NewStats: 3,265,247 , 8,186,122 topics. Date: Saturday, 14 June 2025 at 04:59 AM 3e23r

Isidore

Your name, a melody I’ve learned to hum,
Each syllable, a spark, a beating drum.
Your words, like fire, set my mind aglow,
A pen so sharp, yet smooth as flow.

Laughter dances on your lips so free,
A wit so rare, it captures me.
Yet in your gaze, a shadow plays,
A mystery wrapped in midnight haze.

Radiance spills from your smiling face,
Like dawn’s embrace, a tender grace.
Firstborn strength in every stride,
A heart so fierce, yet soft inside.

Isidore, oh what a name,
Etched in echoes, carved in flame.
If love’s a tale, then let it be,
That every page, you write with me.

#Azyrixworld
#bastions of creativity
©Voice of Dora

So I'll be doing most of the posting in my channel..

If you want to enjoy first hand oh this story



https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaaKXfTDZ4LdVlmdPM3t

Title: The List (Sochi's POV)

It was Nkemjika who gave me the nickname. "Isidore," he called me one evening as we chatted. He said it sounded mysterious, like a character straight out of one of my stories. I smiled at that. He had no idea how fitting the name was. I my pseudo name was Sochi. That’s what I used for my stories, my craft, my real self. But Isidore? It worked too. It made me feel… human.

Nkem was different. Not like the others. Most people who followed my work only skimmed the surface, but Nkem read every word, peeled back every layer. He understood me or so he thought. And because of that, I let him in. Not completely, of course. Never completely. But just enough.

“You write so vividly,” he told me once. “It’s like you’ve been in the mind of a killer.”

I laughing at that. If only he knew. But I liked him, in my own way. He didn’t recoil when I said dark things. Didn’t flinch when I joked about death or loss. Instead, he leaned in, fascinated, as if my darkness was a puzzle he could solve.

I decided to test him one night. I told him about my list.

“You know, I keep a list of people who’ve wronged me,” I said casually, letting my words hang in the air. “Helps me write better. Gives me… inspiration.”

He laughed, just like I thought he would. “You must have some imagination. What kind of wrongs are we talking about?”

His curiosity pleased me. He wasn’t running, wasn’t calling me crazy. He stayed. That was his first mistake.


The list isn’t just words. It’s art. Every name, every person, is a story waiting to be written. Some I finish quickly a single, sharp moment, like slicing through paper. Others I savor, letting the tension build until the climax is inevitable.

Nkem fascinated me from the start. He was so eager to connect, to be seen. I knew he would be on the list the moment he messaged me. But I didn’t want to rush it. That was the mistake I’d made with others giving in too soon, ending their stories before I’d fully explored them.

No, with Nkem, I wanted to take my time.


One night, I let my guard down. It was late, and I’d been drinking just enough to feel the edges blur. The messages I sent him grew darker, more intimate. I told him things I’d never told anyone else not even the others before him.

“You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?” I asked.

“Of course not,” he said. “You’re just… intense.”

Intense. The word lingered in my mind long after our conversation ended. He didn’t call me insane. Didn’t pull away. Instead, he stayed.

That was when I knew. He belonged to me now.



The night I visited him was perfect. I’d been planning it for weeks, watching him, learning his routines. I stood outside his window, just out of sight, and watched the glow of his phone light up his face. He looked confused, frightened, vulnerable.

I tapped on the glass, just lightly, a sound that could easily be dismissed as the wind. He didn’t look, but I could see his breathing quicken. My phone buzzed in my hand as I typed the message.

“Don’t look outside. Not yet. Let me savor this moment.”

I watched him freeze, the phone slipping from his hand. The fear radiated off him, thick and intoxicating. I stayed there for a while, watching as he paced the room, his movements frantic and aimless.

When I finally left, I made sure to leave the list on his desk. His name was at the top, crossed out in bold red ink.

The next morning, when they found him, they’d know he wasn’t just another name. He was the masterpiece.

He was unforgettable. Just like I promised.

©Voice of Dora
#azyrixworld

The List

Nkemjika had always been fascinated by dark literature. He loved reading macabre tales that sent shivers down his spine and made him question the world around him. So, when he stumbled upon a post by a young writer named Sochi her ability to craft chilling, atmospheric horror pulled him in instantly.

Her posts were raw and unnervingly vivid, almost as if she had lived the terror herself. She described nightmares that felt too specific, too detailed. Intrigued, Nkemjika reached out to her, commending her work. To his surprise, she responded warmly. Over time, their casual exchanges morphed into regular conversations.

Sochi appeared like any ordinary young woman, though a bit reserved. She was soft-spoken but intelligent, with a dark sense of humor that matched Nkemjika’s. They bonded over shared interests in horror stories, true crime, and the occasional existential joke about death. Nkemjika ired her creativity, but he couldn’t shake the unsettling undertone in some of her messages.

“You write so vividly,” he once complimented. “It’s almost like you’ve been in the mind of a killer.”

She responded with a laugh emoji. “Sometimes, you just have to imagine hard enough. Or… maybe you don’t need to imagine at all.”

At first, he chalked it up to her being playful. Writers of horror often had a flair for the dramatic, didn’t they? But then, things shifted.

One evening, while chatting about writing inspiration, Isidore confessed something strange. “You know, I keep a list of all the people who’ve wronged me. It helps me write. I like to imagine what their last thoughts would be if I ever… you know… did something.”

“That’s… unique,” Nkemjika replied, unsure of how to react. “So, what do you do with that list?”

Her reply came quickly. “Oh, I just cross names off when I feel like they’ve paid for their sins. Sometimes, in my head. Sometimes… not.”

He stared at his screen, her words sending a chill down his spine. Was she joking? He laughed it off awkwardly, typing, “You have quite the imagination.”

“Imagination is the bridge to action,” she responded.

That was when the secrets began spilling. She started telling him about the darkness in her. At first, they were innocent enough how she once fantasized about disappearing from society or writing under a pseudonym so no one could trace her back. But the stories grew darker.

She shared how she loved watching fear in people’s eyes. How she kept little trophies from people who hurt her buttons, locks of hair, and sometimes… teeth.

“I’m joking,” she would always add at the end, but the laughter in her tone never felt genuine.

Nkemjika grew uneasy but didn’t want to confront her directly. Instead, he decided to slowly pull away. But Isidore didn’t let him.

“You’re such a good friend, Nkem,” she told him one night. “I feel like I can tell you anything.”

And then came the final message that froze his blood.

“I think you’re special. That’s why you’re on my list.”

His fingers trembled as he typed back, trying to keep his composure. “Your list of what?”

Her reply was slow this time. “People worth ing. You’d be surprised how few there are. But don’t worry, Nkemjika. I’ll make sure you’re unforgettable.”

