October 11, 2021
As I write to you, sleep no longer makes love with me under the blanket of my eyes. Into the future I stare through the pages of your life these past years. Silence glues to my mouth's rooftop but I still, still write. My white paper unevenly stretched upon my bedside table lacks the courage to communicate to the energy, ripple hot, boiling in my veins, but I still, still write. I write to remind my future months that my now is hotly in chase after him.
I know you've fallen several times. Why did you fall? Wrong question! Rise again! Not once should you let your back remain on the ground. Once? Not once!
If a child falls, he immediately stands up and begins running again. But if an adult falls, he checks around to see what made him fall. What made you fall Izu? Those mistakes, those mis-steps, those wrong risks, those... whatever it is, don't let them define you, Izu. Keep moving. Mistakes are only a part of life and not the determinant of your end. Keep moving!
Men, youths, men.
Women, youths, women.
All. All. All.
Look and see persons whose feet can't be calculated on the sand of time as they run past you. Don't be bothered. Don't be bothered. Don't be, Izu. Life is in stages. One, two, three. Three. Two. One. And you don't fly the staircase to get to your destination, do you? Keep on following the process Izu. That process may not be convenient but it will produce proceeds that will inconvenience your storeroom. Where you are now is only but a revelation of the much you'd become tomorrow.
Don't give up the process yet. Orange sits on the high table of the King because it went through the process of crushing. Gold becomes necklace, beautiful and admirable, on a Queen's neck because it went through the process of fire. Izu, those failures, mistakes, setbacks, mis-steps, trying times, moments of wanting to throw in the towel, are your process. If you lose it, you lose it.
Every athlete gets to the finish line, don't they? What matters is not who got there first but how they got there. And how you get there is your process! Your time may come in the next six months but before it comes, be sure you're preparing real hard and not running on another's lane.
Your name has spread to many houses you don't even know of. Your books spread a red carpet whenever you walk the online streets. Your public speeches has touched the destiny of men, even yet unborn. Keep moving; that's not the end. There's still room for more. Leave your name printed on the walls of time, forever. For ever! Touch the world with your books and words and the boots of your life; that's where you would be in the later, starting from now!
The only difference between where you are now and where you should be is consistency. And that is one code that never walks out the door of your lips. I commend you for that! Izu, keep being consistent; your results will double!
Keep on striving for more personal development. Upgrade. Build your system. And like I've always told you, three principles that make you: GRACE, CONSISTENCY, HARDWORK. Print them on the tables of your heart. Let them be the Google maps to your future.
It is also not my desire for you to tiptoe through life into death without making impact, without being heard, without touching lives, without... This is why you were created, Izu. Just as a little reminder: when a product doesn't perform the reason for it's creation, what happens?
Well Izu, I couldn't wait that long before you answer me... Sleep has finally made its way to the doorstep of my eyes. See you in the later!
Till I write to you again.
Your other half.
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by Joy Okwori, published 1 month ago
I was once imprisoned by words whose aura is darkness. I was held down in this prison by unfriendly forces, so I sat on a stool of uncertainty as I held the moon.
I crawled through the night with gritted teeth, like one with no hope. And I couldn't dance because shackles held my feet.
Yesterday was once, today doesn't make it twice. I breakout, I don't belong to prison; the Judge said so. I smelt like rotten tomatoes, frail from tireless torture.
The Judge beckoned with open arms, and I ran with the speed of light. My accusers didn't know what crime to nail me with. The Judge knew what currency to bail me with; the blood.
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by eli-smooth, published 2 months, 4 weeks ago
The ride down the empty hill felt like a deluge. Five people cramped into an old Peugeot 504. The car jolted its way down the rough terrain and with each sharp turn, their eyes narrowed with despair.
The driver was Kelechi, a 22 year old medical student who had joined the fraternity about a month ago. His low hanging beard chiseled into his sharp jaw-line. The scar that was above his eye gave him a menacing look.
