Dead But Alive

Lara’s grandmother, Mama Bisi, had been buried for weeks, and the family had just begun to move on. But one night, Lara heard faint knocks on her window. She brushed it off as the wind, until she heard the familiar voice.

“Lara… my dear… open the window,” it whispered, low and cracked.

Frozen with fear, Lara peeked through the curtains. Standing outside was her grandmother, pale, with earth still clinging to her dress, her eyes cloudy and distant. “They buried me,” Mama Bisi rasped, “but I’m still alive…”

Lara backed away, but the knocking grew louder, insistent. “Don’t you love me, Lara? Open the window,” Mama Bisi’s voice pleaded, now cold and hollow.

Terrified, Lara called her parents, but when they checked outside, no one was there. They dismissed it as a bad dream. But each night, the knocking returned, and the voice grew angrier: “Why won’t you let me in?”

One night, unable to take it anymore, Lara cracked open the window, hoping to end the nightmare. But as soon as she did, a cold hand grabbed her arm, pulling her closer. Mama Bisi’s face pressed against the glass, grinning with rotted teeth, whispering, “Now, you’ll join me… in the grave.”

The next morning, her family found the window open and her room empty, except for a faint trail of dirt leading out toward the graveyard.

Don't miss this wonderful meeting with God tonight #GodBlessYou

A second Donald Trump presidency could amplify efforts by conservative politicians to restrict abortion access across the United States.

"It's your outlook on life that counts. If you take yourself lightly and don't take yourself too seriously, pretty soon you can find the humor in our everyday lives. And sometimes it can be a lifesaver." – Betty White

Just because you fit in doesn’t mean you’re meant to be there. I know that doesn’t ring a bell, but that’s it. Most life changing ideas aren’t going to meet you meet in every turn of the road. I am not saying this is going to be a life changing idea for you, but it could be depending on the level of meaning you choose to derive from it.

Let’s get into the meat of things straight away—many of us spend years doing work/things we’re comfortable at or even good at.

We show up, get the job done, maybe even earn some praise. We fit the role perfectly, or at least we think so. But there’s a difference between doing what fits and doing what fulfills.

Let’s be real, we’re often too quick to settle for comfort zones, those places where our skills are enough to get by. But ask yourself: is this where I truly come alive? Is this the work that taps into my potential or just a convenient landing spot?

Unfortunately, this is where the majority find themselves. I know that’s not you, but you at least know a couple of persons who are in that position right now.

It’s easy to confuse “fitting in” with finding purpose. But purpose calls for more. Sometimes it demands that we walk away from comfort into uncharted territory.

So, before you tell yourself, “I’m doing alright here,” consider if alright is what you were made for—or if there’s something greater calling you forward.

Until next time, keep striving to living your best life until you can perfectly connect the dots!

Good evening
Kindly permit me share my story with you, a story where destiny, morality, and love twist together in a stormy dance.

I was a l0st girl wandering through life, fatherless and raised by a brave mother who sold spices to fuel our dreams. With perseverance, I completed high school and was set for university. But money was scarce. I had to drop out to find a job and prepare for an entrance exam.

Alone in the city, my mother back in the village, I started selling grilled chicken with a sister. For a year, my days were filled with sweat and smoke, but every evening, a young man from my neighborhood, who managed an Orange Money stand and went to my school, comforted me. He would buy me lunch, and sometimes I'd send him chicken, building our budding love.

Then, fate played its cruelest card: my mother fell seriously ill, and my meager savings of 45,000 francs were not enough for the urgent surgery she needed. My boyfriend, caught up in preparing for his own exam, could only offer me 15,000 francs more like a drop in the ocean of despair.

Desperate, I agreed to meet a wealthy married man who had been pursuing me for a long time. My mother's advice could not stop me from telling him about my problem. He generously gave me 150,000 francs that night, but the price was spending the night with him in a hotel.

Thanks to him, my mother received the care she needed, and I continued this relationship, lulled by his constant attention. He funded my exam, and today, I am a teacher. Yet, my heart beats for my neighborhood guy, the one I dream of building a family with.