He tried to block her after that, but somehow, she always found a way back into his inbox new s, anonymous messages, and even handwritten letters that started arriving at his doorstep.

One night, he woke to the sound of a faint knock on his window. The room was pitch black, and he couldn’t bring himself to look. But then his phone buzzed. It was a message from her.

“Don’t look outside. Not yet. Let me savor this moment.”

Nkemjika’s blood ran cold. His phone slipped from his trembling hand as the knock on the window turned into a slow, deliberate scratching sound.

The next morning, Nkemjika’s neighbors found his door ajar, his apartment eerily silent. On his desk sat a single piece of paper with a list of names. His name was at the top, crossed out in bold red ink.

At the bottom of the page, a final note read:

“Unforgettable. Just like I promised.”

Chapter 7; beneath the bark


Chukwu knelt at the base of the glowing tree, his gaze fixed on the small shoots that sprouted from its roots, mirroring the pale, ethereal glow of the larger tree. His fingers traced the thin stems, feeling a subtle pulse of energy radiating through the plants. They were unlike anything he had seen before, and yet, there was a strange familiarity to them.

The memory of Ikenna, the hunter, flashed through his mind. The wild tale he had told the village after he returned from the forest had always haunted Chukwu. Ikenna had spoken of mushrooms deep within the Igodo that had driven his men mad after consuming them. The sickness, the madness—it had taken many, and the survivors were left forever changed, their eyes hollow, their spirits broken.

Could these glowing shoots be the same plants Ikenna had mentioned?

Chukwu couldn’t be sure, but his instincts told him this wasn’t a coincidence. The energy coursing through these plants, subtle as it was, held the promise of something ancient, something powerful. And he was not leaving the forest without understanding what it was.

With careful hands, he dug into the soft soil around the shoots. The earth was surprisingly loose, as though the roots of these young plants barely clung to the ground. He managed to extract a handful of the shoots, each one emitting a faint glow, their roots pulsing with life. There was a strange, almost hypnotic beauty to them.

He stood, placing the delicate plants into his bag. His thoughts raced as he considered the implications. These plants could be the key to understanding the mysteries of the Igodo Forest. And more importantly, they could provide answers about his father’s disappearance. The forest had taken his father, and now it seemed to be offering Chukwu a path to uncovering its secrets.

But as he gathered the last of the shoots, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking a dangerous line. The stories, the legends—they all pointed to the same thing: the forest was alive, and it didn’t like being disturbed.

He glanced at the towering tree one last time before turning to leave, his bag now heavier with the weight of his discovery. The forest seemed quieter now, as if watching him, waiting to see what he would do next.

As he made his way back toward the village, Chukwu’s mind remained consumed with questions. Was this really the same plant that had driven Ikenna and his men mad? Or was this something else entirely—something that could help him unlock the secrets of the forest?

The village came into view, and with it, the familiar sights and sounds of daily life. But Chukwu felt a growing distance between himself and everything around him. While others carried on with their routines, unaware of what lay hidden in the depths of the forest, Chukwu’s world had shifted. He had seen something that couldn’t be unseen, and now the responsibility of that knowledge weighed heavily on his shoulders.

He paused at the edge of the village, glancing down at his bag filled with the glowing plants. What now? he thought to himself. He needed to test these plants, to find out what kind of properties they held. But he couldn’t do it here, not with the limited resources at his disposal.

That’s when a plan began to form in his mind.
And as he headed back home, the glow of the plants in his bag seemed to grow a little brighter, pulsing with the energy of secrets yet to be revealed.

Chukwu hurried through the narrow paths of the village, his mind racing with thoughts of the plants nestled in his bag. He kept his head low, avoiding the curious gazes of villagers, knowing that his discovery needed to remain hidden for now. The weight of secrecy pressed down on him with every step. He couldn’t afford any mistakes—not yet.

He slipped into his family’s compound, carefully shutting the door behind him. The familiar sounds of the household—a goat bleating in the yard, the distant clatter of his mother cooking—seemed foreign to him now. His focus was elsewhere, and the normalcy of life outside felt like a fragile illusion.

Without delay, Chukwu moved to the small wooden table in the corner of his room, clearing off the clutter of notes and old books. He reached into his bag, pulling out the glowing plants, laying them on the table with care. Their faint glow illuminated the dimly lit room, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

He bent closer, his eyes scanning the thin stems and delicate leaves. There was no doubt—these plants were different, more than just vegetation. The strange energy they emitted pulsed in rhythm with something primal, something Chukwu couldn’t quite grasp yet. He had seen plants mutate before, especially in areas where pollution or industrial waste was rampant, but this… this was beyond anything science had shown him.

Could this be the beginning of something far bigger?

The thought both excited and terrified him. He reached for his notebook, quickly sketching the plants and jotting down observations.

(Root system—minimal, barely clings to soil. Coloration—pale green with silver undertones. Energy output—faint glow, rhythmic pulse every 2.3 seconds. Possible connection to Ikenna's mushrooms?)

But there were still so many questions. Why were these plants growing here, and why were they emitting this strange glow? What role did the larger tree play, and how deep did its roots go into the history of the Igodo Forest?

Chukwu sat back, rubbing his temples. He needed more information. He needed resources, proper tools to analyze these samples. But he couldn’t turn to Dr. Maria just yet. He wasn’t ready for her sharp eyes and even sharper mind. He had to understand it more himself first.

Just as he was lost in thought, a knock at the door startled him. His heart skipped a beat.

"Chukwu, are you in there?" His mother’s voice echoed through the wooden door.

"Yes, Mama, I’m here." He quickly gathered the plants, wrapping them in a cloth and tucking them away in the corner of his bag before standing to open the door.

His mother peered inside, her eyes narrowing slightly as she scanned the room. "You’ve been awfully quiet. Everything okay?"

Chukwu forced a smile. "Yes, just working on something for my CV to send for a Job in the city, that’s all. I’ll be heading to the lab soon."

His mother looked at him for a moment, concern still clouding her features. "Just be careful, Chukwu. You’ve been spending too much time in your own head lately. You need to rest."

"I will, Mama, I promise," he lied, knowing full well that sleep would not come easily for him tonight.

She lingered for a moment longer before giving a soft sigh and retreating. Once the door closed behind her, Chukwu exhaled, feeling the tension ease slightly.

He sat back at his table, his mind already churning with the next steps. He would need to test the plants in secret, using the equipment at the lab when no one was around. It was risky, but he had to know what he was dealing with.

He glanced out the window, where the last sliver of sunlight was dipping below the horizon, casting the village in shadows. The forest, now a dark silhouette against the fading sky, loomed in the distance. Its secrets, still hidden in the depths, beckoned him once again.

