₦airaland Forum

Ayodipths:
what an interestin story
am following you ojare, hope tuesday isn't tha late baah, me can't wait to read it.

Thanks for checking it out. Really appreciate it.

Excerpt to be released soon.

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dairykidd:
Interesting story

Thank you. I hope you'll come back for more?

Exclusive Fib and the Axe of fury Pre-order offer:

Grab this enthralling blend of vibrant fantasy and exotic African mythology (on sale for only 3$ before the 21st of June, 2019) and get the FIRST FIVE CHAPTERS, an EXTRA SHORT STORY, and an EXCLUSIVE high-res digital poster of the book cover.

“Never take your glasses off outside the walls of our home.”

When Fibikemi loses her glasses and inadvertently breaks her mother’s rule, she encounters something strange, and it is only the beginning of a weird and terrifying journey; in a matter of time, someone dangerous will come for her.

Her friend Aaron Oni has just two more months to live, and Fib’s obsession with saving Aaron pushes her to do the unimaginable.

Eventually, she discovers exactly why she must never take off her eyeglasses outside her home.

Fib and the Axe of Fury is an enthralling blend of vibrant fantasy and exotic African mythology.

Click on the link below to order from our website now!
http:///2WKG3n6


And click this link to check out the book trailer:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n8puSbogANs

Stumbling upon a reaper is weird. Having a vision of your classmate dying in a massacre is scary. Playing a teenage detective with a magical gift is tiring. Secrets are revealed, friends are lost and worst of all, trusts are broken.


Excerpt


"What did you do?"

"I wiped your memories... to protect you," my mother said in a shaky voice. "I cast a spell on your glasses… and your eyes too.”

"How did you do it? Why?" I whimpered. "You didn't wipe the memory of the accident...why? Why didn’t you make me forget those haunting memories?"

"I would never rub off the memory of your father. I was protecting you.” My mother’s voice softened. “I did this for you…to protect you…”

“How?”

“It’s a long story –”

“I want to know!”




The Girl called Fib and the Axe of Fury.

Chapter one comes up this night. I hope you'll enjoy it. Thanks for dropping by.

Lots of Love.
��

Esosa Kolawole

ADUKKY:
Welldone sosa993, bring it on.

Thank you!

To be published

Please, could you check out my short story on Okadabooks. Its free. Thank you.

https://okadabooks.com/search?term=The+end+of+me

ADVERT ALERT!!!!




Teni Coker's life used to be awesome until someone stuck a note to her gate. Don't marry him, it said.

She's not sure if it's a warning or a threat, but she's determined to find out before something gets out of hand.



The End Of Me




Hey there! The end of me will be available this evening. I'll share the link with you. Sorry I can't post the story on Nairaland for now. It's a short story for a flash fiction contest and I'll really appreciate if you check it out on OkadaBooks. No fees applied. Just a free download!

It going to be in the drama genre and once I upload I'll share.

Lots of Love��

Bluehaven:
Wednesday na TWO days ago o!!!

Really sorry it took so long. I was caught in a writing competition. Chapter four is up and next one comes up on Sunday

Sorry guys! I forgot to write chapter Four. That chapter up there is chapter four. Thanks.

More updates to come.

Treasurewamiri:
Can Baba Oyo truly leave Tella out of the will? or is Baba Majeogbe conniving with his son to swindle her? I must see the end of this

Good questions! Thanks for reading.

horlardipupo:
Nice story.. Update sharp sharp!!

Soon�☺

More updates to come

muhammed50:
Ok, no problem....
I started following you on Wattpad

Really. Thanks a lot. I'll go follow back.

muhammed50:
Wow!
So captivating!
How do I get the book?

Thank you☺ but for now, its only an except. You can check two short stories The Ant Queen and The house of Tiny people. There Téllà too all the stories are here on nairaland. Thank you.

This is an excerpt

novellas, novels and paranormal story writing tips then join my newsletter!

Plus you get a free ebook to help you through your paranormal writing journey.

https://pages.convertkit.com/641b101e4d/7fbd3c87c2

Treasurewamiri:
Can Baba Oyo truly leave Tella out of the will? or is Baba Majeogbe conniving with his son to swindle her? I must see the end of this

Lol. Some questions will be answered next chapter. Thanks for these fabulous questions.

ADUKKY:
Intriguing story, well-done.

Thanks for reading. I hope you'll be back for more this week!

