PRAISE WORSHIP

1. I command all demonic hindrances to my prosperity to be totally paralysed, in the
name of Jesus.
2. Let every demonic bank keeping my finances be destroyed and release my finances, in
the name of Jesus.
3. I bind every strongman holding my finances captive, in Jesus' name.
4. I possess all my possessions, in the name of Jesus.
5. I break and loose myself from every curse of financial bondage and poverty, in the
name of Jesus.
6. I release myself from every conscious and unconscious covenant with the spirit of
poverty, in the name of Jesus.
7. Let God arise and let every enemy of my financial breakthrough be scattered,. in the
name of Jesus.
8. O Lord, restore all my wasted years and efforts and convert them to blessings, in the
name of Jesus.
9. Let the spirit of favour be upon me everywhere I go concerning my finances, in the
name of Jesus.
10. Father, I ask You, in the name of Jesus, to send ministering spirits to bring in prosperity
and funds into my finances.

11. Let men bless me anywhere I go, in the name of Jesus.
12. I release my finances from the clutches of financial hunger, in the name of Jesus.
13. I loose angels, in the mighty name of Jesus, to go and create favour for my finances.
14. Let all financial hindrances be removed, in the name of Jesus.
15. I remove my name and those of my customers from the book of financial bankruptcy, in
the name of Jesus.
16. Holy Spirit, be my senior partner in my finances.
17. Every good thing presently eluding my finances should flow into it, in the mighty name
of Jesus.
18. I reject every spirit of financial embarrassment, in Jesus' name.
19. Father, block every space causing unprofitable leakage to my finances, in the mighty
name of Jesus.
20. Let my finances become too hot to handle for dupes and demonic customers, in the
name of Jesus.
21. Let spiritual magnetic power that attracts and keeps wealth be deposited in my
finances, in the name of Jesus.

22. I release my finances from the influences, control and domination of household
wickedness, in the name of Jesus.
23. Let all satanic angels deflecting blessings away from me be completely paralyzed, in
the name of Jesus.
24. Let the evil effect of any strange money I have received or touched be neutralised, in
the name of Jesus.
25. O Lord, teach me the divine secret of prosperity.
26. Let the joy of the enemy over my financial life be converted to sorrow, in the name of
Jesus.
27. Let all my blessings held captive locally or overseas be released to me, in the name of
Jesus.
28. I bind every anti-breakthrough, anti-miracle, and anti-prosperity forces, in the name of
Jesus.
29. Let my finances be too hot for any evil power to sit upon, in the name of Jesus.
30. O Lord, quicken my spirit to evolve money-yielding ideas.
31. Let every spirit of debt and financial blockage be rendered impotent for my sake, in the
name of Jesus.
32. O Lord, bring honey out of the rock for me and let me find the way where men say
there is no way.
33. Thank the Lord for the answers.

The old clock on the wall ticked, each second a hammer blow against my frayed nerves. The rain outside had become a relentless drumbeat, mirroring the frantic rhythm of my heart. I paced the dusty attic, the scent of mothballs and forgotten dreams clinging to the air. My family, they were gone. Vanished. No trace, no explanation, just a single note scrawled on a crumpled piece of paper: "We had to leave. We'll be back for you soon."

But how soon was soon? Days? Weeks? Years? The thought of them, their faces, their voices, fading into the mists of time, filled me with a dread that gnawed at my insides. I clutched the worn teddy bear, its fur matted and faded, a silent witness to my childhood. He smelled of my mother's lavender perfume, a faint whisper of her presence that kept me clinging to hope.

The attic, once a haven of forgotten treasures, now felt like a prison. The cobwebs draped across the rafters like ghostly shrouds, the shadows in the corners seemed to dance and writhe, whispering secrets I couldn't understand. I was trapped, a prisoner in my own home, surrounded by memories that both comforted and terrified me.

I had to find them. I had to believe their promise, to cling to the hope that they would return. But the rain kept falling, a relentless reminder of the darkness that had descended upon our lives. And in the silence of the old house, I felt a growing fear, a fear that whispered, "What if they never come back?"

The rain hammered against the windowpane, each drop a tiny drumbeat against the silence of the old house. I sat huddled in the corner of the attic, a dusty blanket pulled tight around me, the scent of mothballs and forgotten dreams clinging to the air. My heart thumped a frantic rhythm against my ribs, a frantic counterpoint to the rain's steady beat. I was trapped.

