No Name - Chapter 3

Chapter 2 - The Stranger

When I found out she was only thirteen, I was greatly astonished. The girl was a bit too tall for her age, and was very beautiful. A young damsel she was.
I was new in the village and tried to avoid getting in people's way, never been the society type. My job was to silently observe and in due time leave the village.  I noticed she liked spending time with her neighbor's kids; probably because she loved kids or she just used them as an escape from the chaos called her family. What actually attracted me to the girl I wasn't sure, apart from her natural beauty of-course.
She seemed to have this magnetic aura that attracted both good and bad to her.

It was getting dark and I was on my way to the stream to take a bath when I heard voices; that of a man and a girl. It wasn't my business, so I kept walking. But then the voice of the girl sounded distressed in comparison to that of the man. I listened carefully, and that was when the voice registered as Nonye's.
"Please stop disturbing me" she said "I have to get home soon before my mother starts getting worried. moreover I don't talk to strangers."
"But I am not a stranger, young girl. I have already told you my name is Kelechi." The man said. He looked in his mid thirties.
"This is my first time of seeing you in this village stranger. So you are still a stranger to me" Nonye replied and picked pace.
The man followed at the same increased pace.
"Sir, what do you want from me?" Nonye innocently asked.
"I want to be your friend young girl" The man said with a crooked smile.
"But Sir, please go"
In less than a minute, the man was in her face. While holding her hands firmly with one hand, he used the other hand to unfasten the zipper on his pants.
"Now bend, go on your knees girl"
"Please Sir, please Sir. Stop this. Please this is not right" Nonye cried.
"I said on your knees girl, don't let me force you."
Soon, he forced Nonye down on her knees and forced his large manhood into her mouth. Pushed her flat on the ground and was soon inside her.
When he was fully satisfied, he shuddered, got up, zipped his pants, smirked at the girl and walked away without even a backward glance.

The girl just cried in the bush, covered in her own blood. She cried herself to sleep right there.
I watched it all from the beginning to the end without helping her. That is the saddest part of it all. Not because I didn't want to. but because I couldn't.
I sat there all night watching her sleep.
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I had to cut the rape scene... I am not sure of the age range of my readers, wouldn't want to corrupt anyone's mind.
Please do not forget to leave comments, reactions, share the post, repost and whatever it is....
CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IS WELCOME.
The chapter one can be found here, and the chapter two here 

-Debbie Motilewa

No name - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Ukwala Village

Ukwala is a village in the Eastern part of the country. Beautiful culture but terrible people. We were formerly a part of the Nuger Delts, but due to rivalry, we cut off and formed our own community. When looking at the map of the country, you'll still see Ukwula as part of the Nuger Delts, but in our minds we are of a different origin.

Madam Ejiogu was our next door neighbour; she was a widow with three little children. Her husband Ejiogu died in the war; the war that divided us from Nuger Delts; ever since, she was left to raise two little girls and an unborn baby, who turned out to be a boy, on her own.

     Uloma, Nneka and Ejiogu were all beautiful kids. After school on days I didnt have homework, I helped Madam Ejiogu look after her kids while she managed her small canteen right in front of her house.

     "mgbede oma" Good eveneing ma. I said.

     "Aah Da-alu nwa'm. Kedu maka akwukwo." Thank you my child, how is school. Madam Ejiogu asked.

"Fine ma, how are the children? I don't have homework today, maybe I could look after them for you for a while."

"Aaah, God bless you my child. They are just playing at the back yard. Please come and eat something before you go and see them."

       I followed her to the kitchen, where a pot of soup was boiling on the small charcoal stove; plates and pans were littered everywhere, the floor was wet ; the whole kitchen was a total mess. Madam Ejiogu was far from being the neat type. Worsened with the kids she had to take care of; it was a miracle people still ate at her canteen. I could bet they would never come a million miles near any food cooked here, if they ever saw her kitchen.

     "Ehn, aunty I am not too hungry again" I said.

     "Ah, but you were hungry just a minute my child, what happened to your appetite?"

The irony of the question. My appetite disappeared the very minute I set my eyes on the kitchen.

      "Nothing aunty. I just remembered that I ate at home before coming here."

     "But your mother is not in, who gave you food? Or you have started stealing eh my child?" she said with a crooked smile.

I replied with a fake laugh "Ah no aunty, not at all. Chimdi my elder brother left a wrap of cassava meal at home with little soup."

