theorbiters:


Okay, that was after I got the error msg. So I shud just modify the one I put on the challenge thread shey? Thanks for ur leniency.

No worry jor. I've modified mine.

Lionize:
Hello Whitemosquito,
You only posted a fraction of my story, you didn't post the other paragraphs.

Lionize, that's exactly how it appears in my mail. Exactly.

You may post the entire thing on the Challenge thread.

theorbiters:


Excuse ma, I think I have made a mistake. I tried sending my topic to your mail then but was given an error msg. I tried it up to 3times but got the same error msgs. Now, I decided to put my own on the challenge thread but changed the content it contained. Now, you have just uploaded my piece I sent to your mail whereas I have already put one on the thread. With all humility, pls ma, what should I do? Shud I modify the one I put on the thread or what?

Oga, no come speak grammar jere. Have you forgotten that you pleaded with me to withdraw your first entry that you just realized that you wrote off topic? Like I said before, rules are rules. I'm sorry.

@chrisviral, when I said I was dissapointed you thought I was understating it, abi? Wait, you nefa see any thing yet....


Guys, that's as far as I can go tonight. Perhaps repogirl will be nice enough to continue from where I stopped. My battery's low on phone and Pc, I'm tired and slightly irritated by all the stress I have to go through to get the entries on the Challenge thread...and I've work to do.
Repo...please?

Monicker: rawjunc1
Tittle: right of passage

A rather lone howl raged on in my belly then an abrupt surge ensued, within seconds the "anal right of passage" eased through and I felt relieved. It was a silent nuke the sort that would awe any nasal observer and it sure awed the kid seated next to me, the kid reacted promptly by trying to block the skunk like smell from gaining passage into his nostrils but the stealth nuke eased through with every sense of urgency and deposited itself into the inner confines of the kids nasal corridors, I felt pity for him as his eyes popped out and his limbs got numb all in reaction to the smell of my lovely fart.

With a sudden and stern look the kid dashed me a wholesome "waka"(iya e) with all five fingers widely parted after which he said "e no go better for u", all because of one small mess I thought to myself. I dipped my fingers into my pocket and handed him a stale five naira note as a reprieve for sucking the acrid smell, I begged him to swallow back the curse but instead he reshaped the curse from "severe" to "less severe" by saying "e go better for u small" the little todd told me that was all my five naira could do for me. Since what I really wanted was a complete overhaul of the curse I offered him the last bleached five naira note with me, he took it and reversed the curse by saying "e go better for you" and I said a big amen to it.

I attribute my financial staleness,woes and troubles to my evil stepmother who practices an unpecuilar craft known as "witchcraft"(aje), she trailed me all the way to lagos.

I snapped a branch from a tree, stroke my head with it and threw it over my head, this would ward off my stepmother's curse or so I thought. I felt good in my well starched but low end white guinea fabric, then headed out to celebrate new year with the thought that my day would be awesome, right before me a tyre screeched, delved into a muddle and left me drenched in dirt, right then I knew my stepmother is still very active in my misfortunes but in the spirit of the yuletide I smiled and told the driver happy new year.

THE CHRISTMAS THAT CHANGED THE NEW YEAR by kuzaku

Your parents are Jehovah Witnesses and so your family never
celebrated Christmas. The Ojos next door did - they attended a
Protestant church down the road - and every year you watched the
celebrations through your room's window.

You wished your parents would celebrate Christmas or hang up
glittery decorations like the Ojos so you would have something to tell
your friends at school when everyone chattered about their Christmas
and New Year holidays, but there was something about your parents'
demeanour that made Christmas a taboo, an unspeakable topic. Your
father called it 'an idolatory festival', your mother twisted her lips
self-righteously and refused to accept Christmas meals from Mrs Ojo.