Later, he would return to the lab. But now, his thoughts would be with the forest, and the ancient mystery that seemed to be creeping ever closer to the surface. The veil was thinning, and Chukwu knew it was only a matter of time before it would be lifted entirely.

Chapter 6 : 5 days later


The sun was high, casting sharp shadows across the village square as Chukwu made his way toward the edge of the forest. Each step was measured, purposeful. The conversation with Kelechi lingered in his mind, heavy with warnings. But despite the old man’s words, Chukwu felt the pull of the Igodo Forest stronger than ever. His heart drummed in his chest, a steady rhythm that echoed the call of the trees.

The village behind him seemed to fade, the laughter of children and the clatter of daily chores dissolving into the background as the towering trees came into view. Their dense canopy, mottled with rays of sunlight, greeted him like silent sentinels. The edge of the forest was familiar—he had been here many times, peering into the depths but never truly seeing what lay beyond. Not until last night.

He paused at the tree line, his breath shallow. For a brief moment, doubt crept in. He had been warned his entire life about the dangers of this place, stories of people disappearing, losing themselves to the forest’s madness. But there was something inside him now, something that refused to let go. He had seen the tree of light. He couldn’t stop until he knew more.

With a final glance back at the village, Chukwu stepped into the forest.

The air changed immediately, cooler, thicker. It was as if the forest had its own atmosphere, different from the world outside. Each step felt deliberate, the ground beneath him soft, almost spongy, as if the forest floor itself was alive. The sounds of the village faded completely, replaced by the soft rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of an unseen creature.

Chukwu walked slowly, his eyes scanning every detail around him. The trees were old, their thick trunks gnarled and twisted, their bark darkened by age. Moss clung to their roots, winding like veins along the ground, pulsing with life. He had never noticed the forest’s vibrancy before. It was as though, now that he had seen the tree of light, the entire forest had come alive in a way it never had before.

He ventured deeper, the path becoming less clear as the underbrush thickened. The sun struggled to penetrate the dense canopy, casting the forest in a perpetual twilight. It felt timeless, as though the forest existed outside the world he knew. Time moved differently here, slower, or perhaps not at all.

Chukwu’s mind wandered back to his father. The stories of his disappearance were vague, a whispered legend in the village. Some said he had ventured into the forest in search of knowledge, others claimed he had gone mad long before he entered. Chukwu’s mother refused to speak of it, and Kelechi, though once a friend of his father, had only ever offered cryptic warnings. Now, more than ever, Chukwu felt connected to the man he had lost so long ago.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp crack in the distance. He froze, his heart pounding in his chest. For a moment, everything was still. Then, another sound—a low, groaning noise, like wood bending under immense pressure. It came from somewhere deeper in the forest.

Chukwu’s instincts told him to turn back, to retreat to the safety of the village, but his feet moved forward, driven by something stronger than fear. He stepped carefully, his ears straining for any sound, his eyes searching the gloom for any sign of movement.

Then he saw it.

Up ahead, through a thick veil of vines and leaves, the ground sloped downward into a shallow ravine. At the bottom of the ravine, nestled between the roots of an enormous tree, was the same glowing light he had seen the night before. His breath caught in his throat as he made his way toward it, his heart racing.

The tree of light stood before him, its bark shimmering with that strange, pulsating glow. It was larger than he ed, its roots sprawling outward like the limbs of some ancient creature. The air around it hummed with energy, vibrating with a rhythm that seemed to match his own heartbeat.

Chukwu stepped closer, the light growing stronger with each step. He reached out, his fingers trembling as they grazed the surface of the tree’s bark. It was warm, almost alive, and as his hand made , a surge of energy shot through him, filling his body with a strange, euphoric sensation.

His vision blurred for a moment, the world around him spinning. He stumbled back, his heart racing, but the sensation quickly faded, leaving him breathless and disoriented. He stood there, staring at the tree, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

The tree pulsed again, its light flickering like a heartbeat. Chukwu felt it deep within his chest, as if the tree was speaking to him, communicating in a language he couldn’t understand but could feel. He took a deep breath and stepped forward again, determined to understand.

As he examined the tree more closely, he noticed something strange. Beneath the glowing bark, there were faint, almost imperceptible markings, like symbols carved into the wood. They were ancient, worn by time, but still visible, their meaning lost to the ages. Chukwu traced the symbols with his fingers, feeling the rough texture of the bark beneath his skin.

What could they mean?

Suddenly, a low, rumbling sound echoed through the ravine. The ground beneath his feet trembled, and the tree’s glow intensified, casting eerie shadows across the forest floor. Chukwu stumbled backward, his eyes wide with fear as the tree seemed to come alive, its branches swaying as if moved by an invisible force.

A gust of wind swept through the ravine, stirring the leaves around him. Chukwu’s heart raced as he looked around, trying to find the source of the disturbance. The air was thick with tension, the energy around him building to a crescendo.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the rumbling stopped. The forest fell silent, the tree’s glow fading back to its original, faint pulse. Chukwu stood there, his body trembling, his mind reeling from what he had just experienced.

He didn’t understand what had happened, but he knew one thing for certain—the Igodo Forest was far more than just a place of legend. There was something ancient here, something powerful. And whatever it was, it was far from finished with him.

As he turned to drop the backpack he carried with him, his mind raced with questions. What was the tree of light? What did the symbols mean? And, most importantly, what had his father known about this place?

metalgear11:


No be me get am oh. It's the elders . I also "borrowed" it myself .

I know it's the elders , But I don't know if you're also an elder. Na why I want borrow..

Oya na let's go look for the elders together

sochey:


Okay, sounds good. Can I contribute too?

Sure you can..

WhatsApp
Facebook
Instagram

Or mail

metalgear11:


Aja to ma sonu ko ni gbo fere olode. (The dog that will get lost won't listen to the whistle of the hunter)

I like this proverb mind if I borrow it??

sochey:

This literally gave me goosebumps “You promised forever. Now, we'll burn together” epic

I have like 12 short dark stories..

I'm thinking of making them 25.. maybe put it on Amazon or just post them online.

The Main title is "The day before I die"

Forever

Nina sat in the dimly lit apartment, her hands trembling as she cradled the glass of wine. The anniversary dinner was perfect, or so she'd thought. Candlelight flickered, reflecting off the ornate mirror that hung on the wall a wedding gift from Ethan.

She’d stumbled upon the text messages that afternoon. Ethan wasn’t working late as he’d claimed. He was with her. The one who always laughed too hard at his jokes.

The front door creaked open, and Ethan walked in, his smile faltering when he saw her. “Nina… why are you still up?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” she whispered, gesturing to the table. Two plates of untouched food sat between them.

Ethan hesitated. “Look, I can explain”

“Explain?” Nina interrupted, standing now, the glass still in her hand. “You love her, don’t you?”

