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Story: Crossroads….. Episode 1 || By Mc Dahmie


Hi, my name is Hope, I am a female of 20 Years, I live in Lagos where I currently work at a restaurant as a waitress which I had started about 2 months. I want to share about my sad experience of life. My life as been so far full of sad events to which I had to overcome.

I was born into the a family so poor that even among the poor in the village we were rated poor. My little brother had died from my parents inability to source for money for the money for his treatment. I went to the village primary school and secondary for free and my parents still struggled to feed themselves and myself, my father and mother worked as farmers but they never owned any land, they would farm for other people and during harvesting period my mother would take it to the market and deliver the money realised to the land owner and only got little share in return but they continued with hope that it would be better one day. My father once told me that he believe I had come to better their lives and that was why he named me Hope.

During my secondary education my parents weren’t able to afford my textbooks as they were too expensive for them but the friends I had that were willing to help me were those I had to borrow their textbooks after classes so as to understand what had been taught, I had little friends, many of my school mates didn’t want to associate themselves with the daughter of a pauper even many teachers disliked me, I wore a uniform patched in so many places, but my grades were of average, we were allowed to write our senior class examination for free which I passed and that was the end of education for me but I still wish to further more.

After my parents had concluded they couldn’t afford to pay my tution fee for my university education, my Father had passed on the same night they told me they couldn’t help me anymore and the shock led to my mother’s death three days after the cause of his death was mysterious to me cause he didn’t look like someone leaving the world anytime soon, I cried my eyes out.

Aunty Stella, my mother’s immediate younger sister came around and took me to Lagos where she stayed with her husband, with whom she has no child for. Her husband was a tall, fat and pot-bellied man, they lived a standard life as they could pay for a self-contained apartment, her husband works as a full-time pastor at a new generation church but he didn’t really exhibit the characters of a real pastor, he says dirty things at times and I really hate him. I don’t hate him because he is a pastor and he doesn’t behave as such but because of the day I had to return home from the shop which aunty Stella owned and found him lying on the couch with just a khaki short. I was a bit surprised to meet him at home, he ought to be at the church at this time of the day, but I just greeted him and took permission to go into the other room where I was to pick the item I was sent and he granted me the permission. I quickly opened the door and began searching just then I heard the door closing behind me but I thought it was the wind so ignored looking at the direction of the door, as I was searching under the bed for the item. I had a feeling something was moving closer to me so I quickly pulled out and to my uttermost amazement I found my aunt’s husband as the moving object.


›››The Story Continues‹‹‹


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