On the Christmas of the year you turned 11, you went to play at the
Ojos. Mrs Ojo smiled and served you jollof rice and you could not
resist. Halfway into your meal, there was a knock on their door. Even
before Mrs Ojo went to open the door, you knew it was your mother, and
a chilly fear enveloped you and made you drop your spoon with a loud
'clang' before you ran through their backdoor to your own house and
climbed into bed like you were fast asleep. When your mother stood
above your head, arms akimbo, the fear doubled and you almost shivered
when you thought of your punishment. Later, your mother told your
father - you knew because they had a long talk in the living room -
but he did not ask you in his rumbling voice why you ate 'idol food'
at the Ojos, he did not even punish you. Instead, he stared at you for
silently for long minutes before he asked you to go back to your room,
his lips stretched into a small bemused smile.

The next year, you turned 12, and two days to Christmas, your mother
hung a glittery decoration in front of the house. It read 'MERRY
CHRISTMAS & HAPPY NEW YEAR IN ADVANCE'. For a moment, you stared at
it, fascinated, and then you began to smile because you knew your
parents, like the Ojos, would celebrate Christmas and the new year
would no longer be spent at home emptily. All of a sudden, you had a
sudden to jump happily because you knew you would join your friends in
the conversation about Christmas and New Year holidays.

Therock5555

The Masquerade

"Damnmit, why won't this guys take this useless carnival celebrations to a safe place like the National stadium instead of allowing cars pile up behind their slow charade" Tunde complained as they moved slowly behind various colourful dressed dancers on new years day.

The trio of them were returning back from an all night party and were eager to get home quickly only to encounter a major traffic hold up, caused by the dancers and some Masquerades claded in white flowing robes and terrifying face mask which depicted various ugly faces. The Masquerades were the major cause of the slow traffic, they gyrated around the road and chased frequent passers-by and spectators, no car dared to overtake them because the consequences might be dire.

"There is nothing we could do about it, let's just be patient" John the driver advised.

"Patience? Impossible, that word is not in my dictionary. I have to tell those road blocking touts a piece of my mind" Tunde countered back.

"I would drop five thousand Naira to watch you try" David yawned out jokingly at the back seat.

"That's the spirit dude, let me prove to you guys that am not scared of youths like us dressed in dirty costumes, I know it's part of traditional celebrations but it's becoming stale. Watch me guys, just watch me" He replied and went out.

His friends watched expectantly, their hearts pounding and fists clenched in fear and maybe careless admiration for their ignorant colleague.

Tunde walked majestically towards the Masquerades, some people tried stopping him but he was adamant, he tapped the closest Masquerade who turned to see the fool who had the gust to tap him.

"please can you and your friends leave the road, it's causing a cruel traffic" He shouted above the noise.

"You say?" The bewildered Masquerade said, corking his ears with his fingers.

"I say make una comot from road... Arhhh" He screamed as the Masquerade cane landed harshly on his cleanly shaven head.

Like on cue, the others turned on him, raining him lashes upon lashes, he ran like his life depended on it, almost passing their vehicle in the process. His friends were bent double in laughter at the sight of his new designed body.

"Happy new year" The Masquerades chorused as they left him to chase more targets.

The End.

Blinded by Clarity by adjain

The cruel humor of life is barely scratched by the conjectures of mankind, and in Oshodi market on the 31st of December, life cracked another joke, to the resounding smattering of applause from the onlooking cosmos.
Everybody who knew him called him ‘Mopol’ because whenever he stepped into the market, people scampered. He had a leisurely ‘Americana’ gait, sashaying this way and that, his dirt-caked wrapper dragging in the hardened dirt like a parodied toga. His unwashed, crinkled face cracked into a smile – directed at no one in particular – and he picked at the day-old discarded tomatoes and fish before he turned, without ceremony, returning to his ‘base’ behind the general refuse dump.
Today however was different. Mopol had staggered into the market as he was wont to do, and people had fled – as they were wont to do, but today the market was jam-packed, as buxom mothers clutched their children about them and an equal number of New Year shopping bags. I was shopping with my mother that day, and there she stood, back turned to Mopol as she priced the pepper, tatashe and tomatoes.
He crept up to her and said (in English so perfect I was momentarily dazed) “excuse me, please, but do you know where I come from?”
My mother’s reaction: she dug her hand into the bag of powdered pepper, spun smartly around, and flung it his eyes.
I still remember his shrieks, a day later, as I watched my father say the New Year prayers. I remember how he stumbled away, crying loudly, breaking into stalls (where he was promptly kicked out). I wondered if the pepper had blinded him permanently.
I remember what he had asked. Excuse me, please, but do you know where I come from?
Was it possible that a man who had been insane for the better part of his life had suddenly come to his senses on New Year’s Eve, and had asked the first person he could find to point him home?
His new year’s resolution was to return home, my mind whispered to me.
“Chidi,” my mum called sternly. “Finish your soup.”
But it was already cold.

