Sponsored
  • Twice I've sent money to this girl to visit me and she didn't show up.
    The first time was in 2023.
    I met her here on Facebook. She was quite lovely and went by the name Ogadi Uka.
    I approached her and made clear to her that the reason why I texted her was because I liked her. After several months of flirting and late-night chatting, I requested that she visit me and she agreed.
    The problem was that she lived in Lagos, and I Aba.
    I agreed to fund her transport bills from Lagos to Aba and back. It summed up to 40K then. She was to stay with me for three days.
    The day she was supposed to come to my house, her number was suddenly not going. It was switched off. I texted her on Facebook, on WhatsApp, left voice notes and all for her and all were left unreplied to.
    Three days later, she called me and told me that she fainted that morning and her neighbours had to rush her to a nearby clinic where treatments were administered to her. She showed me a picture of her on a drip.
    I told her it was okay, that she should not bother coming anymore and should instead use that money to buy drugs. She thanked me profusely and called me a good man.
    I texted and called her throughout that week to know the state of her health, and even sent more money to her to buy fruits and juice.
    Five months later, I asked her to visit me again and she agreed. I sent her 50K for transport.
    That day, I waited and waited and waited but she didn't show up. Her line was inactive. Her Facebook account was suddenly deactivated.
    I was mād. I was flabbergastēd. I wanted to cry.
    Two days later, she called me and told me that she was sorry, that her mom dièd that morning so she couldn't come. She told me that she was still grieving, so I should understand.
    I told her that I thought she was an orphan. I even showed her a screenshot of our text where she mentioned she was an orphan.
    She told me Oh, Ah, that she wasn't talking about her real mother. That she was talking about her Aunty. That her Aunty was the one that diēd and she was like a mother to her because she trained her and her siblings.
    She told me that she couldn't visit me because she used the money I sent to her to sort out her mom's (Aunty's) mortuāry things.
    She said sorry and I accepted with an okay.
    Two months later—early this year—I asked her to visit me but told her that I had relocated to Abuja ooo. I showed her pictures of my new house, a very modern apartment with AC, a flat TV, huge couches, and a sleek interior. I even showed her the new car the company I run social media pages for gifted me, and she congratulated me.
    I asked her if she could come from Lagos to Abuja, and that if she couldn't, I'd understand. She said she can. But she told me she didn't have money for the bus fare, that ten kobo no dey her account.
    I sent her 20K for her bus fare. I told her I would give her money for the bus home on the day she would leave my place.
    That day, I kept calling her. She told me when she booked a bus, when she entered it, when they left the park, and when she reached Abuja, by 2 in the afternoon.
    Immediately she reached the park in Abuja, I called her and told her to take a bike to Gwarinpa and that once she reached there, she should give the bikeman the phone so I would give him directions to my house.
    After I ended the call with her, I switched off my phone.
    By the time I switched on my phone by 5 in the evening, streams of texts pinged into my Facebook. 46 messages I had received from her. I called her and as soon as she picked up, she started shouting at me. She said she was stranded on the road and had been calling me, that I knew she didn't have any money on her, not even her in her bank account, that she didn't like this, that I should quickly pick her up from the junction.
    I told me that I was sorry, and then I told her to flag down a bikeman so I would give him directions to my house.
    Immediately she hailed a bike and gave the man the phone, I asked the man to tell her to go home, that I didn't even know where Gwarinpa was in Abuja because I still live in Aba full full. I told him to tell her that however she manages to find her way home—that is if she finds her way home—I don't care.
    Then I switched off my phone again
    Follow me for more
    Twice I've sent money to this girl to visit me and she didn't show up. The first time was in 2023. I met her here on Facebook. She was quite lovely and went by the name Ogadi Uka. I approached her and made clear to her that the reason why I texted her was because I liked her. After several months of flirting and late-night chatting, I requested that she visit me and she agreed. The problem was that she lived in Lagos, and I Aba. I agreed to fund her transport bills from Lagos to Aba and back. It summed up to 40K then. She was to stay with me for three days. The day she was supposed to come to my house, her number was suddenly not going. It was switched off. I texted her on Facebook, on WhatsApp, left voice notes and all for her and all were left unreplied to. Three days later, she called me and told me that she fainted that morning and her neighbours had to rush her to a nearby clinic where treatments were administered to her. She showed me a picture of her on a drip. I told her it was okay, that she should not bother coming anymore and should instead use that money to buy drugs. She thanked me profusely and called me a good man. I texted and called her throughout that week to know the state of her health, and even sent more money to her to buy fruits and juice. Five months later, I asked her to visit me again and she agreed. I sent her 50K for transport. That day, I waited and waited and waited but she didn't show up. Her line was inactive. Her Facebook account was suddenly deactivated. I was mād. I was flabbergastēd. I wanted to cry. Two days later, she called me and told me that she was sorry, that her mom dièd that morning so she couldn't come. She told me that she was still grieving, so I should understand. I told her that I thought she was an orphan. I even showed her a screenshot of our text where she mentioned she was an orphan. She told me Oh, Ah, that she wasn't talking about her real mother. That she was talking about her Aunty. That her Aunty was the one that diēd and she was like a mother to her because she trained her and her siblings. She told me that she couldn't visit me because she used the money I sent to her to sort out her mom's (Aunty's) mortuāry things. She said sorry and I accepted with an okay. Two months later—early this year—I asked her to visit me but told her that I had relocated to Abuja ooo. I showed her pictures of my new house, a very modern apartment with AC, a flat TV, huge couches, and a sleek interior. I even showed her the new car the company I run social media pages for gifted me, and she congratulated me. I asked her if she could come from Lagos to Abuja, and that if she couldn't, I'd understand. She said she can. But she told me she didn't have money for the bus fare, that ten kobo no dey her account. I sent her 20K for her bus fare. I told her I would give her money for the bus home on the day she would leave my place. That day, I kept calling her. She told me when she booked a bus, when she entered it, when they left the park, and when she reached Abuja, by 2 in the afternoon. Immediately she reached the park in Abuja, I called her and told her to take a bike to Gwarinpa and that once she reached there, she should give the bikeman the phone so I would give him directions to my house. After I ended the call with her, I switched off my phone. By the time I switched on my phone by 5 in the evening, streams of texts pinged into my Facebook. 46 messages I had received from her. I called her and as soon as she picked up, she started shouting at me. She said she was stranded on the road and had been calling me, that I knew she didn't have any money on her, not even her in her bank account, that she didn't like this, that I should quickly pick her up from the junction. I told me that I was sorry, and then I told her to flag down a bikeman so I would give him directions to my house. Immediately she hailed a bike and gave the man the phone, I asked the man to tell her to go home, that I didn't even know where Gwarinpa was in Abuja because I still live in Aba full full. I told him to tell her that however she manages to find her way home—that is if she finds her way home—I don't care. Then I switched off my phone again Follow me for more
    Positive
    2
    0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Reviews
  • "No One is Home"