What is a Street Team?

Wikipedia describes it this way: “A street team is a term used in marketing to describe a group of people who ‘hit the streets’ promoting an event or a product.”

I announced few weeks ago and I'm excited to tell you that the link is ready!

Here are things I hope we can all do together if you join my street team:

Opportunities to discuss the details of my book release and influence how things progress ( in return, I help out with yours)

Take part in a global book release party

Giveaways

Share advance reading copies

Books for those who want to leave reviews

In order words, I need your help for word-of-the-mouth, social media reviews and leaving book reviews on goodreads.

Here are things you'll gain if you join my street team!

A peek at my book cover (it's not out yet and I know it'll be super awesome)

Printable book marks, poster and other digital book swag

If you have an upcoming title we could swap-promote

Heres a WhatsApp link:

https:///D8upSwtv3rkJZNEYfA65aH

Thank you.

Also visit zumapublishing.com the Publishing house in charge of my title


Fib and the Axe of Fury

Aaron Oni has just two more months to live.

When Fibikemi lost her eyeglasses, a magical barrier protecting her from herself, she encounters something strange.

It’s only the beginning of a weird and terrifying journey and in a matter of time, someone dangerous will come for her. Her obsession with saving Aaron pushes her to do the unimaginable and eventually, she discovers exactly why she must never take off her eyeglasses outside her home.

Brilliantly paced, with a young, exciting heroine and a twisting, imaginative story line, Fib and the Axe of fury is a strange African mythological story.

I think you might like Fib and the Axe of fury because it is richly woven with African mythology and promotes culture.

If you are wondering what the story is about, you should be expecting, a mix of Percy Jackson series and Odd Thomas.

Treasurewamiri:
It's 11:45pm yet no update, kilode? Hope you're good OP?

I have my first comment. #Dancing

CHAPTER ONE

The year 2004 ended with loud cracks of colourful fireworks, bursting through the dark night and blooming amongst the stars.

I giggled at my parent’s lack of decency as one clung unto the other. I could tell they were whispering sweet things to each other’s ears because each time my father said something, my mother laughed. In my thirteen-year-old mind, I was not only glad to see them so happy but I was also eager to show off the colourful Alice bands my mother got me.

“Tèllà,” my mother called as she pulled away from my father. Grinning, she waved her hands, urging me to come forward.

My parents weren’t the only ones who were excited about the New Year; members of our church greeted one another. Parents hugged their children and for a moment, a twinge of jealousy hit me and I couldn’t help but wish mine had more children. Having a younger sibling to talk to would have been nice.

I once overheard my parents discussing her PCOS issue, and I couldn’t understand what it meant until years later. My mother had a secondary infertility problem. It was normal to be unhappy, but my father words always echoed in my mind, ‘be thankful for what you have. Sighing, I pushed the painful thoughts away before running towards them.

The humidity in the air rushed through my nostrils as the wind rippled through my clothes. As soon as I got close to them, I jumped on them; causing them to chuckle with amusement.

After some minutes of talking with the pastor about their plans for the church’s orphanage home, we walked back to our vehicle and we made our way into the busy highway.

First days of every year were the best, everywhere glittered with fireworks, street lights, and decorations from the Christmas holiday.

People were always nice to one another and one could feel the festivity in the air. Maybe people were nicer because they were thankful for making it into a new year. Maybe it was just the joy and the thrill that came with the New Year, either way; every January first was the best days for me.

It took us about ten minutes drive from the Akala highway down to Oluode area. When we finally turned into the bumpy road that led to Oluyole Street, a car ahead of us jerked a few times then slowed, blocking any car that would go in or out of the gated area. Two people came out of the vehicle. A bulky, tall man and a woman both walked towards the front of the car.

“What are they doing?” My father asked, not referring to anyone in particular. He squinted his eyes then slowed our vehicle too.

“We should check on them,” my mother replied. “The car must have broken down. Téllà, stay here. We’ll be back.”

The bulky man pointed the flashlight towards our vehicle making me shield my eyes from its glare. And that was when I heard it. The thundering sound of gunshots.

That moment, I knew it came from one direction. It froze me to a spot. I swallowed hard and took in what just happened. From the distance ahead, two men argued and upon glancing towards the direction of their voices, I realized the first two people that got down from the vehicle ahead weren’t a couple. They were both men. Quickly, I shut off of the driving lamp and crouched. Soon light footsteps approached, both from ahead and behind our vehicle.