His silence was deafening. That was all the answer she needed.

The glass shattered against his temple before he could react, blood mixing with spilled wine. Ethan crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath, betrayal etched into his fading eyes.

Nina knelt beside him, her voice eerily calm. “You promised forever.”

She stood, walked to the kitchen, and turned on the gas. The faint hiss filled the silence as she picked up the flickering anniversary candle.

As flames consumed the room, Nina whispered to the fire, “Now, we’ll burn together.”

The Whistling Man

The villagers always warned against the old forest path at dusk. They whispered of The Whistling Man, a shadow that roamed when the sun dipped, his eerie tune chilling even the boldest souls.

Ada, stubborn and skeptical, dismissed the tales as mere folklore. On a bet, she chose to walk the path at sunset. As she ventured deeper into the woods, silence enveloped her. No birds sang, no leaves rustled. Then, it started.

A low, haunting whistle.

At first, it sounded far away, like a distant echo. But with each step she took, the melody grew louder, more menacing. Ada's heart raced as she quickened her pace, but the whistle matched her stride. When she stopped, it stopped.

"Who's there?" she yelled into the shadows. No reply came only the tune resuming, closer now.

She broke into a sprint, the haunting melody chasing her like a predator. The forest seemed endless, the trees closing in. Suddenly, the whistle stopped.

She turned. Silence. Relief washed over her.

But as she exhaled, a cold breath touched her ear.

"You shouldn’t have come," whispered a voice, before the whistle began again, inside her head.

Ada was never seen again.

Chapter 5 : Spectral light.


Chukwu lay on his bed, wide awake, his mind replaying the events of the previous night like a film he couldn’t turn off. Every image of that strange, glowing tree in the depths of the Igodo Forest was seared into his memory. The pulsating light, the eerie hum in the air, and the unsettling feeling of being watched by something ancient, something alive, gripped him with a sense of both awe and dread. It was as though the forest had awakened, and with it, something had begun to stir within Chukwu himself.

He had ventured deeper into the Igodo Forest than anyone dared to go, and what he saw defied logic. The glow from the tree had felt otherworldly, yet somehow familiar, like a memory that wasn’t his. He had spent years hearing whispers about the forest—legends ed down through generations, warnings wrapped in half-truths. Yet none of them had prepared him for this.

As the first rays of morning light filtered through his thin curtains, Chukwu sat up, rubbing his eyes. His body ached from the strain of last night’s journey, but his mind was too alive, too restless to care. The sun cast golden beams across his modest room, illuminating the mess of papers and books strewn about. But today, even the familiar comforts of home couldn’t shake the unease settling in his chest.

A soft knock at the door broke through his thoughts.

"Chukwu, are you awake?" His mother's voice was calm, though there was a hint of concern in its cadence.

"I’m up," he replied, his voice rough from lack of sleep.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him as he stood. His limbs protested with every movement, but no physical exhaustion could compare to the mental whirlwind that raged within him. There was something waiting for him in that forest, something bigger than himself, and yet, he was no closer to understanding it.

He dressed quickly and made his way to the kitchen. The familiar aroma of roasted plantains and spiced beans greeted him, but today, the smell barely ed. His mother, always attuned to his moods, watched him carefully as he slumped into a chair at the small wooden table.

"You didn’t sleep," she said, setting a plate in front of him.

Chukwu nodded absently, his gaze fixed on a crack in the table’s surface.

His mother sat across from him, her eyes searching his face. "You were thinking about your father again, weren’t you?"

The mention of his father made Chukwu pause, his fork hovering above his untouched food. His father had been consumed by the Igodo Forest years ago, disappearing without a trace after venturing too far. People whispered about what happened to him, about how the forest drove him mad or swallowed him whole. But Chukwu knew there was more to it than that. His father had been obsessed with the forest, certain that it held answers to questions no one else dared ask.

But last night wasn’t just about his father. It was about something much older than either of them.

"There’s something in the forest," Chukwu said, his voice barely a whisper, "something ancient."

His mother’s expression hardened. "That forest is cursed, Chukwu. You know that. It’s taken too much already—your father, others before him. You need to stay away."

He looked at her, but his eyes were distant. "I saw something last night. It wasn’t just a tree… it was alive. It was glowing, like it had a heartbeat. I think it’s connected to everything—the legends, the stories, even what happened to Dad."

"Did you go to the forest?!" Mama Nkechi exclaimed, her voice trembling with a mix of shock and fear. "My enemies have killed me"

Chukwu's eyes widened, his mind racing. He hadn't expected her to react so strongly.

"No, Mama, I didn't go," he lied, attempting to downplay the encounter. "It was just a dream."

Mama Nkechi's gaze pierced through him, her eyes searching for the truth. "A dream?" she repeated, her tone skeptical.

Chukwu nodded vigorously. "Yes, Mama. Just a dream."

But Mama Nkechi's expression told a different story. She knew her son too well, and his lie hadn't convinced her.

"Chukwu, look at me," she commanded, her voice firm.

Chukwu met her gaze, trying to maintain the facade.

"Tell me the truth," she urged. "Did you go to the Igodo Forest?"

Chukwu's heart skipped a beat. He knew he couldn't reveal the truth.

"No, Mama," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mama Nkechi's eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched. "May God forgive you if you're lying to me."

The air was thick with tension as Chukwu struggled to maintain his deception.

His mother’s face paled. She leaned forward, her voice low and urgent. "Listen to me, Chukwu. The Igodo Forest has been off-limits for generations for a reason. Whatever you saw, it’s not meant for us. I can’t lose you like I lost him."

He wanted to tell her more, to explain the pull he felt toward the forest, but he knew she wouldn’t understand. Not yet. The truth was, even he didn’t fully understand. The forest was calling to him, and he couldn’t ignore it. He pushed his plate away and stood, his mother’s worried eyes following his every move.

"Just be careful," she whispered as he headed to the door. "I don’t want to lose you too."

Chukwu didn’t respond, but he nodded, more out of habit than assurance. He stepped outside, the warmth of the morning sun doing little to soothe the unease twisting inside him. As he walked toward the village, his mind was still in the forest, among the glowing trees and the strange hum of the earth.

The village was already buzzing with life. Children chased each other through the dusty streets, and vendors shouted out their wares. It was an ordinary day in the village, but Chukwu felt like a ghost moving through it, detached and consumed by the mystery of the Igodo.

As he approached the large baobab tree near the center of the village, he spotted Kelechi, the village man. The old man sat under the tree, his eyes sharp and bright despite his ragged appearance. He had always been seen as deranged, a relic of the past who spoke in riddles and warnings. But today, as Chukwu ed, Kelechi’s gaze locked onto his, and the old man beckoned him over.