    Episode 4: Beyond the Portal

    I emerged from the darkness, gasping for air. Emily's grip still held me tight. We stood in a realm beyond our world, surrounded by twisted, nightmarish landscapes.

    Emily's black eyes gleamed with excitement. "Welcome to our new home."

    Horror-stricken, I struggled to free myself. "Emily, snap out of it! What's happened to you?"

    Her smile faltered, revealing a glimpse of my friend beneath the darkness. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I couldn't resist. They promised me power."

    Suddenly, figures emerged from the shadows - twisted, human-like creatures with eyes that burned like embers.

    "Meet our family," Emily said, her voice dripping with malevolence.

    The creatures closed in, their eyes fixed on me. I realized:

    I had to escape.
    I had to save Emily.
    I had to destroy the entity controlling her.

    With newfound determination, I fought back. Emily's grip faltered, and I broke free.

    As I turned to flee, a voice boomed from the shadows: "You will never escape."

    The creatures gave chase, their twisted forms blurring as they pursued me.

    I sprinted through the nightmarish landscape, desperate to find a way back home.

    But the voice whispered in my ear: "You'll never find your way."

    Suddenly, a figure appeared before me - a girl with piercing green eyes.

    "Follow me," she whispered. "I can help you."
    "No One is Home" Episode 4: Beyond the Portal I emerged from the darkness, gasping for air. Emily's grip still held me tight. We stood in a realm beyond our world, surrounded by twisted, nightmarish landscapes. Emily's black eyes gleamed with excitement. "Welcome to our new home." Horror-stricken, I struggled to free myself. "Emily, snap out of it! What's happened to you?" Her smile faltered, revealing a glimpse of my friend beneath the darkness. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I couldn't resist. They promised me power." Suddenly, figures emerged from the shadows - twisted, human-like creatures with eyes that burned like embers. "Meet our family," Emily said, her voice dripping with malevolence. The creatures closed in, their eyes fixed on me. I realized: I had to escape. I had to save Emily. I had to destroy the entity controlling her. With newfound determination, I fought back. Emily's grip faltered, and I broke free. As I turned to flee, a voice boomed from the shadows: "You will never escape." The creatures gave chase, their twisted forms blurring as they pursued me. I sprinted through the nightmarish landscape, desperate to find a way back home. But the voice whispered in my ear: "You'll never find your way." Suddenly, a figure appeared before me - a girl with piercing green eyes. "Follow me," she whispered. "I can help you."
    0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Reviews
  • Dripping in Chelsea style.

