thriller
Chocolate: A Delicious and Nutritious Treat
Title: Chocolate: A Delicious and Nutritious Treat Abstract: Chocolate is a popular treat enjoyed by people of all ages. It is made from the seeds of the cacao tree, which is native to Central and South America. Chocolate has a long history, dating back to the ancient civilizations of Mesoamerica.
By Layachi Bensadi2 years ago in Fiction
THE ACTS OF WITCHES
I carry booda Tunji, moving sluggishly to the main road to get a cab that would take us to Ibadan. It was almost dark. So, it could be difficult to get a bus at the park if we had to get to the park first. *************************************************** Earlier, I had taken booda Tunji to a white garment church where I was told that our problem was as a result of our mother's involvement in witchcraft. Again, it was laughable as we had the best mother. Iya Labake was an epitome of a good mother. Abiyamo tooto. She was protective. Vicious in fighting for her children. And above all, she ensured we got the best of everything she could afford. But, my mother was the most unlucky mother I knew. She had buried eight out of the ten children she had. My dad had also died, leaving behind my mother, booda Tunji and I. The strange thing about the demise of my other siblings is that they all died from the same ailment. All incurable. None of them lived above forty years old. The last of my sibling that died was rushed back to the village when he was about concluding his Msc program. He died few days after. With all these my mother passed through, I couldn't fathom the revelation of her being a witch. I never believed a mother could kill or cause the death of her own child. I was lost in my thought while we traveled back to Ibadan. But one thing remained firm in my heart; booda Tunji must not die. "Booda mi o gbodo ku" I repeatedly whispered to myself. Three days later, I went back to the Ifa priest with the items he had asked me to buy. He prepared the ebo, gave me instructions, then i went back to Ibadan. I was instructed to drop the ebo at a T-junction close to our family house at exactly twelve mid night. It must be dropped at a time everyone must have gone to sleep because it is forbidden for anyone else to see the ebo before it is dropped. I followed the instructions to the later. At exactly twelve midnight, I got to the T-junction and as I was about to drop the ebo, I heard a loud voice. In fact, it was a combined voices of three aged women Calling out to me.
By raphwrites2 years ago in Fiction
Mystical Mirage: The Ego's Labyrinth
In the ancient land of Ardynia, nestled amidst lush forests and rolling hills, two opposing forces clashed: the Ego-driven and the Egotistical. At the heart of the conflict lay the mysterious Temple of Balance, a place of immense power where the forces of light and darkness converged.
By Anthony K. Bryan-KagintonPackage2 years ago in Fiction
The Mythical serpent Next to Me: A Test of Viewpoint . Content Warning.
Challenge Accepted The musical bang against my back wasn't a heartbeat, not in the human sense. It was a sluggish, intentional beat of force, a contrast to the hysterical pounding of my own. Ignis, the Purplish blue Fierceness, was certainly not a consoling presence. He was a whirlwind in scales, his sapphire conceal getting the blurring daylight like a broke mirror.
By Creative Chronicles2 years ago in Fiction
"The Siren's Song"
In the picturesque coastal town of Harborview, where the salty sea air mingled with the scent of blooming flowers, there existed a darkness hidden beneath the idyllic facade. Dr. Evelyn Monroe, a renowned psychiatrist, appeared as a beacon of hope to those seeking solace from the storms of the mind. Yet, behind her charming smile and compassionate demeanor, lay a mind as twisted as the labyrinthine depths of the ocean.
By Musfequl Hasan2 years ago in Fiction
Voice of the Forest
Sap, grime and blood coated Vex’s boots as he traversed the murky streets of Old Carthus. Residents milled about on their crumbling entryway steps and tightly packed balconies, giving him wary glances down their noses as his cloaked form slithered past them in the fog. Anyone who grew up in these parts would know the stories of the leather clad Resin Hunters and their brutal purpose. Whenever one of them appeared, it meant death was afoot.
By Amanda Starks2 years ago in Fiction
