During an active gunfire in Libya against the rebels, we ran short of ammunition. All I now had with me was neatly polished dagger tucked into the leg of my Kaki trouser. The rebels were firing seriously at us, we were about four; a squad of Nigerian soldiers sent there for peace keeping. Two of my brothers were hausa, one Yoruba and only I a southerner. I was the only christian in their midst.

I did not fear death that much for I knew that even if I died, i'll go with my brothers. There is comfort in company, but my comfort was short-short lived. As we bent down under the barricade to shelter us from flying bullets, to contemplate our final moments, two of my brothers, the Hausas grabbed a black substance from their pockets, put it in their mouth and vanished into thin air.

There was no time to contemplate any shock. I turned to my Yoruba brother with an expression that asked if he saw what I had just seen. He smiled, brought out a small bottle and drank from it's content, he too vanished into thin air. I was now alone and the fear of death now gripped me. In that loneliness, my heart threatened to tear out of my chest. I looked to the heavens and hoped that God will make me vanish but I knew that was not going to happen.

The rebels drew closer and I could hear their boots shaking the sands beneath me. I got up and ran into a nearby bush and they chased after me with flying bullets. My ear was shot but I soldiered on, all and all in a long race for my life. I had heard of the black magic before but I had doubted it's potency. As I ran, I recalled how I was warned by relatives to be initiated into the dark arts for protection, and how I laughed over it. Regret and determination fueled my race and I soldiered on.

I came upon a banana plantation. The perfect camouflage for my colour. I slid in between and mumbled some prayer. I had a Gideon pocket bible with me so I placed it on my chest and prayed to the almighty to save me. The rebels came running by in troops. Scores by scores they passed until their numbers diminished. Then a single rebel armed with an AK47 passed by, he was the last, he was not even running, he spotted me and came right at with his gun...........

Continue reading in the link below
https://www.gistcover.com.ng/2022/03/story-of-my-life-in-libya.html

Last last, I know you are safe, you didn't die, because you are the same person written this story.

Stubborn82:
Last last, I know you are safe, you didn't die, because you are the same person written this story.

dumbass nigga
He's obviously promoting his blog wanting us to click

Its obviously a made up story
Stupid op

It’s good to know you’re the one writing the story, no need to get the full version…our God is alive!!!

Thank God you survived