"You went back," Kelechi said, his voice low but certain.

Chukwu sat beside him, the rough bark of the tree digging into his back. "I had to."

Kelechi nodded slowly, his eyes scanning the village, making sure no one was within earshot. "You saw the tree, didn’t you?"

Chukwu hesitated. "It was glowing… like it was alive."

The old man’s face remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of something—recognition, perhaps—behind his eyes. "The tree of light," Kelechi murmured, more to himself than to Chukwu.

"You know what it is?" Chukwu asked, his heart quickening.

Kelechi glanced around again before leaning in. "There are things in that forest that don’t belong to this world. Things older than our ancestors. That tree… it’s a gateway, a marker of something buried deep beneath the earth. Something powerful."

Chukwu felt a chill crawl down his spine. "What does it mean?"

Kelechi sighed, his weathered face softening with a rare hint of vulnerability. "It means you’re walking a path that most don’t survive. My advice? Be careful where you step. Some doors, once opened, can never be closed."

Chukwu wanted to press further, to ask more questions, but Kelechi’s expression made it clear the conversation was over. The old man stood slowly, his movements deliberate, as though the weight of his knowledge was too much to carry.

"You have your answers for now," Kelechi said, his voice a mere whisper. "But , curiosity is a dangerous thing."

Kelechi walked away, his warning echoed in Chukwu’s mind. The forest wasn’t finished with him, and he wasn’t finished with it. Whatever lay within its depths, he had to uncover the truth even if it cost him everything. The forest had already claimed him, it's secrets and mysteries beckoning him like a siren's call.

Chapter 4 ; A world beyond the Edge



The village of Igodo resumed its usual pace as the sun climbed higher into the sky, but for Chukwu, life had taken on a new meaning. The morning’s walk to the edge of the forest with Elder Odili lingered in his mind like a whispering voice he couldn’t silence. His grandfather's words weighed heavily on him, warnings of both beauty and peril, and yet, the pull of the unknown was undeniable.

After their return from the edge of the forest, Chukwu tried to immerse himself in the village routine, but his thoughts constantly drifted back to the looming trees, their intertwined branches casting shadows in his imagination. He visited the farm, checked on the goats, and even chatted with some friends at the market, but none of these usual activities held his attention for long.

That afternoon, while sitting outside his family’s small mud house, watching the sun slowly begin its descent, he made his decision. He would return to the forest—alone. He had already stood at its edge, and now the forest called to him in a way he could no longer ignore.

As twilight approached, casting long shadows over the village, Chukwu prepared for his secret journey. He slipped into his room and grabbed a small satchel, filling it with essentials: a water flask, a small knife for protection, and some dried meat for sustenance. His heart beat faster as he glanced around the room, as if the walls themselves might betray his plan. His mother’s voice floated in from the kitchen, where she was preparing dinner, but he ignored it. He needed to move quickly before anyone noticed his absence.

The village streets were quiet as dusk fell. Most of the villagers had returned to their homes, settling in for the evening. Chukwu kept to the shadows, moving silently past the familiar huts and narrow alleyways. His pulse quickened as he approached the path leading to the edge of the forest. It seemed more ominous now, cloaked in the fading light of day, the trees whispering their secrets as the wind rustled their branches.

With each step, the village grew smaller behind him, and the forest loomed larger ahead. The night was beginning to set in, painting the sky with hues of purple and deep blue. He paused for a moment at the edge of the forest, staring into the shadows that stretched before him. The towering trees stood like silent guardians, their dark branches intertwining overhead, forming a natural canopy that blocked out the fading light.

A shiver ran down his spine, but Chukwu pushed forward, his curiosity stronger than his fear. He had promised his grandfather he would be careful, but this was something he had to do. The forest called to him, and he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

He moved cautiously, his feet making soft crunching sounds as they pressed down on fallen leaves and twigs. The air was thick with the scent of earth and damp foliage, and the sounds of nocturnal creatures began to fill the air—the chirping of crickets, the rustle of animals in the underbrush. Every sound made Chukwu’s heart race, but he kept moving, determined to go deeper than he had ever gone before.

As he ventured further into the forest, the path became less distinct, the ground uneven and littered with rocks and roots that threatened to trip him. The trees here were taller, their trunks thicker, and their branches reached higher into the sky. It felt as though the forest itself were closing in on him, swallowing him whole. But still, he pressed on, driven by the allure of the unknown.

After what felt like hours of walking, Chukwu stopped to catch his breath. He leaned against the trunk of a massive tree, its bark rough against his back, and took a long drink from his water flask. His muscles ached from the effort, and sweat clung to his skin despite the cool night air. He knew he was deep inside the forest now, far beyond the boundary where his great-grandfather’s grave lay. He was in uncharted territory, a place where few had dared to venture.

Suddenly, a sound broke the stillness of the night a low, distant rumble that sent a chill down his spine. Chukwu froze, straining to listen. It wasn’t the sound of an animal, nor was it the wind. It was something else, something unnatural. His heart pounded in his chest as he scanned the darkness around him, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise.

The rumble grew louder, closer, and Chukwu’s instincts screamed at him to run. But his feet felt rooted to the spot, as if the forest itself were holding him in place. He clenched the knife in his hand, his eyes darting around the trees, but he saw nothing. Just darkness. Endless, suffocating darkness.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of movement a shadow darting between the trees. His breath caught in his throat, and he turned quickly, his heart racing. But when he looked, there was nothing there. Just more shadows, more darkness.

He took a step forward, his feet unsteady on the uneven ground, and then another. His pulse thundered in his ears as he moved deeper into the forest, his knife clutched tightly in his hand. Every instinct told him to turn back, to return to the safety of the village, but he couldn’t. Not now. Not when he was so close.

The sound came again, louder this time, and Chukwu turned sharply. His breath hitched in his throat as he saw it a faint glow in the distance, like a flicker of light deep within the trees. It was faint, barely visible through the thick undergrowth, but it was there. He took a step closer, his curiosity outweighing his fear.

As he moved toward the light, the forest seemed to shift around him. The trees, which had once stood tall and imposing, now felt like they were leaning in, as if watching him. The air grew colder, and a heavy sense of foreboding settled over him, but Chukwu couldn’t stop. The light beckoned him, drawing him deeper into the heart of the forest.

He pushed through the dense foliage, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The light grew brighter with each step, illuminating the path ahead. And then, suddenly, he stumbled into a small clearing. The ground here was soft, covered in a thick layer of moss, and in the center of the clearing stood a single tree, its bark glowing faintly in the darkness.

Chukwu stared in awe, his fear momentarily forgotten. The tree was unlike any he had ever seen. Its branches stretched high into the sky, but its bark shimmered with a Spectral light, as if it were alive with energy. He took a step closer, reaching out to touch it, but as his fingers brushed the bark, a strange sensation shot through him a jolt of electricity that made him gasp.