My family, they were gone. Vanished. Just like that. One day they were bustling about the house, their voices filling the rooms with laughter and the clatter of dishes. The next, an empty silence, punctuated only by the creak of the old floorboards and the wind whistling through the cracks in the windows.

They had left me a note, scrawled in my mother's familiar hand, a single sentence that sent a shiver down my spine: "We had to leave. We'll be back for you soon." But how soon was soon? Days? Weeks? Years? The thought of them, of their faces, their voices, fading into the mists of time, filled me with a dread that gnawed at my insides.

I clutched the worn teddy bear, its fur matted and faded, a silent witness to my childhood. He was all I had left. He smelled of my mother's lavender perfume, a faint whisper of her presence that kept me clinging to hope.

The attic, once a haven of forgotten treasures, now felt like a prison. The cobwebs draped across the rafters like ghostly shrouds, the shadows in the corners seemed to dance and writhe, whispering secrets I couldn't understand. I was a prisoner in my own home, surrounded by memories that both comforted and terrified me.

I longed for the warmth of my mother's embrace, the reassuring rumble of my father's laughter, the mischievous twinkle in my brother's eyes. But they were gone, swallowed by the storm that had swept through our lives, leaving me stranded in a sea of uncertainty.

I had to be strong. I had to find them. I had to believe their promise, to cling to the hope that they would return. But the rain kept falling, a relentless reminder of the darkness that had descended upon our lives. And in the silence of the old house, I felt a growing fear, a fear that whispered, "What if they never come back?"

The air hung heavy with the scent of pine needles and damp earth as Elara crept through the ancient forest. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the forest floor in a mosaic of light and shadow. She clutched a worn leather map in her hand, its edges frayed and its markings barely visible. It was her only guide, a legacy from her grandmother, leading her to the hidden heart of the forest, where legend whispered of a magical spring.

The map spoke of a hidden path, guarded by ancient trees and whispered secrets. Elara followed its cryptic clues, her heart pounding with anticipation. She navigated tangled roots and overgrown paths, her senses heightened, listening for the rustle of leaves and the call of unseen creatures.

Finally, after hours of searching, she reached a clearing bathed in an ethereal glow. In the center stood a crystal-clear spring, its water shimmering with an otherworldly luminescence. Elara knelt beside the spring, its cool water whispering secrets of ancient magic. She dipped her hand into the water, feeling its energy pulsate through her veins. The legend was true. The magical spring existed.

The rain hammered against the attic window, a relentless rhythm echoing the frantic beating of Maya's heart. She clutched the dusty box, its worn leather whispering secrets of a forgotten past. Inside, nestled amongst yellowed photographs and faded letters, lay a single, tarnished key. Her grandmother's key.

A chill ran down her spine as she remembered her grandmother's words, spoken in a hushed voice, "When the storm comes, Maya, the key will unlock the truth." The storm had come, and now, in the heart of the tempest, Maya felt compelled to unlock the secrets her grandmother had guarded for so long.

With trembling hands, she inserted the key into the lock of an old, ornately carved chest hidden beneath a pile of forgotten trinkets. The lock clicked open with a satisfying click, and Maya lifted the lid, revealing a collection of faded maps, handwritten journals, and a single, worn leather-bound book. The book's cover bore a single, enigmatic inscription: "The Journey Begins."

The storm raged on, but Maya felt a strange sense of calm as she opened the book, ready to embark on the journey her grandmother had left for her. The truth, she knew, lay within its pages.

Trapped In A Grave
Episode 9

The first thing I saw as I slowly opened my eyes was a blurry image of faces leaning over me. My vision cleared, and I realized it was a man and a woman, their expressions filled with concern. A small child stood behind them, holding tightly onto the woman’s dress.

I was lying on a bed, covered with a soft blanket that smelled faintly of lavender. The room was modest, its wooden walls adorned with framed Bible verses. A warm glow came from a lamp on the bedside table.

“She’s awake,” the woman said softly, her voice laced with relief.

“Thank God,” the man replied. He was holding a Bible, his hands clasped tightly around it as if it were a lifeline.

I blinked a few times, trying to sit up, but my body felt heavy and weak. “Where… where am I?” I managed to whisper.

“You’re safe now,” the man said gently. “We found you on the roadside. You were unconscious. We couldn’t just leave you there.”

The woman touched my arm lightly, her touch comforting. “You’re in our home. My name is Clara, and this is my husband, Pastor James. That’s our daughter, Lily.”

I looked at the little girl, who gave me a shy wave before hiding her face behind her mother’s dress. “Thank you,” I murmured, my voice barely audible.