    "That's okay my dear, I'll pack a few wraps of wheat meal with my special ogbono soup for you when you are going eh. You can go to the kids at the back, let me look after my pot of soup on the fire."

      "Okay aunty. Da-alu ooo."

"Aunty Aunty." The kids shouted as soon as they saw me coming.

"Aunty, Ejiogu pushed me while we were playing snakes and ladder" Nneka reported

"No Aunty, Nneka pushed me first, and I had to fight back to preserve my dignity as a man". Ejiogu said boldly while beating his hands on his chest.

I started smilling, but immediately stopped when I realized he was serious and the other kids looked a bit frightened.

"No darling" I said. "Fighting a girl doesnt make you a man, it makes you a coward."Good men do not fight atall, talk less of beating a woman".

"I am sorry Aunty, I just assumed she'll respect me more when she knows that I could beat her up"

"Now you know better, can you apologize to your sister" I said.

"I'm sorry Nneka, I will never beat or push you again" Ejiogu said

"Aaah, please let's play, this is becoming too much of an emotional conversation" Uloma said. Uloma was propably in sixth grade, and was a really smart child but a rather unpatient one.

"Okay children, who wants to play boju-boju" I asked.

"I, I, I" They choroused.

Usually after playing games with the kids, I helped them with their homework, but I knew today was going to be different, as I had a whole lot on my mind, and was probably not going to be able to concentrate.

Mother has been having this weird conversations about marriage with me. It is really surprising that mother could think of me getting married to Uncle Chigozirim, brother of the local palmwine tapper. I just started menstruating a month ago, marriage looked like a far away thing. I mean, I never saw myself getting married at the age of twelve, and worse, getting married to a 32 year old man.

Father hadn't really said anything about the marriage, but judging from the way things have been at home lately, mother obviously had the last say.

Uncle Chigozirim was supposed to come by the house this evening to pay me a "little visit" as mother called it; but what went through my mind was sickening. Although he lived in the city, he frequented the village to see his sick mother and to finalise the supposed marriage.

Apart from mother, father and I, only one other person knew about my supposed marriage; Ibrahim and I had been classmates from elementary school although he was five years older than me; as he started school late. His parents moved from the North and came East when he was about eight years old. Ibrahim is taller than most boys in my class and considerably skinner. We bonded over purnishment in primary school and soon we became best of friends even though our parents barely talk to each other, for reasons best known to them.

     Things between Ibrahim and I recently got heated. The other day, I went to play at Ibrahim's kiosk; which he manages after school. While he was pursuing me, trying to snatch the newspaper I was reading, his lips brushed mine.

It was a funny experience; my body felt hot all over and for an unknown reason, Ibrahim suddenly looked very attractive. After that day, conversation between us became a bit awkward, we no longer played the way we used to, he started treating me like a lady, unlike the boyish way he treated me before.

When I finally summoned enough courage to tell Ibrahim about the marriage arrangement, he was thoroughly pissed and even said he was going to have a word with my mum. Knowing Ibrahim, a word wasn't how the conversation would turn out to be.

"Aunty, Aunty" Nneka called.

"Yes, Nneka" I snapped out my thoughts.

"Aunty, are you okay? I have bn calling you for a while."

"Yes my darling, I am fine. I just need to go lie down for a bit. my head hurts." 

"Aunty, you can lay on my mat if you want" Ejiogu added.

I started walking to the room, as they continued playing without a care in the world. What I'll give to be a little girl once more.

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Comments and reactions are much appreciated, and let me know if ya'll are interested in reading the third chapter :) 

- Debbie Motilewa

No name- Chapter 1

Happy Monday sweetiieeesss!

I was ranting the other day on twitter about how I have so many unfinished novels. I always start writing a book, but once I take a long break I am never able to complete it again. I think I have completed only about three books ever, one of which got misplaced while bn passed around in secondary school.
Anyway, I am about to post up a few chapters from my most recent work, seeing as I haven't written a short story in a long while. I started this book in summer 2011 and then took up designing class, so I couldn't complete it then, and yeah, guess what, a year plus later and i am still yet to complete it.

Please read and let me know what you think about it.