He pulled his hand back, his heart racing. What was this place? What was this tree? And why did it feel like it held the answers to the questions he had been seeking his whole life?

But before he could think any further, the ground beneath him shifted, and the soft rumble returned, this time accompanied by a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through the air. Chukwu’s heart leapt into his throat as the forest around him seemed to come alive, the trees swaying and the earth trembling beneath his feet.

Panic surged through him, and he turned to run, his legs moving faster than they ever had before. The glowing tree, the rumble, the shifting ground it all became a blur as he sprinted through the forest, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He didn’t stop, didn’t look back, until he burst through the edge of the forest, stumbling onto the familiar path that led back to the village.

Breathing heavily, he glanced back at the dark expanse of trees. The forest seemed still now, silent, as if nothing had happened. But Chukwu knew better. Something had awakened in the forest, something ancient and powerful. And it was only the beginning.

He made his way back to the village, his mind raced with questions. He had gone deeper than anyone before him, but the forest still held its secrets. The glow, the rumble, the strange energy what did it all mean? He knew one thing for certain: he would return. There was no turning back now. The mysteries of the Igodo Forest were far from solved, and Chukwu was determined to uncover them all.

Chapter 3 Edge of the forbidden



The next morning dawned bright and clear, the sun casting warm rays over the vibrant landscape of Igodo village. Birds sang from the trees, their melodies mingling with the sounds of the bustling village below. Chukwu, full of energy and excitement, quickly finished his breakfast of yam porridge and fresh fish before setting out with Elder Odili. The air was rich with the sounds of morning the distant laughter of children playing in the streets, the crowing of roosters heralding a new day, and the rhythmic hum of villagers beginning their daily routines.

As they walked, Elder Odili's gaze drifted toward the distant Igodo Forest. The dark canopy, thick and ancient, loomed over the village like a sentinel watching over generations of villagers who dared not cross its boundaries. It seemed to pulse with a life of its own, the towering trees standing as reminders of the untold stories within.

“Grandpa, is the atmosphere here always this eerie? It's like a world existing on its own. ,” Chukwu urged, his steps quickening as his curiosity got the better of him. He had heard countless stories about the Igodo Forest, but something about standing at its edge made the tales more real, more tangible.

Elder Odili sighed, a mixture of weariness and wisdom filling his gaze as he glanced at his grandson. “The forest holds many secrets, my boy, but it is not a place to be taken lightly. Many have entered, but few have returned unchanged. It is a realm of the unknown, filled with both beauty and peril.”

As they walked the narrow path leading to the forest's edge, the landscape around them began to change. The open, wide spaces of the village gave way to dense trees and vibrant greenery that seemed almost too vibrant, as though the forest held within it a world separate from the one they knew. Every step brought them closer to the unknown, a world of myths and shadows that existed only in whispers around the village hearth.

The path was lined with thick bushes and tall trees that seemed to block out the sun, creating a shadowy corridor that led directly to the imposing edge of the forest. The air grew cooler, and the sounds of the village faded into the background, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the occasional call of distant wildlife.

They finally reached the boundary of the Igodo Forest, where the towering trees loomed like ancient giants. Their branches intertwined above them, casting dark, intricate shadows on the ground. There was something about the forest that felt alive, as if it were watching them, waiting for something. Elder Odili paused, his expression becoming solemn as he gestured toward a small, unassuming grave marked by a weathered stone just off the path.

“This is where my great-grandfather was buried,” Elder Odili said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of generations of history. He knelt by the grave, his fingers brushing the stone as if to reconnect with the past. “Only family have crossed this path, Chukwu. Beyond here, no one from the village has dared to venture.”

Chukwu stepped closer, the gravity of the moment pressing down on him. He could feel the connection to the soil beneath his feet, the history that seemed to pulse through the very earth. “What did he say about the forest, Grandpa?”

Elder Odili’s eyes darkened, his voice tinged with an old sorrow. “He spoke of its beauty and its dangers. My great-grandfather warned my father that the forest is not to be trifled with. He said, ‘Ignorance is bliss, but knowledge can be a burden. There are things in this world that we are not meant to understand.’”

Chukwu swallowed hard, the knot in his stomach tightening as he listened. “What did he mean by that?” he asked, his voice softer now, aware of the unseen forces surrounding them.

Elder Odili turned to face him, his expression grave. “Sometimes, knowing too much can lead to great peril. The more you learn, the more you see the risks involved. The forest is not just a place of mystery; it is alive in ways we cannot fully comprehend. I hope you don’t go looking for death or for what will kill us, Chukwu,” he said, his voice heavy with concern. “There are forces here that are best left undisturbed.”

Chukwu nodded, feeling the weight of his grandfather’s words settle deep within him. His entire life had been driven by curiosity, the need to explore and understand. But now, standing at the edge of the Igodo Forest, he realized that this was more than just a simple journey of discovery. It was a test—one that had claimed the lives of those before him.

“I understand, Grandpa. I promise to be cautious,” Chukwu said, though even as he spoke the words, he felt the undeniable pull of the forest calling to him, whispering promises of secrets yet to be uncovered.

Elder Odili studied his grandson, his eyes searching for any hint of recklessness, any sign that Chukwu might disregard the warnings he had just received. “Curiosity is a powerful drive, Chukwu, but it can also lead to our undoing,” he said after a long silence. “, the forest is alive with its own stories, and not all of them are meant for us to uncover.”

Chukwu felt a shiver run down his spine as he glanced toward the dark expanse of trees. He had always believed that knowledge was power, that understanding the world around him was the key to progress. But now, with his grandfather’s words echoing in his mind, he realized that some mysteries were better left untouched.

As they stood at the edge of the forest, the trees casting long, dark shadows over the path, Chukwu felt a mix of excitement and trepidation. He knew the stories of those who had ventured into the Igodo Forest, but the call to explore its depths was almost too strong to resist. He promised himself that he would be careful, that he would honor the warnings of his ancestors, but the allure of the unknown was a powerful force.

“Shall we head back to the village?” Elder Odili suggested, sensing the weight of the moment hanging between them.

Chukwu nodded, though his thoughts were still firmly rooted in the forest. As they began to walk back toward the village, the path seeming less daunting in the daylight, Chukwu couldn’t shake the feeling that his journey was just beginning. He would return to the forest he knew that with certainty. The secrets of Igodo were too important, too tempting to ignore.

they made their way back, the sounds of the village slowly returned, the warmth of the sun replacing the cool shadows of the forest. Villagers were already hard at work, tending to crops and livestock, and children played in the fields, their laughter bright and carefree. But for Chukwu, the world had shifted. He had seen the edge of the unknown, and he was forever changed by it.

the sun climbed higher into the sky, casting a golden glow over the village, Chukwu felt a renewed sense of purpose. The Igodo Forest held many secrets, and he would discover them one step at a time, with caution and respect for the land that shaped his ancestors’ lives.