By kingnoel

Summary of my dating life….….I’m cursed .Every attempt to get a girlfriend ends in disaster.
Though just 19, i’ve had one girlfriend, Aminat....and that ended badly, she caught me with her Cousin. And since then,I've never successfully dated anyone.
I've visited countless native doctors but they keep saying nothing is wrong with me….but i believe aminat cursed me ,I would find a girl who would be attracted to me,but when i try to make a move,it'll end up in failure.

A nice girl in my department started giving me the green light, she would ask me for my
pen,touch me....you know,the works and all.

One day i decided to pedal to her hostel's gate to see her, make my move.
As i reached the gate,i saw her in the midst of about 10 girls,but because of fear,i don't know what happened to me,i suddenly grew afraid,my hands got shaky,eyes got dizzy,and i fell off my bike and flew to the floor,landing right in front of them
Mehn,see laughter,the way i was laughed at was beyond comparison, her friends kept laughing and no one even made a move to help me,I had to walk away in shame.

What about that other day mom and i were in a bus.

I was in the front chatting with a girl called magii, while my mum was at the last row
As we drew closer to the bus-stop I decided to use a sweet bass voice to finish her, i said to the driver "owa oh".
I said "owa oh". And expected him to stop at the next bustop,but he immediately hit the brakes and stopped by the road.
Me I kukuma came down because I didn't want to embarrass myself in the presence of Ifeoma... at least we could trek to the next bus stop and go home,afterall, I wasn’t far
That was how my mum just shouted
"Solomon,what are you doing,come on will u get back inside?

Mehnn,I gave her eyes,I was trynna tell her to just go with me like that but she no gree,she was still shouting
“u want to kill me bah?"

I had to get back into the bus

The driver was complaining,

Mum kept on shouting.

And when i turned to see magii’s face, she was shining her 32 and trying her best not to laugh…

Mehn,it was really bad sha,Though 2015 will be a great year.

Yes divepen.

Title-GREATNESS BY ROYALER.

"Nneka,nneka" he yelled
"were have all this kids gone to" he asked no one in particular. Coming out of his obi, he saw his second daughter Nneka making clay pot.He smiled at himself. He recalled when his late wife chidimma normally held her hands and taught her how to mould pots.
Looking at his right,he saw his youngest son obinna,who was just 12 years old making mats.
"i know my children will make me proud" he said beating his chest. He knew that it's what his late father
passed unto him that he and his late wife passed unto their children. It has been the culture of the ezenagu family to pass skills to their children which they believed would help them to sustain life someday. His first and second son had gone to haunt for their visitors. His eldest daughter adanna had gone with her aunt to get them. She was so hardworking both at home chores and in school. She won the last ukulu dance festival & won. This was a trait adanna got from her mother. He smiled to himself a

NEW YEAR GIFTS FOR THE POOR (By Simonhabby)

The Baale of Alapoti village collapsed on New Year day. That wasn’t the news. The news was that Madam Kofoworola Alade, the wife of the State Governor was at Alapoti on New Year day. She wasn’t there to celebrate, she was there to fight.

The poor have many things to look forward to in this New Year. Governor Alade had promised to focus on them.

“Next year will be all about the poor.” he had promised. “There will be unemployment allowance, homeless people’s home……”

So everybody that considered himself poor had reasons to look forward to the promises of the New Year with excitement.

Firstly, Alade would donate gifts to the poor on New Year day.

The gifts were purchased with funds from the state’s treasury to be donated to the people of Bodija village. Nobody asked why Bodija. Everybody knew why. Bodija was the homeland of Kofo, the first lady.