    Introducing our new Nike Football Premium Collection, filled with high-quality jackets, overshirts and sweats - each with the black and pink trims continuing the theme of our third kit and trainingwear.

    Now available online and in the Megastore.
    Dripping in Chelsea style.💧 Introducing our new Nike Football Premium Collection, filled with high-quality jackets, overshirts and sweats - each with the black and pink trims continuing the theme of our third kit and trainingwear. Now available online and in the Megastore.
    0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Reviews
  • Dripping in Chelsea style.

    Introducing our new Nike Football Premium Collection, filled with high-quality jackets, overshirts and sweats - each with the black and pink trims continuing the theme of our third kit and trainingwear.

    Now available online and in the Megastore.
    Dripping in Chelsea style.💧 Introducing our new Nike Football Premium Collection, filled with high-quality jackets, overshirts and sweats - each with the black and pink trims continuing the theme of our third kit and trainingwear. Now available online and in the Megastore.
    0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Reviews
  • Why Did You Kill Me

    Jade had a dark secret. Years ago, in a fit of anger, she had pushed her childhood friend, Mara, into the river during an argument. Mara had drowned, and Jade had told everyone it was an accident. She tried to bury the memory, but every October, around the anniversary, Jade felt a presence watching her.

    One night, she awoke to soft whispers drifting through her room. The words were barely audible, but they sent a chill down her spine. "Why did you kill me?" the voice echoed, faint and full of sorrow.

    Jade sat up, her heart pounding, and tried to convince herself it was just a dream. But then she saw a figure standing in the corner, dripping wet, with hollow eyes that glowed faintly in the dark. It was Mara, her skin pale and bloated, hair tangled with weeds, and water pooling at her feet.

    Jade’s voice trembled. "M-Mara?" she whispered.

    Mara's ghostly figure moved closer, her hollow eyes fixed on Jade. "Why did you kill me?" she repeated, louder this time, her voice distorted and filled with rage.

    Jade tried to scream, but her voice caught in her throat. She scrambled backward, but Mara reached out, her icy, wet hands gripping Jade's wrists. "You left me to die, Jade. Now, you'll feel what I felt."

    Jade felt water rise around her, though she was still in her bedroom. It filled her mouth, her lungs, suffocating her, as if she were drowning in that river again. Just as she thought she couldn’t breathe any longer, the water vanished, leaving her gasping for air. But Mara’s voice lingered in the room, repeating, “Why did you kill me?”

    From that night on, Jade was never alone. Every mirror, every shadow, every whisper in the night reminded her of Mara’s last words. And, year by year, Mara’s ghost continued to drag her closer to the depths of that cold, dark river.
    Why Did You Kill Me Jade had a dark secret. Years ago, in a fit of anger, she had pushed her childhood friend, Mara, into the river during an argument. Mara had drowned, and Jade had told everyone it was an accident. She tried to bury the memory, but every October, around the anniversary, Jade felt a presence watching her. One night, she awoke to soft whispers drifting through her room. The words were barely audible, but they sent a chill down her spine. "Why did you kill me?" the voice echoed, faint and full of sorrow. Jade sat up, her heart pounding, and tried to convince herself it was just a dream. But then she saw a figure standing in the corner, dripping wet, with hollow eyes that glowed faintly in the dark. It was Mara, her skin pale and bloated, hair tangled with weeds, and water pooling at her feet. Jade’s voice trembled. "M-Mara?" she whispered. Mara's ghostly figure moved closer, her hollow eyes fixed on Jade. "Why did you kill me?" she repeated, louder this time, her voice distorted and filled with rage. Jade tried to scream, but her voice caught in her throat. She scrambled backward, but Mara reached out, her icy, wet hands gripping Jade's wrists. "You left me to die, Jade. Now, you'll feel what I felt." Jade felt water rise around her, though she was still in her bedroom. It filled her mouth, her lungs, suffocating her, as if she were drowning in that river again. Just as she thought she couldn’t breathe any longer, the water vanished, leaving her gasping for air. But Mara’s voice lingered in the room, repeating, “Why did you kill me?” From that night on, Jade was never alone. Every mirror, every shadow, every whisper in the night reminded her of Mara’s last words. And, year by year, Mara’s ghost continued to drag her closer to the depths of that cold, dark river.
    0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Reviews
  • You must be shapeless, formless, like water. When you pour water in a cup, it becomes the cup. When you pour water in a bottle, it becomes the bottle. When you pour water in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Water can drip and it can crash. Become like water my friend.
    You must be shapeless, formless, like water. When you pour water in a cup, it becomes the cup. When you pour water in a bottle, it becomes the bottle. When you pour water in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Water can drip and it can crash. Become like water my friend.
    0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Reviews
  • Nawaooooh
    Indian Billionaire invites Davido’s secret son who spends 500M weekly just on drip
    Money is talking 🙌🏾🙌🏾