“E be like say one pikin dey inside,” one hoarse voice spoke.

A figure hidden in the shadows pointed the flashlight above me. I shivered.

“Pikin dey here true true o. Shey make we finish am too?” another man shouted. I could tell the voice belonged to the one pointing the torchlight at me. It was way too close.

Tears flowed down my cheeks as so many thoughts went through my mind.

Will this be my last day?

As if my face was immersed in a pool, my breathing became deeper. Counting in my head for the moment the gun would go off and dig a hole in my skull. But no sound went off.

“Na the man and his wife be our problem. Leave the pikin make we comot,” another voice shouted, and the flaky memory shattered, bringing me back to the present day.

My parents were dead; a promising lawyer and a caterer’s life was cut short. Rumors flew around; people said my parents were killed because of a client my father was representing.

Baba Oyo, my grandfather, was dead. He died in his sleep and his burial service turned out like I pictured it to be; a sermon slower than a Keke napep, taking just as many unnecessary digressions, a poor quality pamphlet that contained depressing hymns and pictures that captured moments of Baba Oyo’s uneventful life.

“Téllà, someone elbowed me by the side.

I turned my face to see my husband looking at me with a scowl plastered on his face.

“You’re next,” he said in his usual monotonous tone.

I glanced around to see people’s eyes were on me. They gave me a look I could understand quite well–pity.

I thinned my lips into an angry line.

What will their pity do? Bring my parents back? Provide enough money to organize a befitting burial for my grandfather? What can they offer me?

I stood up, watching my feet take steps across the glossy tiles towards the altar. Taking my time, I looked at the faces again then returned my attention to the pamphlet in my hand.

“Baba Oyo became a mother and father when I was thirteen and not one day did he complain about how much of a burden I was,” I said in a low voice then coughed to make it louder.

The pamphlet in my hands shook along with my entire body. I couldn’t hear the tiniest bit of whisper but I could feel every pair of eyes on me.

“When my parents left this unfair world, Baba Oyo–my grandfather suffered a great loss.”

I couldn’t help but stumble over the word loss. God knew my family suffered too many losses. One of my grandfather’s brothers, a fifty-two-year-old, died only two months ago from injuries sustained from a fall from a tree.

The doctors said his wounds couldn’t heal due to his diabetes. But, it still baffled me that he died shortly after his fall. I was no medical personnel, so it was hard to tell if the wound truly killed him, if the fall itself did or if it was just the series of unfortunate events that clung onto our family. My grandmother died when I was fourteen, just a year after my own parents lost their lives.

They were losses. Great losses!

People called our family: the cursed family. It was sad, yet true. My grandparents had only my mother. All my grandfather’s brothers had similar issues, just a child. I had my fair share of the curse too. After all, my daughter was a sickle cell patient and I didn’t want to have more kids because of my fear of having more children like her.

“He was a person to depend on and was a constant supporting pillar to everyone around him.”

At that moment, I let my gaze linger over the church mourners before making eye contact with my husband again. He wore his emotionless expression as if it was an accessory he’d die if he didn’t use.

I wondered why he came for the burial service. Ayoni never liked my grandfather, and he did a good job keeping us apart after we got married.

Obviously, he didn’t come around to support me out of love. He only came so as to let people off his back. These days, he barely paid me attention talk more of showing me affection. His dark eyes stared at me as he scratched the back of his neck.

Desperate to break the staring contest between us, I looked to the other side of the church. Letting out a deep breath, I looked back at the pamphlet and tried to finish the scripted speech.

“Sun re Baba Oyo,” I rambled through the last words of the speech before getting off the church alter in my flat shoes.

Instead of going back to my seat, next to Ayoni and my daughter, Anu, I continued down the middle of the church, passing between the rows of benches until the warm afternoon air grazed my face.

Although, August came with persistent rainfall, the sky, a feathery shade of white looked good enough for a burial ceremony. I could only hope it’d stay that way until the end of the event. There was little to no money for a good party, a heavy downpour would worsen things for me.

Standing under the porch of the church, I searched for my phone then dialed the caterer I hired to cook for a few guests. But before it rang, heavy footsteps caught my attention.

“Téllà.”

I looked up to see a man staring down at me. He was handsome from the depth of his eyes to his gentle expressions. His mouth curled into a smile and I gasped. I would recognise that smile anywhere even though his face was covered with beards.