Kofo was Alade’s representative, and when it involved women, it involved glamour. The Bodija Chief was informed. The town crier went out. Kofo and her entourage arrived in customized ankara, with journalists, cameramen, paparazzi….

Bodija women put on aso-oke, the girls wore adire. The hunters were to have a gun dance. Everybody was excited.

As usual, something would always happen to delay events - African time. But what happened here was terrible - the gifts hadn’t arrived.

Prince Ademola, the Director of Operations, who was leading the team bringing the gifts got lost at Alapoti village. The GPS in his car had stopped working; it had never worked anyway.

“Please, where’s Bodija?” he asked a woman.

“Next village,” she replied, putting away her crying baby.

The boy was crying because he was hungry.

“Bring food for this boy,” Demola ordered.

He wasn’t the only hungry boy. Several eyes stared at them. They carried the same expression - hunger.

Demola satisfied them all. More came.

“Must we go to Bodija?” Demola asked. “These things are for the poor and the poor are plenty here.”

Nobody argued. They started distributing the gifts.

Bodija villagers were still dancing when they heard that their gifts had been distributed in Alapoti. Kofo got there furious. Confusion started. She slapped the chief and he collapsed. But Demola insisted he was right. The gifts were meant for the poor and he had given them to the poor. End of story.

*modified*

By akposb

Dennis paced up and down the tiled floor of " God's Mercy" laboratory. It was a location he felt uncomfortable in especially on the last day of the year.

He had lived in the city of Warri for ten years and made some success in his preparation for man-hood. He was twenty seven years old and his parents were eagerly waiting for him to bring his bride home. He had met Sandra who have been his lover for two years now. He had decided to formalise their union in the new year when she fell ill.
He feared pregnancy as she was suffering from severe headache, dizziness and weakness. He had decided they get the test done as soon as possible. He was wary of showing an already pregnant bride to his parents as he was not ready to confront their intense scrutiny and criticism. So many of his mates had gotten married in such manner but he knew it was not right. He was keen on defending their cultural values even if he had been sleeping with Sandra.
Sandra sat on a chair behind him with her head bowed, ostensibly lost in thought. She feared more for their image rather than the marriage as she was sure of it.
They were both lost in thoughts when the laboratory attendant came into sight. He was holding a white paper which Dennis felt was the result. He walked to him with Sandra trailing. The attendant took them to a corner of the reception.
" The pregnancy test result is negative but she is sick of malaria".
Dennis let out a gasp of delight while Sandra heaved a sigh of relief. It was indeed going to be a new year!

Tittle--My hope, my life by cykik
People
Ginikanwa Soludo
To
me
Dec 30, 2014
I dedicate this story to my best friend,her mum and her pastor. Though
short but it's my life story but not the ogbanje part o .just true
friendship and etc.
TITTLE : My hope, my life by cykik
MY HOPE, MY LIFE

It was 8pm already when I sat under the udara tree. I began
remembering those activities that made me happy.
As I watched the stars up in the sky, I remembered ujunwa my
best friend when I was an ogbanje. Everyone was scared of me. It was
believed that I had died and returned four times,no wonder I had
birthmarks. I could remember crying till my mum would come and console
me.
Ujunwa and I usually go to the ureke festival,watching children
dance the otongo dance,adult males performed wrestling matches & young
females the " on ye g'agba egwu dance as it was believed to attract
spouses to them.
I could also remember when the white men came to our village;
ozubulu village. Their aim was to convert us from idol worshippers to
Christians. My dad whom I called "Dede" was totally against it,
threatening anyone who chooses to be converted to a christian. Though
I can't remember how my dad got converted, I could remember how I
became delivered from the so called ogbanje spirit which had made me
bittered in the past. It was a thing of joy to me.
At night, I could change into different form without knowing
it. some how I felt my mum was even scared of me and I felt like
committing suicide a times.
As my dad told me that I was going to the church, I already
knew why. He and the catholic priest had discussed about my ogbanje
issue the previous day. That day was eke market day. As we approached
the church, the priest welcomed I & my dad. He asked me to kneel &
pray the sinners prayer & as I did, he sprinkled the holy water on my
body. Next I knew, I was on the ground. I couldn't
remember anything. The priest held me and told me it was okay that I
had been delivered of my ogbanje spirit. We thanked him and my dad
took me home.
"Adanne" my mum called to me bringing my lost thought to
earth. I noticed it was 10pm already. I went inside my room, played on
my bed and peeked at ujunwa who was snoring and I smiled. She's worth
the friendship.