Chapter 1 - Nonye

Ten minutes past twelve, and father wasn't home yet. Mother had slept off in the parlour with a bucket of water beside her; patiently waiting to be poured on father the moment he walked in. Things like this aggravated mother; father's late night "meetings", father's recent drunken state, father's new non-chalant attitude to everything. In fact father was slowly becoming a waste.
Father never used to be like this; he was once my role model. But after he lost his job at the local treadmill two years ago; he started drinking, and soon started keeping late nights; coming home extremely drunk and dirty.
        Quarter to one, and father staggered in; singing an old christmas hymn "while shepherds watched their flocks by night, all seated on the ground, the angel of the lord came down and glory shone around." Even in his drunken state, father's voice was still heavenly. He had been in the choir as far back as I can remember; he even taught me how to use my vocals well.

        Mother immediately jumped up from the battered smelly couch at the far side of the parlor. The couch smelt of everything, ranging from stale beer to the stench of dead rats. With a swift movement the bucket of water came down on father's head.
Mother was a brief woman; not too short, but quite short. She was well muscled, propably due to her farming activities.
Ever since Father lost his job, mother took up farming, as well as her sales job in the market. She went out early in the morning and came back late at night, but never past ten. Mother used to be a housewife when father was still working at the treadmill company. She single handedly raised all five of us.

"Woman, you have started again. What rubbish is this?" Father said in his fake British accent. According to him, when he was in the 6th class, he had a British teacher, whom he learnt the accent from. I personally believe father faked the accent in other to get girls in those days, but using it now just felt too phony.
"Eeeh, you havent seen anything yet, I tell you. Coming home by one am and you are still talking to me. You are lucky it was warm water, next time you may not be so lucky. It could be hot water, boiling straight from the stove. Stupid man."
Father was a man of few words. He left mother standing in the parlor without giving her a reply.

Lying on the couch, underneath my wrapper, I silently cried for the fate of my family.
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P.s I haven't really decided on the title of the book yet, hence the title "no name"

- Debbie Motilewa

Do I blame myself? Of Course not

"As I walk through the valley.. I see you, feel you."
The rest of that song is history, I was never a fully devoted Christian, although I was literally born in Church. Yes, I mean it, I was given birth to in church. My mum went into labor during a Sunday service, before she could be rushed to the hospital, my small head was already popping out.
I find the story fascinating and never fail to use it as an ice breaker in social gatherings, always concluding with "I was born in Church, so I don't need to be born again".

My dad died when I was three, leaving my mum, my brother and I at the mercy of his family. I blame my dad for his death, because he died in the bed of a prostitute. My father's family weren't the nicest of people; they took all of my father's belongings, and left us to beg on the streets. my mum was a housewife, she had just a degree which she hadn't used in years to fall back on. In my father's words "No, I want you to stay at home and take care of my kids" Where did that statement leave her now? Oh yes! Jumping from one friend's home to another with her kids; her 10 year old son and three year old daughter. At first, her friends were eager to lend a helping hand, soon they all turned their backs on us. That was when I learnt you're your only true friend, no one has got your back forever.

Fifteen years later, and I am in a hospital bed, dying of aids and other sexually transmitted diseases. My brother died from been at the right place at the wrong time, caught between a gun fight between the police and a gang of robbers; if he was actually among the robbers, no one knows, but we sure do know he wasn't a member of teh police force.

My mother looking at least thirty years older than her age, gazed sadly upon me. She called me to caution before it was too late, but I obviously turned deaf ears. Peer pressure pushed me into it. My mother started hawking akara and puff puff on the streets of Lagos few months after my father's death. I was still very young then, and enjoyed every bit of it, what more does a three year old girl want than running around the streets in pants, playing with kids her own age, building sand castles and feasting on half eaten gala found on the road? It wasn't till I was ten that I envied girls my own age in beautiful dresses and well packed hair.
That was when the complaints started, for three years I worried my mum, made her cry, harassed her. Wondered why she brought me up the way she did, why I couldn't have the beautiful toys the other girls had, why I had to play with tyres with other dirty kids. Soon I made friends with other "sad" girls like I called them.

Two years later, here I am, slowly waiting for my death, escaping it if only a miracle occurs.

What could I have done differently if I had the opportunity to go back in time? Nothing! absolutely nothing! Why? Because I believe everything happened because of a greater force, a force greater than man. A god with a small g or a God with a big G. what ever it or he or she is, I don't know.
Now you see why I said I was never a devoted Christian and would never be a devoted Christian?


A really short SHORT story... Purely Fiction.... by princess Debbie ^_^

It was simple

He was a boy, I was a girl,
He wore a trouser, I wore a skirt,
He winked at me, I cracked a smile,
He was handsome, I was beautiful,
He cut his hair, I wove my hair

He said hi, I said hey
He said come to my house, I said why not
He took off his shirt, I was amazed at his beautiful body
He asked to take off my blouse, I objected
He had done this a million times, I had never done it.