    Davido’s secret son JesuisYoungkobo and his boss @je suis kobo are presently in India and Rumors hotter than Igbo man’s pepper soup has it that they were invited by the Indian Billionaire to promote their soon to be released song titled “Baba” while some people say that they went to collect Indian herbs and juju oil like 666 Metric Tones

    Wahala dey like jehovah witness inside club!!

    Can’t wait to see the outcome
    Please follow Base AfrBase AfricaBase Africa
    Nawaooooh 😳 Indian Billionaire invites Davido’s secret son who spends 500M weekly just on drip🥶😱 Money is talking 🙌🏾🙌🏾 Davido’s secret son JesuisYoungkobo and his boss @je suis kobo are presently in India and Rumors hotter than Igbo man’s pepper soup has it that they were invited by the Indian Billionaire to promote their soon to be released song titled “Baba” while some people say that they went to collect Indian herbs and juju oil like 666 Metric Tones😂 Wahala dey like jehovah witness inside club!! Can’t wait to see the outcome Please follow Base AfrBase AfricaBase Africa
    0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Reviews
  • WHO'S THE GIRL 👩🏽‍🦰 IN MY BATHROOM?

    I bought a packet of cond*ms from the pharmacy across the street.
    My girlfriend, Chiamaka , would be visiting in an hour. We haven't seen each other for a while – in over three months.
    This was because I had traveled to the city for a business, and she had resumed school, too. I informed her of my return to my town, and she promised to visit me day.
    Knowing that we had missed and craved each other for a long period, I bought many cond*ms because I know we would need them.
    I had already finished making the pot of chicken stew which we would enjoy when my phone suddenly dinged, signaling a new message on WhatsApp.

    I tapped my phone open and viewed the message. My face cracked into a big smile as I read the text from Chiamaka ; "I'm at your door. Please, open it." I washed my hands, grabbed my perfume, and quickly sprayed it on me and around the room.
    Then I rushed to unlock the door for her. Chiamaka looked as pretty as ever when I swung my door open.
    If anything, she looked more beautiful than the last time I saw her.

    👨🏾: "You're here, babe," I said, smiling.

    No sooner had I said that than she rushed into my arms, embracing me tightly.

    👩🏽‍🦰: "Brian..I've missed you so much," she said as her hands wrapped around my neck.

    👨🏾: "I've missed you, too, baby," I admitted as I rubbed my hand on her back, and at the same, my face leaned forward to kiss her. Her puckered lips met mine halfway. Her soft, wet lips bit mine mildly as we engaged in a hot salivary fumbling.
    I drew us inside and shut the door close without breaking the kiss.
    My rough hands reached up to cup her massive brēasts, weighing them with my palms. I fondled and squeezed her soft breāsts.

    👩🏽‍🦰: "Brian..."

    Chiamaka moaned as I tweaked her hard nipplēs between my finger just the way she liked it. My hands sneaked behind her, cupping the soft mounds of her Nyash.
    Very slowly, I kissed her neck, using my hand to draw up her skirt, softly caressing her dripping .

    👩🏽‍🦰: "Wait!" Chiamaka whispered, breaking free from my hold.

    👨🏾: "What?" I asked with deep lust in my eyes.

    👩🏽‍🦰: "Let me fix myself up in the bathroom,"
    Chiamaka explained as she dropped her bag, heading in the direction of my bathroom. "We'll continue after I'm done."

    👨🏾: "Okay," I said as I flopped onto my bed, resting my head on the pillow as I waited for her to finish.

    I knew that she would take time because she always does whenever she left to 'fix' herself, so I busied myself with my phone. I opened Facebook, scrolling through posts absentmindedly. Less than a minute later, an incoming text message displayed across my screen.
    It was from my best friend, Lugeon Reborn

    👨🏾: "Check this guy. Sorry!" Lugeon message read.