But the benefactor, the married man, wants me to become his second wife. He threatens to ru|n my life if I refuse. I am a Christian and I know he visits witch doctors who could destroy my life.

Please don't judge me. I was trapped. Every time I have to be with him, I drink beer to forget. I fear karma, but what should I do in the face of such threats?🥹

Will God forgive me?

Kindly advise me everyone

Good afternoon
My name is Aline and I am 28 years old. Today, I turn to you with a story that has broken my heart

It all began six months ago, on a night that seemed full of promises. I met Patrick at a party hosted by mutual friends. He was charismatic, with a smile that could melt anyone’s defenses. We started seeing each other secretly because he was a married man, and he didn’t want anyone to know. Despite this, I foolishly believed our love was special.

One evening, we were sitting in my living room, talking about dreams and life. Suddenly, my sister, Claire, came over unannounced. I was a bit nervous, but nothing prepared me for what would happen next.

"Patrick !" Claire gasped, her eyes wide with shock.

Patrick froze. The air around us thickened with tension.

"Claire?" he replied, clearly embarrassed.

"Do you two know each other?" I asked, feeling a knot of fear and sadness forming in my chest.

Claire lowered her eyes, unable to meet my gaze. Then she confessed, almost whispering, “Aline, I have to tell you something. Patrick and I... we’ve been seeing each other for two years.”

My world fell apart. I looked at Patrick, trying to process the crushing betrayal. How could he do this? Betray not only his wife, but also my sister and me?

I was in disbelief. Patrick tried to explain himself, stammering out excuses, but I could no longer hear him. My sister crumbled into tears, realizing the depth of her betrayal.

As I watched them leave, my heart shattered into pieces. How could my own sister do this to me? And Patrick, the man who promised to love me, how could he play with our lives?

Now, dear Auntie, I am left to pick up the fragments of my broken heart and my strained relationship with Claire. Trust is shattered, and every day feels like a battle against despair.

Thank you, Auntie Afriqmax, for hearing my story and sharing it so others might learn from my pain. Perhaps some will think twice before playing with the hearts and souls of their loved ones.

I don't think I will ever forgive my sister for betraying me this way!!! How could she be dating my man in secret?

I really do love Patrick and I hope he comes around

In this Lagos ehn, anything can happen on a bus. Sometimes, God’s blessings come dressed as strangers sitting next to you, and that's why I say,

"Try dey gist with your fellow passenger once in a while. You never can tell when your miracle will come from."

Last week, after a long day at work, I joined the crowd of struggling Nigerians under the Ikeja bridge, waiting for a bus. The sky was already grumbling with thunder like it was about to vex and pour down rain. I knew I had to get home fast. My best shirt was drying outside, and my yeye brother wouldn’t even think of bringing it in for me.

"Ojuelegba, Stadium, Barracks, Costain!"

One conductor shouted as a danfo bus rattled to a stop. The bus looked like it had seen better days, but in that moment, who had time to inspect? The struggle to get in was like a war zone—office women, suited-up men, everyone shoving and pushing like it was a free-for-all. As expected, I got pushed aside, but a man in a clean white shirt and black trousers pulled me back and helped me secure the last seat in the front row.

"Thank you, sir," I said.

He looked at me and shook his head. "This is Lagos, my guy. You must be sharp. How you go just let women push you like that? No be man you be?"

I chuckled at his banter. "Oga, I strong o. I just dey respect..."

"Respect women, abi?" He interrupted, laughing. "You dey respect so tey dem don tear your shirt."

I looked down in shock. My shirt—the one my girlfriend bought for me—was ripped at the shoulder, my singlet peeking through. Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, my phone buzzed with a text from my girlfriend.

"Baby, I’m sorry," the message read. "I’ve tried, but I don’t think there’s a future for us. Please take care of yourself. I’m done."

Imagine receiving that kind of message while you’re on a bus with a torn shirt. I couldn’t believe it. But before I could even process it, the bus made a sudden stop near Fadeyi. The conductor and driver got out, scratching their heads. It was obvious—the fuel had finished. Lagos struggle no dey tire person?