He did not wait for my consent, I pleaded with him
He held me down, I screamed,
He forced into me, I cried,
He thrust really hard, I got hurt
He smiled when he released, I stared into space.

He begged for mercy, I smirked,
He pleaded on his knees, I stood on my feet
He called me beautiful, I called him ugly,
He wanted a second chance, I was no gardner's daughter,
There was a big bang and he was silent for life.
Another bang and that was the last of me.


Debbie

The Tale of an Ekaette Part 2

"Sweetie, wake up" She whispered

I was in shock, aunty Tega calling me sweetie? No way, it just can't be, I must have died and gone to heaven, it just didn't seem real.

"I'm awake aunty" I said "Do you want me to get you anything?"

"No love, i just came to talk to you"

"Yes aunty, i'm listening, what about?"

"You know I love you as a daughter right? I have a little special something I want you to do for me"

This felt like the golden moment I had bn waiting for, aunty Tega needed me to do something special for her, I'll finally get back on her good books. I was ready to do absolutely anything for Aunty Tega.

"Yes aunty, anything you want me to do, I'm ready"

"That's my baby" She cooed

"You see, your uncle and I have bn having a tough year, he wants a baby, and I cant have another baby, and you're such a beautiful young lady, you have already started seeing your menstrual period; you know that period during a month when blood flows from your vagina, that I told you was because you  had started sinning? Well that's not why, it's because you've started producing eggs"

The first time I saw blood, I was really scared, and when I showed aunty Tega, I remember her beating the hell out of me, saying I had started sinning, and I was destined for hell.

But just in my bid to get on aunty's good side again, I decided to ignore that.

"Okay aunty, how am I supposed to help you and uncle have a child?"

Aunty didn't answer me again, she just got up and left the room, while I was still wondering what I had done wrong, she came back in with Uncle, uncle was wearing boxers; I could see his fine legs, and something was trying to chook out beneath  his boxers, I immediately turned my eyes away, before aunty read the wrong meaning, she just smiled and whispered in my ear;

"Dont be shy love, it's fine, just do whatever uncle tells you to do, remember your uncle and I would never hurt you, we are just training you for the world outside"

Uncle then removed his boxers, and I could see what was standing out, it was a penis, a really big penis, that wasn't the first time I saw a penis, but that was the biggest I had seen. Apart from the little dangling things the children in my village had, Tunde, the yoruba boy in my class had showed me his in school one day, but he made me show him mine afterwards in the play ground.

Why was uncle showing me his penis without asking me to show him mine? 

Is it not a private part? 

Why is aunty allowing him show me?

Uncle smiled this knowing smile, and walked towards my bed, he lifted the duvet up, and lifted my night dress up, I didn't know what to say or do, I just believed what aunty said when she said they wouldn't do anything to hurt me,

I felt uncle's fingers touch my private part.

"Please take it easy with her" Aunty said

Uncle just smiled, and slowly thrust his little finger into my vagina, in and out it went, at first it was scary, but soon enough I started enjoying it, and was groaning; that little noise, it was pleasurable, I felt something in me, I don't know what, but I knew I was getting wet underneath. Next uncle brought his big penis and thrust it into my small vagina, it was really painful, I began to cry, and aunty just rubbed my head, I could see tears in her eyes also. 

Why was aunty crying? I wondered, I thought I was doing what she wanted, I didn't want to hurt aunty so I forced myself to stop crying, and just flowed with it.

In and out uncle went with a grin on his face. After a few minutes he shuddered, I didn't know what was wrong with him, but he was shaking like he had epilepsy or something, after a while he smiled, and stayed still, then he stood up, wore his boxers and left my room, I stretched forward to touch my vagina, I saw blood everywhere on my sheet, with a white-ish substance, I wasn't sure what it was but I figured it came out from uncle's body.

"Relax love, i'll get you cleaned up" Aunty said

That was the first of uncountable times, it became a normal ritual, we did it so many times without Terry knowing, soon aunty stopped coming in with Uncle. He just came did his job and left, I felt violated, but I couldn't say anything, I felt indebted to aunty, and felt like that was the only way I could pay her back.

Soon enough I was throwing up, I felt sick in the mornings, my body felt strange, like I was living in some one else's body.

Aunty caught me vomiting one day, and took me to the hospital, eight months later I gave birth to a baby girl for aunty, I was fifteen by that time.