But he would return. Of that, he was certain.

Chapter 2: Meals on Meals


Chukwu felt a profound sense of peace wash over him. His heart swelled with pride as he watched the villagers young and old celebrating together, their faces alight with joy. The lively atmosphere reminded him of why he had missed this place so much during his time away.

Elder Odili, sensing the happiness radiating from his grandson, leaned in. “You see, Chukwu, this is what we fought to preserve. Our community, our traditions, and our connection to one another. No matter where you go in the world, never forget the roots that brought you here.”

“I won’t, Grandpa,” Chukwu replied, his voice earnest. “This village is a part of me, and I intend to bring what I’ve learned back to help us grow even stronger.”

The elders nodded approvingly, their eyes gleaming with iration. Just then, a group of children raced past, giggling and playing games, their laughter ringing like music through the air. Chukwu watched them, nostalgia washing over him as he ed his own carefree days of childhood spent in the same village square.

“Nne, I hope you saved some of that delicious fish pepper soup for me,” Chukwu called, his voice teasing.

“Of course, my son It’s waiting for you,” she shouted back, her laughter mingling with the chatter around the table.

With plates filled to the brim, the villagers settled down to listen to Chukwu’s stories from abroad. “You won’t believe the kinds of plants I encountered in my travels. There was this one that—” he began, launching into a tale about a rare species he had studied in the tropics.

While still speaking, Elder Odili’s expression shifted to one of seriousness. “But my boy, you must the cautionary tales. The Igodo Forest holds many secrets, some better left undisturbed. I hope your curiosity doesn’t lead you to folly.”

Chukwu nodded, understanding the weight of his grandfather’s words. “I know, Grandpa. You've told me the stories. But I can’t help but wonder what lies within its depths.”

“Curiosity is a double-edged sword,” Elder Okofor said, his voice low and contemplative. “It can lead to great discoveries, but it can also bring danger. The forest is not just a collection of trees; it holds the weight of our history and our fears.”

Chukwu leaned back, absorbing the gravity of this Elder's wisdom. He respected Elder Okafor's insight but couldn’t shake his fascination with the forest. He had spent countless nights during his University days and time abroad wondering about the secrets it held, and now that he was back, the urge to explore its depths felt stronger than ever.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the village in a soft glow, Chukwu decided to shift the mood. “Grandpa, tell us the story of the Igodo Forest!” he urged, excitement bubbling in his voice this is the second time he's hearing the story within a short moment.

The villagers turned their attention to Elder Odili, eager for a tale. With a knowing smile, he leaned forward, clearing his throat. “Very well, but , this is not just a story; it’s a lesson.”

Chukwu listened intently as Elder Odili began to weave the tale of the forest—the legends of lost hunters, glowing mushrooms, and the village priest's warnings. The villagers leaned in closer, captivated by the narrative.

“In the heart of the Igodo Forest, a group of village hunters, led by the curious and adventurous Ikenna, stumbled upon strange glowing mushrooms. They were warned by the priest to stay away, but their curiosity led them to believe these mushrooms would bring them strength,” Elder Odili narrated, his voice low and filled with gravitas.

The villagers gasped collectively, their imaginations ignited by the tale. Chukwu could see the shadows of fear and fascination flickering across their faces.

“As they consumed the mushrooms, they felt a creeping sensation in their minds. Aggression and paranoia took hold, and the hunters turned on each other. The village priest’s warnings proved right. The villagers, once brothers, now became enemies, leaving chaos and destruction in their wake.”

Chukwu felt a shiver run down his spine, the story taking root in his mind. He glanced at the villagers, who exchanged worried glances, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames of the nearby bonfire.

“The elders gathered after the turmoil and declared the area where the mushrooms grew as the ‘Igodo Evil Forest,’ a place to be feared. Legends of its dark power spread, and many who ventured near never returned.”

As Elder Odili concluded the tale, silence enveloped the gathering. Chukwu felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. The stories had always fascinated him, but hearing them now, surrounded by his community, felt different—more real and more immediate.

“, my children,” Elder Odili said, looking around at the young faces illuminated by the firelight, “curiosity can lead to great discoveries, but it can also bring great peril. Heed the warnings of those who came before you.”

Chukwu sat back, lost in thought. The contrast between the vibrant life of the village and the ominous tales of the forest weighed heavily on his mind. He understood the need to respect the forest’s secrets but felt an insatiable desire to uncover them.

Soon the night wore on, the laughter returned, and the villagers resumed their feasting. The sounds of music filled the air, and Chukwu felt a sense of belonging that he hadn’t realized he had missed so much.

Yet, even amidst the joy, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his journey was only just beginning. The Igodo Forest was calling to him, its secrets whispering in the wind, and he knew that somehow, he would answer that call.

After hours of laughter, stories, and food, the villagers began to drift away, leaving Chukwu and Elder Odili to finish their meal. The stars twinkled above, and the village settled into a comfortable quiet, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant call of night birds.

“Tomorrow, I’ll take you to see the forest,” Elder Odili said suddenly, breaking the silence. “But be warned, it is not a place for the faint of heart.”

Chukwu’s heart raced at the thought. “I’m ready, Grandpa. I need to know what lies beyond those trees.”

Elder Odili nodded, a mixture of pride and concern in his eyes. “Very well. But , you carry the weight of our ancestors with you. They’ll guide you, but you must tread carefully.”

While they finished their meal, Chukwu felt a sense of anticipation swell within him. The Igodo Forest awaited, its mysteries beckoning him forward, and he was determined to uncover the truths hidden within its depths, no matter the cost.

Chapter 1: Homecoming

Chukwu hoisted his luggage into the backseat of the cab, the familiar weight of it feeling reassuring as he closed the door. He turned to his grandfather, Elder Odili, who was adjusting his cap and smiling warmly at him.

“Grandpa, I swear, today I plan to eat until my stomach bursts” Chukwu exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m so tired of the food they serve abroad. You wouldn’t believe how bland it was”

Elder Odili chuckled, a sound rich with warmth and wisdom. “Ah, my dear boy, the food here will make you forget all about that. I have something special in mind , a feast fit for a returning champion”

They settled into the cab, the driver turned to them with an inquisitive expression. “Are you a native of Igodo Village?” he asked, glancing at Chukwu through the rearview mirror.

Chukwu nodded, a sense of pride swelling in his chest. “Yes, I am. This is my home.”