The man beside me turned and pulled out his phone, showing me pictures of sleek shirts on his Samsung Galaxy Fold. I blinked. This guy clearly wasn’t an average danfo passenger. Maybe he was working for a big man or something.

"These are some shirts my daughter is selling. You fit buy from her," he said.

I checked the prices. "59k for one shirt?" I laughed nervously. "Sir, that fit buy me wardrobe for Oshodi market now."

"Oh, I thought you said you strong man," he teased. "But, anyway, how much be your salary?"

"65k, sir," I replied, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Ha! Na wa o. And from that you still pay for transport?"

"Yes, sir. They give me 5k allowance."

He looked at me thoughtfully. "You be computer literate?"

"Yes, sir."

"BSc or HND?"

"HND."

"Good. There’s a spot open in my office, and I think you could fit in. Drop your Instagram handle; I’ll send you a message with my WhatsApp link. And, pick any five shirts you like. They’ll deliver them to your house tomorrow."

My eyes widened. Sharp guy that I am, I immediately opened Instagram and shared my handle. Seconds later, I saw his message. I checked his profile, and let’s just say, this man was not a small somebody. He had G-Wagon pictures, company events—you name it. Why was someone like this on a danfo?

As if reading my thoughts, he smiled.

"I know say you wan ask plenty questions. Just hold them. I have heard them before. I also sent my daughter’s contact too; she’s single, and well-behaved. By the way, what's your name?"

"My....my....my na...name is Akintomiwa Aromire, sir."

"I am Dr. Akeju. And I love to help young and vibrant youth like you."

"Are you single?"

There was no time to process my response.

"No sir, I am very single."

I was speechless. The driver couldn’t fix the bus, so I was standing there, just waiting, not even bothering to argue with the conductor. I saw the man talking on the phone. I decided to wait a little more.

"My driver is nearby. If you’re patient, he can give you a lift,"

he offered. I don’t know what came over me—I just went over and hugged him. Minutes later, his G-Wagon pulled up, and we cruised off.

Long story short, I now work as one of his assistants, 180k pay plus some unannounced training and transport allowance.

And just last night, I had dinner date with his daughter, Adesewa. Beautiful as the name sounds.

When your helper arrives, e go be like dream. Only you go just dey shout,

"Na wa o! My helper too do o!"

"Once in a village, a woman saw three old men sitting outside her house. They were sitting there for quite a while.

The woman went outside and said,
'I don't know you, but I saw that you are sitting here for long, you must be hungry. Please come in and have something to eat.'

One of them asked,
'Is the man of the house at home ?'

She replied, 'No.'

'Then we cannot come in.', said the men.

The woman went inside. In the evening when her husband came, she told him about the people sitting outside and all that had happened.

He told his wife to go and ask those men to come in and have some food.

She went out and told them,
'My husband is home. He is inviting you all. Please come inside and have some food with us .'

They replied,
'We do not go inside a house together.'

When she asked why, one of the old men explained,
pointing to one of his friends, he said :
'His name is Wealth.
If he goes with you, your home will be filled with wealth always.'
Then pointing to another old man he said :
'He is Success.
If he goes with you, you will always be successful in any endeavor you start.'

He then introduced himself as Love.
'If I go with you, then your home will be filled with love always.'

Then he told her to go in and discuss with her husband which one of them they want in their home.

Her husband was overjoyed hearing about it and said,
'Let’s invite Wealth.
Let him come and fill our home with wealth.'

His wife disagreed and said, 'Why don’t we invite Success?'

Their daughter-in-law was listening to this.
She came to them and suggested,
'Wouldn’t it be better if we invite Love in our home ?
Then our home will be filled with love forever.'

The husband and wife agreed.

The woman again went out and said,
'Which one of you is Love ? Please come in and be our guest.'

Love got up and started walking toward the house. Just then the other two also got up and started following him.

The woman asked,
'You said you can not all can come together.
I invited only Love.
Why are you all coming in?'

The old men replied,
'If you had invited Wealth or Success then the other two would have stayed outside, but since you invite Love, wherever he goes, we go with him.'

Where there is Love, Wealth and Success will follow suit."