“You’ve been through something terrible,” James said, sitting down in the chair beside the bed. “We were praying for you when you woke up. God must have a purpose for sparing you.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. “You don’t understand,” I said, my voice trembling. “What I’ve been through… it’s not something anyone should ever experience.”

“Tell us,” Clara said, her eyes filled with compassion. “Whatever it is, we’ll listen.”

I hesitated, unsure of where to begin. Then the words poured out of me, each one more frantic than the last. I told them everything—about my mother, the grave, the demon, and how I had ended up on the roadside.

They listened intently, their expressions growing more serious with each word. Lily sat on the floor, clutching a stuffed toy, her wide eyes fixed on me.

When I finished, the room was silent. James was the first to speak. “This is… unlike anything I’ve ever encountered,” he said, his voice grave. “But if what you’re saying is true, then this is no ordinary evil.”

“I need your help,” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “Please, come back home with me. My mother… she’s trapped. My father might still be in danger. I can’t do this alone.”

Clara exchanged a glance with her husband, who nodded solemnly. “We’ll help you,” she said. “But you must understand, this won’t be easy.”

James stood up, clutching his Bible tightly. “Whatever this is, it’s beyond human strength. We’ll need God’s guidance and protection to face it.”

“Thank you,” I said, relief washing over me. “Thank you so much.”

After I regained enough strength to stand, we prepared to leave. Clara packed a small bag with supplies, while James gathered holy water and a crucifix. Lily watched silently, clutching her toy as if it could shield her from the fear that lingered in the air.

The drive back to my house was tense. The closer we got, the more dread settled in my chest. I kept replaying the horrifying events in my mind, wondering what awaited us.

When we arrived, the house looked eerily quiet, the windows dark and foreboding. “Stay here for a moment,” James said, his voice steady but cautious.

He peered through one of the windows, his face lit only by the pale moonlight. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then he stepped back abruptly, his expression filled with shock and fear.

“What is it?” Clara asked, clutching his arm.

James turned to us, his voice trembling. “There’s something in there,” he said. “And it’s not human.”

To Be Continued............

FCT Police rescue lady from suspected r!tualist she met online who posed as a prospective lover

The Federal Capital Territory (FCT) Police Command has successfully rescued a young woman from the clutches of a suspected armed robber and ritual!st, launching an immediate manhunt for the fleeing suspect.

A statement released by the command’s spokesperson, SP Josephine Adeh, says On January 31, 2025, at approximately 11:30am, the Command received a distress call from a hotel in the Wuse area of the FCT, reporting suspicious activity in one of their rooms.

Responding swiftly, police operatives arrived at the scene and discovered a 25-year-old woman, Promise Eze, from Ebonyi State, tied to a small chair with her mouth covered in plaster. She was found unconscious and in distress. Officers acted immediately, freeing her from captivity and rushing her to Wuse District Hospital, where she was resuscitated.

Preliminary investigations revealed a disturbing pattern of deception and violence. The victim had checked into the hotel a day earlier, on January 30, 2025, at about 7:00 AM, in the company of a man who identified himself as Emmanuel Okoro from Lagos State.

However, during police questioning, the victim disclosed that she had met the suspect online, where he introduced himself under the alias Michael Prince, claiming to be an oil company employee based in Delta State. Initially, he invited her to Delta, but after she declined, they agreed to meet in Abuja.

Adeh added that tragically, what was meant to be an innocent meeting turned into a harrowing ordeal.

The suspect allegedly brandished a dagger, using it to threaten and subdue the victim before restraining her by tying her hands and legs and taping her mouth shut inside the bathroom. He then fled the scene, stealing her two mobile phones. Alarmingly, before escaping, the victim overheard him speaking to suspected accomplices over the phone, informing them that he was on his way to regroup before returning to the hotel to finish the job.”

Adeh mentioned that the FCT Police Command has launched a full-scale manhunt for the suspect

_Life outside can be cruel. Last night, I saw a woman searching for a place to sleep, clutching her baby and a few belongings. It was a heartbreaking reminder that life is a daily struggle for many.
_We often think that everyone has it better than us, but the truth is, we all face unique challenges. If we were to share our problems, I'm sure we'd quickly realize that our own struggles aren't so bad after all.

Evening Glamour

Turn heads in evening fashion. Go for flowy gowns, jumpsuits, or suits. Accessorize with glittery jewelry, heels, or clutches. In all, evening glamour spells confidence and bold statements.

A drowning man will clutch at a straw## proverb