding a nuclear explosion, a horrific laughter burst into the church, sending the seven witch hunters closest to the door into the air. They were smashed into the pews by the same force that had picked them, either stunned or dead. The laughter came again: every furniture around the door exploded, sending sharp projectiles through the air. Four witch hunters failed to deflect the shrapnel and perished where they stood.

Then a figure emerged from the flood of light and stood in the doorway. It stood as a man, his features shrouded by the light.

“What are you?” yelled Simon in unruffled defiance.

“I am the Arrow that flieth by day,” was all he said before he vaulted into the air.

---

I'm done with this story and just recently started writing Biohazard: Book 2. That's taking a lot of my time right now, but I'll try to update more frequently. Witch hunters (the thoroughly edited version) will be available for download soon, though. Thanks, guyz!

PS: I'd love to know what you think... Let the comments rip!

Lordfave:
Guy update plz am so following diz

Sure! Soon! I had to take some time off to finish writing the story; I'm done, so you can expect an update very soon

To Hunt A Level Four - Part 9

Copyright 2015
By Kachi Ugo

Dedicated to lenmafon
...for her astute observation

As the last words left her mouth, so did she live the world of the conscious: with the soft exhalation of breath.

Femi laid her head to rest on the floor and sprung from his feet. He jumped over the chasm and made his way carefully to the parlor. Save for the deep trench in the floor, which revealed dark earth, and the crack in the wall, which revealed the street, his sitting room seemed untouched by Destruction’s presence. Femi located the keys to his 2009 Toyota Land Rover. He ran out the house, down the side of the building to where his car was parked, along the length of the building. From this side of the house, it didn’t look like anything had happened to the building. The vanilla paint hadn’t even cracked.

Femi entered the black car, powered it up, and drove it to the front of the house. He ran back into the white room, where he hoisted Scarlett’s form onto his shoulder and carried her into the car. When she was lying safely in the back of his car, he went back into his house to see what he could salvage from the mess.

Rubble littered the floor. Femi retrieved a black backpack from his room, which seemed to be intact, and packed a lot of money from his safe. He also packed two changes of clothes, his cell phone, a tooth brush, and his 9mm shot gun. His progress back to his car was slow as he took time to espy properly, the extent of damage Destruction had caused to the building.

It was extensive. Through the crack, he could see all the way across to the very end of the building, where a smaller bungalow was built.

Back outside, people had begun to notice the structural changes made to the building. Femi got into his car and drove out the compound. As he navigated the highway, he couldn’t help but feel that he was being followed. Two hours after Scarlett had given him the address, he got to Lagos Island, where the address Scarlett had given him was located. He met another traffic gridlock which he had to grind through before he exited the highway into a residential neighborhood.

It was a church.

It was a structure that spoke volumes. It spoke of a time lost, when it had hosted hundreds, who would come to worship God. It spoke of a time when children danced around its now desolate compound. It spoke of a time when the leaves where green and the windows gleamed in the rising sun. Now, it was a shadow of the past. A mere ghost no one sees or recognizes.

The church’s white walls had undergone a most horrid metamorphosis to the incredibly repulsive black and grey it now was. The structure seemed to be composed solely of ply wood that had rotted to the very core, hence, threatening a collapse. The yard around it had four spiny trees whose branches resembled the tentacle of a giant malevolent creature, whose purpose was to prey on the dying and the old. On this yard, black, crispy-looking leaves carpeted the floor so that it made the church look like a celestial dark house.

Femi would have drove on and forgotten the abandoned church had he not noticed Simon and two other strange men walking up the small path towards the old front door. They seemed to be doing so in a manner suggestive of secrecy. Their furtive eyes swept the surrounding houses and the street. Simon’s eyes fell on Femi’s passing vehicle, but since the vehicle was passing and its occupants prevented from view by the darkened windows, it didn’t hold his gaze for too long.

Femi made a circuit round the church and came to its door once more. By this time, the three men were gone. He pulled into the driveway and parked beside the church. Gently pulling Scarlett’s unconscious body from the car and placing it on his shoulders, he carried her to the front door and pushed it open. The moment the doors swung open, five bright blades were thrust to his face.

“Wait!”

The blades held, a fraction of a second from piercing his throat. Femi let out the air that had snagged somewhere along his respiratory tract. They looked young, and they all wore black robes, meaning they were senior hunters. Two were Caucasian males while the remaining three were black; though, Femi couldn’t tell where they were from. They looked like foreigners.

“He’s one of us.” Femi immediately recognized Simon’s voice, even before he saw him walk down the aisle to the door. The hunters scattered and disappeared back into the shadows.

Simon heaved a sigh and shot him a sharp gaze. Then he looked to the figure he carried and his look of irritation became overshadowed by fear.

“Scarlett,” he whispered and rushed to the door, where he checked her pulse for a moment. While he still ascertained her state of health, he said, “What happened? I told you to stay out of trouble.”

“She found me,” Femi replied. “We got attacked by Destruction.”

As if he had been hit by a ball, Simon jolted backwards a few feet. He glared at Simon for a full minute, then said, “Follow me. She’s barely alive.”

Femi hoisted her onto his shoulders properly and started down the aisle after Simon. The church auditorium was quite narrow. It had only one central aisle and four columns of pews. Much of the sides of the hall was hidden in the dark, which was where the hunters probably inhabited so as to observe what went on outside the building. Down the aisle to the podium and beyond, they came to a non-descript and almost imperceptible door by the side of the altar. There, they were met by a solitary figure, who sat before the door. He seemed to be in some form of trance as he had his head bowed.

“David,” Simon called.