Few months later, and aunty became mean to me again, I couldn't take it, she was harder on me this time. One day while I went to pick up a few items from the market, I saw a "house help wanted" poster.

At this time I had stopped bn the naive village girl, but my eyes had shined, I knew I couldn't take rubbish again, not from anyone, not even aunty or uncle.

So one day, when aunty was having her stupid tantrums, I shouted back at her, and threatened to take my child back if she wasn't careful. Aunty's eyes went wide, I could see shock, fear, disbelief in her eyes, she obviously couldn't believe I had grown such liver to be able to shout back at her.

That day marked my last day in Aunty Tega's house.

My second home was much better, I had a very naive madam,  Sex was already a thing I enjoyed, I did it with her husband and her two sons.

I moved on when I got tired of them.

Sexing and house helping, are my professions, when I get tired of one home, I just move on to the next one, so far  the only bad side has bn the amount of pregnancies I have aborted. I just cant be bothered to bring a child to this wicked world.

I'm on a mission to hunt families down, and destroy them one by one.

The Tale of an Ekaette Part 1

My name is Ekaette, I hail from the village of Ina-men in Calabar, My name wasn't always Ekaette, Ekaette was the name given to me by small oga in the second home I served,  The name given to me by my parents was Grace, left to me i'll stick with the Ekaette, 'cos I'm yet to see the grace upon my life..

I have two professions, you can actually say three, cos as much as two are connected, they are still quite different. I started my house help business when I was six; papa had cancer of the lungs  and mama was a house wife, little by little, papa's sickness got worse, soon the money gotten from papa's farm was used to buy drugs from the only mallam that lived in our village.

 Aunty Tega, came visiting once in a while, I'm still not sure how aunty Tega and mama are related, cos while Aunty Tega is tall and beautiful, mama is the exact opposite. One day during one of those days when papa coughed bitterly, aunty Tega came visiting, this time around she didn't leave alone, but left with me. At first I was happy, thinking of how it would be in the city I had always heard about, Joy my next door neighbor had gone to the city once, and told me all about it, the constant light; that noisy thing that brought light back when the light went off; that big white wardrobe, where cooked foods are preserved, unlike our local barn in the village; that iron thing that gushes water out instead of our borehole; I also heard that all houses in the city had bathrooms so no one saw your privates, unlike in this village where all the children had their bath together at the river. I stopped having my bath with the other children two months ago, when those two seeds on my chest that mama called nipples started growing, Obi the Igbo boy in the village, had started looking at me in a funny way. One day, he pinched the seeds really hard they hurt, I couldn't tell mama cos it felt wrong, but I started having my bath very early in the morning before the other children woke up.
I wore my best cloth the day I followed aunty Tega to the city, it was my christmas cloth, the one I wore  every christmas for the past two years.

Aunty Tega's house was very beautiful, it had three rooms, two bathrooms, a sitting room and a kitchen, I was glad when aunty Tega gave me a big room to my self, I had never had a room to myself, Mama, Papa and I shared the only room in our hut.

Aunty Tega had a very fine husband and a fine son. Aunty Tega's son; Terry reminded me of one fine boy I saw in the black and white tv with the huge cupboard in Joy's house. I couldn't take my eyes off Aunty Tega's son, but he didn't pay any attention to me, he acted like he was in his own world, always pressing one thing that looked like a remote.

I was twelve years old when everything turned around, Aunty Tega started acting mean to me, she stopped sending me to school, she always fought with uncle, Terry still had barely spoken to me. I was used to Terry's silent attitude towards me, but Aunty Tega's was just different, I felt unwanted.

One day, aunty Tega broke a plate on my head because I broke her vase, the vase was light green, it was artistically designed, it gave the room this grand look, I did not mean to break the vase, it just happened. Before I could explain to Aunty Tega, she threw the plate she had in her hand at me, aiming directly for my head.
I was admitted for a few weeks at the hospital, No one came to visit me at the hospital, Aunty Tega just sent the driver to give me food every day, I think I just carry a bad omen, 'cos the nurses at the hospital weren't nice to me either, the only friend I had was the doctor, and she only came to see me 10 mins a day, the remaining 23 hours 50 mins of my day was a living hell. I started missing my village so much, I missed Obi, I missed the other children, I hadn't heard from papa and mama in a year, they used to send me letters every other month, but suddenly aunty Tega stopped giving me letters, and the day I tried questioning her about it, she gave me a resounding slap. So I quit acting C.I.A
The cut from the plate left a permanent scar on my head, hence i've bn on a permanent low cut ever since.