“Richard,” I said. “Wow! Long time no see.”

He maintained a smile then stretched his hand to greet me. I took it then dropped my hand.

“What…” I shook my head. “What are you doing here?”

“Mama told me,” he said and I nodded. Truly, his grandmother and my grandfather were in the same old people’s meeting in the area. “I came visiting. When I heard Baba’s burial was today, I decided to stop by.”

“Oh, thanks for coming,” my heart swelled. But then, my chest ached as memories came floating back. Our kiss, the good times and then our break up. His smile faded and I could guess he was thinking the same. “It’s… so good to see you again, Richard–“

“You should be inside,” Ayoni’s voice interrupted my words.

I turned to see him standing some few metres away from me. His deep voice lacked the life it used to have back when things were normal between us.

He gave Richard a once over then returned his attention to me.

“I should go,” Richard breathed then turned to leave.

“They need you inside,” Ayoni said again.

I wanted to snap at him. I always wondered why he constantly spoke to me that way, but I wouldn’t dare confront him. It would get me in trouble.

So instead of arguing, I stood up like the obedient wife and walked back into the church with him trailing behind.

Inside, the sermon already ended and people gathered in groups. A few people wore the blue Ankara I sold to them as aso ebi, but the majority wore different native attires.

When my eyes landed on recognizable faces which included my old classmates back in secondary school days, I approached and thanked them for taking out of their time to pay their last respect to my grandfather.

Baba Arogangan my grandfather’s best friend whom didn’t take his death well. He shed tears when I thanked him for his monetary contribution. He didn’t come around for the burial. Mostly because he couldn’t contain his grieve.

After burying my grandfather within his compound, feeding people who came for the reception and seeing Ayoni off to the park on his insistence to return to Ibadan, I laid next to my daughter and cried uncontrollably.

For a man as old as Baba Oyo, he died at the right age. It called for celebration but what was the use of celebrating when he had no children to bury him. The old man lived an unfulfilled life. I didn’t want such a life.

Signing, I yawned and shut my eyes, but after a few minutes, my eyes flew open. At first, I was unsure what to make of the noise, and it took longer than usual for me to detect where it came from. It sounded like tiny pebbles were thrown at the wall but soon escalated to ceramics shattering against the wall.

Is someone in the house?

My heart thumped against my chest, I swallowed hard and glanced at the window. The light of the day had faded away into a darkening blue haze.

Although the frogs croaked loudly, it didn’t cover up the strange sounds. As if whoever was disrupting the house moved from the kitchen to the sitting room, a scraping sound tore throughout the house.

Trying not to shake, I looked back at my daughter who was sleeping peacefully then toik a bold step out of bed. I found my grandfather’s walking stick next to the bed and thought it would be useful to destabilize the person disrupting the house. My walk through the dark corridor didn’t come as an easy task but it didn’t stop me from walking further.

When I made my way into the living room, the only source of light came from the rays of the moon.

With my heart beating against my chest and my legs shaking as if they were pinned in a bucket of ice, I half expected to see a jobless youth next to the television, trying to steal it away.

Instead, two white orbs shined through the darkness. It flickered like a dull, fluorescent light but soon brightened. I stood glued to a spot confused and scared at how this was possible.

They looked like someone’s eyes, yet were too large to fit into any sockets. As the orbs approached me, I moved back into the passage. The urge to run lingered in my mind, but if I ran it might chase me, besides Anu was inside the room.

What if it attacks her?

“The song…” a voice echoed, piercing my eardrums and sounding like there were millions of people in the living room with me.

Four more orbs beamed through the darkness. My eyes stayed glued to the orbs. I tried to stop myself from looking, but the more I tried, the more I got weak.

“The song…” came another whisper before the light flashed on.

“Thank goodness,” I exhaled then looked towards the direction of the orbs.

They were gone!

Releasing another sigh, I turned to leave but a loud thud made me jump a mile in the air. Whirling around, I prayed the orbs weren’t back.

Another thud echoed behind the closed doors of the room next to the dining table. With a large lump in my throat, I tiptoed towards the door. For all I knew, the white orbs could have reappeared in the storeroom, but once I pushed the door and switched on the bulb, nothing out of the ordinary sprang up.

The room was filled with different traveling bags. My eyes darted to the floor and next to a red bag was a guitar. I was unsure if it was all in my head, but I could’ve sworn the instrument started vibrating until my hands touched it.