Moniker: ashakemi

She was awed by the tender and yet emotional laden manner with which her ailing father tossed the divination pebbles, the sudden gust of strength that ushered out the pebbles from his frail and shaky palms, the abrupt halt the pebbles seemed to make only to be awaken from the slight halt as if possessed all delighted her. They were the epicentre of a falling religion termed "ifa" and yet they stood firm in its continuity.

Papa as she would fondly call him was all she had, she would clung to him like a limpet to a rock and in that adhesive moment they would share subtle emotional exchanges, he referred to her as Ashake, a complimentary tag that reminded him of her late mother. In a lingering outburst he would call out her personal panegyric to the delight of her twitch prone ears, he loved her and so did she.


He handed a splint of kolanut to her, they often shared kolanut moment and lengthy conversations, she was only sixteen with minuscule breast which was something short of an infant fist yet she interacted and exchanged ifa polemics with Papa in ways beyond the circle of her stunt and juvenile age.




What Asake lacked in voluminous bosoms was well compensated with bulky lips, ogre like appearance and a diminutive nose, she lacked a feminine direction coupled with no beguiling features. Being a hunch back imbued the thought that eledumare(God) moulded her while absent minded,her oddities were grossed up in a towering brain but still the aversive aura around her was the same.

Ashake had no social circle except her intense cordiality with Papa, her peers avoided her, she was an alien in a hostile niche, this scathed her inner essence and her gay ambience depleted into a gloomy one.

He choked on his own breath at the horrid sight of his dead daughter Ashake, apparently she wasn't a perfect fit for the world and had to leave it. She had doused her hunch in paraffin and lit it up. Papa slumped next to Ashake and journeyed with her.

*modified*

divepen, somethings wrong with your file. It aint opening.

Title: Afulu by anakadrian


Rough, rugged and ungainly; the tuber of yam lay seperate from the rest of the ingredients Naomi's mother had collected together on the floor within the smoke-filled kitchen with the low doorway and the dusty stools.

"Today, we are all going to eat Afulu" Naomi's mother had said

"Arh... fur... What?" Naomi had asked, genuinelyinterested.

It was the end of the year. Naomi had returned to Nigeria on holiday; on break from where she schooled inFrance. Sent off there to live with her aunt since she was five, every occasion that Naomi got to come back home was a treat.

This was especially so during Christmas, where she would get to see the village whenever they would, as her mother put it, "...travel to the East..."

Her cousins, Naomi missed badly. Come the first week of the new year, they would show her around the happening places, making her participate fully in every Uta that held.

"Afulu" Mother had said

Naomi's anticipation waned when sometime later she saw the spread on the kitchen floor; her enthusiasm reduced with each unsuccessful attempt to get the stove to light.

"I can't get this to work" Naomi said finally "That aside mum, I thought you said we were going to eat... erm... Ahfurlur"

"Yes, I did"

"But all I see here are ingredients for that soup you showed me the other day with some bitter leaves"

"Yes, Onugbu soup"

"Exactly mum, that's no Ahfuhlur"

"Afulu" her mother corrected

"Ah foo loo" Naomi said. Her mother smiled

"Yes, my dear, it's the same. While we eat Afulu, the whole family will come together to celebrate the coming year. We thank the Lord for blessing us, and we'll enjoy the Onugbu with some of this delicious yam"

"Are we gonna have to pound it?" Naomi said, her voice betraying a hint of unwillingness.

"No my dear, we don't have to... And we don't mix it in any sauce like when we did Ede Aro; the one with the cocoyam leaves, remember? We'll simply boil the yam and slice it up"

Naomi's face brightened. That sounded good. She pictured, as they ate, her and her cousins playfully ribbing each other; she giving back as much as she got, they ruthlessly teasing her with "yeah?"s and "innit?"s, all this amid the silent pleasure of mother's faint chuckles and grandma's toothless smiles.