The day I was finally discharged from the hospital, a small part of me prayed for Aunty Tega to be nice to me, but everything in the house was still the same; Terry and Uncle still acted like I ddn't exist, Aunty Tega was more mean than ever. 

Then one day while I was sleeping in my big room, luckily she hadn't taken that from me, Aunty Tega walked in......

To be Continued......

xx 

Crazy Gemini

Christ in me

I felt a black breeze blow over my face, I tried opening my eyes, but they weren't responding. I tried screaming, but no sound came out.

I could see them dancing around me clothed in black robes, like they were having some sort of festival. At the far corner stood a colored lady in a red robe with a black rope just around her voluptious waist; full blossom, bushy hair, round and fat bottom. To her left was a small girl in a black and red stripped robe holding a small roundish looking object; what my african friends call a calabash.

It's weird how my eyes were closed, yet I could still see all those things, I was probably seeing them in my spirit mind with what people would call spiritual eyes :s the substance in the kalabash looking pot, looked red like blood. The same type of calabash, was in the hands of a younger boy, who stood beside the small girl.

At this point, I was fully sure they wanted to use me for sacrifice; or they had already used me as a  sacrifice. "Oh wait! It could be my blood in the calabashes. I'm probably dying in stages". I started reflecting on my past; the way I lived my life; the boys I did; the enemies I made; the people I hurt. Oh, my parents, my brother, my sisters, the fortune my parents invested in my school.... Every single thing ran through my mind; my first kiss, the way my heart skipped when his lips touched mine, my first best friend, my future boyfriends, my present boyfriend; Oh Lord, his kisses, his tender way of talking to me, his touches, the way he holds me, the way we complement each other.

My best friend; the first best friend I've had in my 19 years of being in this world, the way she understands me, the way i feel comfortable talking to her.

And then it dawned on me, if this was death, then I'm surely going to hell, I cant remember ever asking Christ into my life; I hardly go to church, except when my parents force me to, and even then I use my phone all through the service, and crack jokes and laugh when the preacher makes grammatical errors.

No! I'm not that bad, i do dance during praise and worship, because I love dancing, I'm a proffesional dancer by the way, dancing is my passion, but now, how my love for dancing could get me to heaven eluded me. I have never really asked Christ to come into my life, except that one time when I was ten, when I asked him because my friends were doing it; but living a holy and fulfilled life was never my thing.

Then it dawned on me; it wasn't too late for me, If God allowed me see all those things, then he was definately giving me time to repent. I then cried out in my spirit;

"Oh Lord, forgive me for i am a sinner, I ask you to come into my life today, I believe Christ died for me, and on the third day he rose again. Please Lord, come into my life at this my dying point and make me whole and lead me to heaven"

Tsk Tsk; Time was ticking, like all the movies I had watched; I expected something dramatic to happen at that point; but time passed by, and those weird people still remained there, dancing to an unknown music, taking their time, like they were going to be there forever.

"JESUS"  I shouted; where that came from, I had no idea; I had never really been a bold one in my life, I've always been the shy, quiet one , so shouting as bold as that with those strange people around, was really surprising. And then i realized I wasnt the one who shouted, it was something inside me, something I never knew was there, something that made me feel happy and satisfied, something different. Oh My, God actually heard my prayers; I was so involved with my thoughts that i didn't realize the weird people were scattering and acting confused. By the time I took notice of  them; I saw them filing out.

Wow! The name of Jesus actually worked; what a great and mighty name.

At that point, I felt my strength return, my eyes opened, I felt around me with my hands, then realized i was still in my bed in my father's mansion, with my sister looking at me like i was sick.

"Are you okay?" She asked

" Yeah, I am, have you been here for long?"

"No, i just came in, I heard you shout. You are sweating, are you sure you're okay?"

So it was all a dream after all, or a revelation maybe. Which ever it was, I didn't care, all that went through my mind was the decision i made; to live for Christ, and Christ alone.

That is a decision we all need to make: to live for Christ and him alone; especially in these days of great and mighty sins, with the death rate towering way above the life rate....

A must watch video: http://seeds.churchonthemove.com/video/video-he-was-i-am

p.s :- this is a must read! http://www.divinerevelations.info/Documents/Prepare_to_meet_your_God/index.htm

Crazy Gemini

xx