“How could this happen?” He wondered as he drove through the rickety slope. His eyes squinted a little as he swerved to avoid a goat that had moved into their path. The sudden swerve forced the engine to quake mildly and shut down.
They all moved out into the open space.
Silence lingered for a while.
“What do we do now?” Simi asked. Her dark skin glistening under the low light of orange setting sun. She was a psychology student. Brilliant but edgy; unwilling to succumb to the wild stereotypes that followed the other women in her life.
“We do nothing; we just bury the body where no one can find it” Sam whispered coldly.
Leah winced and paced the space around them, sobbing gently as she walked from side to side. She seemed the most distraught of the five. She wondered how different the day before had been and wondered if her life would ever be the same.
But it was the fifth person who seemed the most odd.
His tattoos were visible under the sleeveless shirt he had on. A nose piercing marked him out from the rest of them. He barely talked as the others encircled the empty bushes around. He just leaned on the car and peacefully disappeared into his thoughts.
“We were only supposed to scare him” Simi lamented. Her voice seemed to echo a distant regret.
“I keep asking what happened and no one wants to tell me. We were all on the same plan but as soon as I turn to take a leak, I return and find a fucking dead body on the floor. What happened while I was gone?” Kelechi asked. He seemed to be screaming at everyone else.
“Is it that important? Would you rather not have the truth be a little subdued from your conscience now?” Goni, the boy with the tattoos whispered back at Kelechi. His voice was cold, almost haunting.
“I don’t know. I didn’t sign up for this.” Kelechi confessed.
“Oh, so you think we all woke up and planned a murder and you were the only person out of the loop?” Simi asked angrily.
Kelechi looked away. His hands shaking under the weight of his deepest thoughts.
Sam chuckled slyly as he watched Leah’s wandering theatrics. He seemed calmer than he was a few minutes ago.
“The truth is right here. Whatever we say it is” Sam cuts in. The others looked at him. He nodded. They all nod back except for Goni.
“We still haven’t answered the most pertinent question though. Who poisoned the little old chap?” He asked calmly.
“Does it matter, we all know he was a dwindling, two faced monster” Leah said.
She had stopped pacing and sobbing. She seemed calmer and her big round eyes cut into her beautiful face. Sam looked at her in admiration
“We all knew that, but we also knew that the idea was to scare him and not to murder. So who amongst us had the most reasons to murder him?” Goni asked.
They all went quiet. The few seconds left between their breaths built up a reckless angst. Leah stared at each of their faces. She wondered who amongst them fits the murder type best..
Sam was a nerd.
It was odd that the frat boys loved him but underneath his queer humor and deep lingering eyes, there was no reason to suspect that he could be a killer. Leah thought. Simi was mostly indifferent; capable of the mundane but also the awe inspiring moments. Her calculative mind set her apart as the most logical of the group.
Kelechi was by matter of chance, the only one that was unavailable when they witnessed the death.
Goni was the one who seemed the most vulnerable to accusations. He had fought with the dead boy just a few minutes before the boy broke into a fit. He seemed more dangerous than anyone else and he also seemed to be nonchalant about the corpse that lay in the trunk of the car that had just stopped.
The five of them stood in an arc as the trunk was slowly being opened. The three boys straddle the body and move it towards the empty path that led one into the bushes. The rustling of the leaves just in front of them stopped them in their tracks.
A Park ranger had his gun pointed at them. The boys surrendered and raised their hands. The Ranger looked on in surprise.
“Who killed him?” He asked as he nudged the safety of the gun; turning it off.
The group stood, staring at him in silence.
“Who killed my partner?” The Ranger asked again.
This time his gun was pointed at a visibly distraught Simi.
She was overcome with fear.
She poisoned him because he raped her” Simi confessed.
The boys look back at Leah, stunned.
Leah’s face bore a look of resignation.
“Thanks so much for having my back; Lover” she said in disgust.
They boys all stood stunned. Processing both news that had crept into their ears.