    Another message quickly followed, but it was a link this time.
    I followed the link to a post made by one of the most popular group on Facebook
    The post was about a tragic dēath of a female student in Uyo. The headline read "Female Student Knocked To Deāth By Drunk Driver."
    The news was shocking, but what was more shocking was the picture attached to it.
    It was a picture of Chiamaka!
    Her head was smashed, her hands and legs mangled and blōod soaking up her dress as she lay rigid on the road.
    Even though most of her features had been disfigured by the accidēnt, I could still recognize her very well.
    My heart pounded as I took all of this in; as I took in the day that the post was made – two days ago.
    If Chiamaka had diēd some days ago in an accident as the blog had shown, then who have I been chatting with since then?
    If Chiamaka, my girlfriend, was dēad as I clearly saw on the post, then who is the girl in my bathroom!

    Kuma Conrade VID's
    WHO'S THE GIRL 👩🏽‍🦰 IN MY BATHROOM? I bought a packet of cond*ms from the pharmacy across the street. My girlfriend, Chiamaka , would be visiting in an hour. We haven't seen each other for a while – in over three months. This was because I had traveled to the city for a business, and she had resumed school, too. I informed her of my return to my town, and she promised to visit me day. Knowing that we had missed and craved each other for a long period, I bought many cond*ms because I know we would need them. I had already finished making the pot of chicken🍗 stew🍲 which we would enjoy when my phone suddenly dinged, signaling a new message on WhatsApp. I tapped my phone open and viewed the message. My face cracked into a big smile as I read the text from Chiamaka ; "I'm at your door. Please, open it." I washed my hands, grabbed my perfume, and quickly sprayed it on me and around the room. Then I rushed to unlock the door for her. Chiamaka looked as pretty as ever when I swung my door open. If anything, she looked more beautiful than the last time I saw her. 👨🏾: "You're here, babe," I said, smiling. No sooner had I said that than she rushed into my arms, embracing me tightly. 👩🏽‍🦰: "Brian..I've missed you so much," she said as her hands wrapped around my neck. 👨🏾: "I've missed you, too, baby," I admitted as I rubbed my hand on her back, and at the same, my face leaned forward to kiss her. Her puckered lips met mine halfway. Her soft, wet lips bit mine mildly as we engaged in a hot salivary fumbling. I drew us inside and shut the door close without breaking the kiss. My rough hands reached up to cup her massive brēasts, weighing them with my palms. I fondled and squeezed her soft breāsts. 👩🏽‍🦰: "Brian..." Chiamaka moaned as I tweaked her hard nipplēs between my finger just the way she liked it. My hands sneaked behind her, cupping the soft mounds of her Nyash. Very slowly, I kissed her neck, using my hand to draw up her skirt, softly caressing her dripping 🍑. 👩🏽‍🦰: "Wait!" Chiamaka whispered, breaking free from my hold. 👨🏾: "What?" I asked with deep lust in my eyes. 👩🏽‍🦰: "Let me fix myself up in the bathroom," Chiamaka explained as she dropped her bag, heading in the direction of my bathroom. "We'll continue after I'm done." 👨🏾: "Okay," I said as I flopped onto my bed, resting my head on the pillow as I waited for her to finish. I knew that she would take time because she always does whenever she left to 'fix' herself, so I busied myself with my phone. I opened Facebook, scrolling through posts absentmindedly. Less than a minute later, an incoming text message displayed across my screen. It was from my best friend, Lugeon Reborn 👨🏾: "Check this guy. Sorry!" Lugeon message read. Another message quickly followed, but it was a link this time. I followed the link to a post made by one of the most popular group on Facebook The post was about a tragic dēath of a female student in Uyo. The headline read "Female Student Knocked To Deāth By Drunk Driver." The news was shocking, but what was more shocking was the picture attached to it. It was a picture of Chiamaka! Her head was smashed, her hands and legs mangled and blōod soaking up her dress as she lay rigid on the road. Even though most of her features had been disfigured by the accidēnt, I could still recognize her very well. My heart pounded as I took all of this in; as I took in the day that the post was made – two days ago. If Chiamaka had diēd some days ago in an accident as the blog had shown, then who have I been chatting with since then? If Chiamaka, my girlfriend, was dēad as I clearly saw on the post, then who is the girl in my bathroom! Kuma Conrade VID's
    0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Reviews
  • Nawooooo dem say na so cockroach be for
    #E_Money house.

    How true is this??

    ®√ Heis Zinodripx
    Nawooooo dem say na so cockroach be for #E_Money house. How true is this?? ®√ Heis Zinodripx
    0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Reviews
Sponsored
Sponsored