Title: Chasing a Mirage by StealthIdeals

Sweat steamed profusely from beneath Omotara’s dermal layer as he effortlessly sought light relief from his ponderous unctuousness. As an Assistant Senior Prefect of his Oba Adeife Memorial College, Omotara commands little respect and accolades unlike Tinuomi, who was a cynosure of eyes in academic and debate activities among his contemporaries. Being the Senior Prefect, Tinuomi could easily reach into his ornate amoury and wield his power of oratory. Omotara was in search of an amour against such fate of low mental agility until the bitter end.
Omotara fell head over heel for Mosadomi Wemimo, a dainty teenager in possession of a gracefully slim figure; her head adorned with long natural hair that shine with metallic lustre, her mammalian dentition was almost homodont, and – to cap it all – her face looked ageless with marked expression of innocence. Omotara, on the hand, was an epitome of ugliness. He was lacking in physique, and with sun tanned skin. At first he was hesitant, but finally wooed Wemimo. She revealed to him that she was proud of him as the Assistant Senior Prefect of their school. He reasoned that for the damsel to love him as a result of his average mental capacity, the stunningly beautiful girl would worship him if he is as brilliant as Tinuomi – the most illustrious, ingenious ilk of Adeife fame.
As a staunch believer of superstition, Omotara sought help from three occult priests. They initiated him with incisions made with a sharp-edged axe of occult significance; and a bewitching soap to bath with at midnight in an open stream. He was promised unrivalled ability to dispense knowledge, and fame. He was not a glutinous lot that was hell bent on satisfying his taste bud; he was pushed by that masculine instinct: the ego of a hunter returning home with sizeable game animals for his wife, so that she can treat him to her culinary masterpiece. As he stepped into the designated stream by 1:00 ante meridian, Wemimo’s astral body surfaced from nowhere, gesturing to her lover to disembark from a mission that would claim her life if the bath was to be successful. Struck with bewilderment and fear, Omotara raced back home – mission unaccomplished. He was enchanted with insanity, because it was a taboo to stop what he started midway. He has forgotten so easily that crabs would blink before a man can get hold of a mirage.

EverestdeBliu:

What about those who submitted on the 'challenge thread',those this depict that, theirs wasn't acknowledged?

Theirs is automatically acknowledged. Don't worry, since it's already on the Challenge thread, there's no 'challenge'.

Repogirlie!!!! I owe you big. Thanks mama.
Muah.

repogirl:
Be like sey person try to hack into your account.... Na wa o

Repogirlie, I don't understand o. Can I give you my mail password, lets see if you can get in? The thing tire me.

phate4rmercury:
@whitemosquito
I posted mine on the contest thread. Hope it isn't illegal?

No, it isn't. That was the original idea.

To all contestants
I'm sorry for the delay in confirmation, I've been locked out of my yahoo account again. May have to use a PC to confirm. Gimme a few hours please.
Thank you.

To the first stage judges:
As soon as I can get into my mail, I'll paste all stories for the Challenge on the Main thread, then of course, your job begins.
May the best man win.
Cc Larry sun
repogirl
senbonzakurakageyoshi

Caracta, I see you. lol.

Fatalveli:
I've read and re-read the instructions several times but Damn! I just don't get it, I also wanna be part of this and I need a very good explanation for my little brain. Whitey, I'd be really glad if u can help.

I'm sorry sir, you're a bit late. Submission of entries have closed.

iamsegsy:
hello.....I must have sent my entry in the wrong way, I just copied and pasted it on the body section of the mail. should I resend it in .docx format? Thanks.

No, its even better for me like that..Thank you.

chrisviral:


M just seeing this now...
Why didn't you include all this in the main thread for the competition.. Mtcheeeeeew!
And I was writing off topic since!

And who said its not in the main thread? I really hope, for your sake, that hiss wasn't for me..
You people just jump at the mention of prizes without taking time to read instructions and understand the caveats, I'm sorry but there's nothing that can be done for you now. Your first entry stands.

Entry deadline is up by 10pm today!!!!!!!!

Confirmations will come in by noon...
Thank you.