The man snapped up and on seeing Femi, he shot to his feet. “Who is he? And who has he got on his shoulders?” His eyes glared with murderous intensity.

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lenmafon:
hi op nice story but dont u think femi's book should be white instead of black in color? i like ur story and patiently waiting for an update. cheers

It's interesting that you should say that lenmafon, because I never really did think too long about the color of the book--it just sort of came to my head as did the name 'Femi'! However, I'd like to know your thoughts on the matter--why do you think the book should be white?

Nostradamus:
update pls

Hi! I'm working hard on the update

Hi! Great read! Definitely following! The Hood!

To Hunt A Level Four – Part 8

Copyright 2015
by Kachi Ugo

“For who can stand before Destruction? Hath God not said it? Dust ye came from, to dust ye shall return. I am come to return you to dust. And so shall it be, that I return you to dust.” He laughed them to scorn—a sound most loud, most harsh, and most harrowing.

O for a thousand tongues to tell of the great terror that pervaded Femi’s soul! Terror so great that he did not realize when Scarlett wriggled his right arm to regain his attention. The mere proclamation of Destruction had forced upon himself a depression so great he struggled ten thousand leagues beneath its eternal weight. Indeed who could stand before Destruction? Indeed, who?

“Snap out of it, Femi!” Scarlett roared, a speck of desperation tainting her voice.

“Leave him!” Destruction boomed in reply. He smashed one feet into the ground and an earthquake immeasurable on the Richter scale shook the building. Splinters flew as darts everywhere. Loose cement fell to the ground. A gaping crack ran the length of the wall. The house divided along its center and separating, it revealed a deep chasm from which white smoke poured into the world. All these happened in a heartbeat, in a flurry that was beyond the grasp of the human mind. One moment, the house was whole, the next, it was a ruin—the result of a devastating war.

“Fear ye not my majesty?” His voice grew more enraged with each utterance. “Are you not terrified by my presence? Worship ye not the magnitude of my power?” Destruction laughed again and Femi could feel himself slinking back into shock.

Scarlett sprung to her feet. At first, she whirled around in the dense white smoke, which had placed in the realm of the unknown the exact location of Destruction. But then, she positioned herself in the direction where his voice had last reached to them from. All Femi could perceive of the hunter were her fists, which were symbols of her fearlessness—something Femi had kicked to the curb the moment Destruction made his appearance.

“He that dweleth in the secret place of the most high,” she said with a little caution, “shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.”

Destruction roared in laughter—so hard, that a slight tremor developed in the earth. “What is it ye folks say nowadays—are you kidding me?” He laughed hard again.

Not deterred, Scarlett continued. Femi could feel her power build. “I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in HIM will I trust.”

“And where is He now?” Destruction interrupted his fits of laughter to proclaim. Shortly after, he continued. Femi could imagine him laughing on his belly, enraptured in boisterous mirth. However, he felt like something was changing in the room, insidiously, surreptitiously, unrevealed and covered in a holy darkness, that change flourished.

Scarlett continued, “Surely He shall deliver me from the snare of the fowler and from the noisome pestilence.”

Destruction choked. There was a startling silence. A wind began to stir in the room.

Scarlett’s voice took on more strength and conviction. “He shall cover me with His feathers, and under His wings shall I trust: His truth shall be my shield and my buckler.”

“No—wait! What are you doing?” Fear filled Destruction’s voice.

“I shall not be afraid for the Terror by night—”

“No! Stop that!”—the wind grew to a noisome whirl.

“—nor for the Arrow that flieth by day.”

Destruction screamed in anger and fear and marched towards them. The smoke parted his way with forceful exertion, however, an invisible force got a hold of him and held him bound in unseen fetters. He struggled and experienced no avail.

Scarlett’s voice rose to a bellow. “Nor for the Pestilence that walketh in the darkness.”

“Wait! Speak it not!”

“Nor for the Destruction that wasteth at noonday!”

The roar of the hurricane in the room drowned her last words. The hurricane swept Destruction off the ground. The smoke, though it still veiled everything perceivable by sight, swung around Destruction with the speed and violence of the winds.

“I charge you in the name of God: be gone!”

The hurricane leapt to put into execution Scarlett’s command. It sprung off the ground and carried Destruction, who still screamed—bound—in fury, out of the room. Soon after, the smoke dissipated. Soon after, Scarlett collapsed into Femi’s hands, weak and falling unconscious. Her face had wetted with perspiration; every muscle was slack as though she was on the brink of death. The very breath of her nostrils were shallow and hot.

For a moment, Femi shifted his gaze from her pale face and swept in his surroundings. The room had totally cleared of the smoke: it was a sight of true and utter destruction, a scene of profound desolation. The house had separated along an axis less than four feet from him, revealing the parlor, the compound, and the street outside through a gaping crack. The crack ran for at least twenty feet into the ground, forming a chasm. Loose sand and rubble fell to the ground at the corners; the ceiling threatened to cave in. It would, Femi noted, in a few minutes.

Femi looked back down at Scarlett and saw that she had been looking on him the whole time. She smiled, her eyes drooping. “Twenty six, Allen Avenue. Take us there now.” She paused. Femi saw from the tightness at the corner of her eyes that each word she spoke required an exertion of strength. “Ask for Jonathan,” she breathed, “he can locate the witch and you can help him. Destruction will be back.” As the last words left her mouth, so did she live the world of the conscious: with the soft exhalation of breath.

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Don't know where to start? Try here: http://kachiugo.com/2015/02/14/to-hunt-a-level-four-part-1/

Meel:
Waiting for update o

Soon, Meel - Soon