“I’ve heard stories about Igodo,” the driver continued, his voice dipping into a conspiratorial tone. “Most of them strange, some odd, especially about your forest. They say it’s cursed.”

Chukwu laughed lightly, shaking his head. “I think today is your lucky day. This is my grandfather, the custodian of wisdom and knowledge. Who better to enlighten you than him?”

Elder Odili smiled, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of storytelling. “If telling this story a hundred times will make you believe, I’ll write it down and carry it around.” He paused, then began, “Let me tell you about the Igodo Forest.”

The cab pulled away from the bustling city, the landscape outside transforming from concrete to green. As they drove, the trees grew denser, their shadows lengthening across the road. Elder Odili cleared his throat, his voice low and mysterious.

“In the heart of the Igodo Forest,” he began, “there once lived a group of village hunters, led by a curious and adventurous young man named Ikenna. These men were brave, known for their skill and camaraderie, but also for their stubbornness…”

Chukwu leaned forward, eager to absorb every word. The driver listened intently, the grip on his steering wheel tightening as Elder Odili wove his tale.

“They stumbled upon a patch of strange, glowing mushrooms,” Elder Odili continued, “and despite the warnings from the village chief’s priest who told them that even the animals avoid this place they believed they could harness the mushrooms’ power. They thought it would make them stronger, better hunters.”

Chukwu felt a shiver of anticipation. He had grown up hearing fragments of this story, but hearing it now from his grandfather made it all the more vivid. “What happened next, Grandpa?”

“Ah, that is the crux of the matter,” Elder Odili said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “As they consumed the mushrooms, a strange sensation crept into their minds, sparking aggression and paranoia. Friends turned on each other, their laughter morphing into chaos. The village priest, who had warned them, was proven right.”

Chukwu imagined the scene, his heart racing as he pictured the hunters losing themselves to madness. “So they lost control?”

“Exactly,” Elder Odili replied, nodding gravely. “They turned against each other, unable to distinguish friend from foe. The village erupted in violence, and in the aftermath, the chief and elders gathered to declare the area where the mushrooms grew the ‘Igodo Evil Forest.’ A place to be avoided and feared.”

The cab continued down the winding road, the forest looming closer with each turn. Chukwu could feel the weight of his grandfather’s words settle in his chest, and a mixture of dread and curiosity coursed through him. “And what of Ikenna and the others? Did they survive?”

Elder Odili looked out the window, his expression pensive. “Some say they vanished into the forest, never to be seen again. Others believe they became part of its shadows, forever trapped by their own folly.”

The driver nodded, glancing back at them with wide eyes. “That’s quite a tale. I’ve always wondered why people avoid that forest.”

“Because it holds many secrets,” Elder Odili replied, turning to Chukwu with a knowing smile. “Some paths are best left unexplored, my boy. Curiosity can be both a gift and a curse.”

As they pulled into the village square, the scent of roasted yam and spices wafted through the air, teasing Chukwu’s senses. He could already imagine the feast waiting for him, the flavors of home calling out to him.

“Today, I will feast like a king!” Chukwu declared, stepping out of the cab. The weight of the forest’s legacy lingered in his mind, but the promise of good food and family warmth overshadowed any lingering unease.

Chukwu stepped out of the cab, his heart racing with excitement as he took in the familiar sights and sounds of Igodo Village. The vibrant colors of the market, the chatter of the townsfolk, and the aroma of freshly cooked meals filled the air. He grinned at his grandfather, Elder Odili, who had come to pick him up after his time abroad.

“Today, I plan to eat until my stomach explodes,” Chukwu declared the third time, glancing at the food stalls that lined the village square. “I’ve missed Mama Nkechi’s pounded yam too much”

Elder Odili chuckled, adjusting his cap as they walked. “Ah, my boy, it’s good to see you back home. Just , too much food can be dangerous Last time I checked, we still have plenty of yam in the granary.”

As they approached a group of elders seated on a wooden bench, Chukwu felt a wave of warmth wash over him. The elders turned to greet them, their faces lighting up with recognition. “Elder Odili! And Chukwu, the pride of Igodo. Welcome back!” Elder Okafor said, rising to embrace them both.

“Thank you, Elder,” Chukwu replied, beaming with pride. “I’ve missed this place more than I can express.”

“Ah, the boy who went to conquer the world of botany! I heard you graduated top of your class. Is it true you’re now a professor?” Elder Akachukwu teased, a twinkle in his eye.

“Not yet, Elder. Just trying to learn as much as I can,” Chukwu laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I do plan to bring some knowledge back home.”

“Knowledge is good, but can it fill your belly?” Elder Okafor said, prompting laughter from the others.

“Let’s hope so!” Chukwu replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Today, I’m just here to eat and celebrate with my village.”

As they exchanged pleasantries, a commotion erupted from the center of the square. Chukwu turned to see a group of villagers gathering around a long table laden with food rice, stews, roasted yam, and all the local delicacies he had missed. It seemed the village had prepared a feast in his honor.

“Look at that!” Elder Odili exclaimed, nudging Chukwu. “Your return has sparked a celebration! They want to welcome you properly.”

Chukwu’s heart swelled with appreciation. “This is too much, Grandpa. I didn’t expect this at all!”

“Of course! You are our pride,” Elder Odili replied, guiding Chukwu toward the table. “Come, let’s show you off to the villagers.”

When they approached the feast, the villagers erupted into cheers and applause. “Chukwu! Chukwu!” they called out, clapping their hands. He felt a rush of warmth, his cheeks flushing with happiness.

Mama Nkechi stepped forward, her arms wide open. “Welcome back, my son! I’ve cooked all your favorites!”

“Thank you, Nne! I can’t wait to eat,” Chukwu exclaimed, hugging her tightly. The familiar scents brought back a flood of memories family gatherings, laughter, and love.

“Sit, sit!” Mama Nkechi urged, gesturing toward a seat at the head of the table. “You deserve the best, my dear. Tell us all about your adventures!”

Chukwu settled in, surrounded by eager faces. As he began to recount tales of his time abroad—the fascinating plants he had studied, the new techniques he had learned—laughter filled the air. The elders leaned in, their eyes wide with interest, while the younger villagers chimed in with questions and jokes.

“Did you discover any plants that can make our bitter leave soup taste better?” Elder Okafor quipped, his laughter ringing through the crowd.

“Only if you promise to share the recipe!” Chukwu shot back, eliciting more laughter. “But I did find some amazing species that could help with our crops here.”

“Ah, Chukwu, always thinking of the village,” Elder Akachukwu said, nodding approvingly. “You must teach us everything you’ve learned.”

The feast continued, and Chukwu felt an overwhelming sense of belonging. He savored every bite, the food reminding him of home in a way that nothing else could. Between mouthfuls, he noticed the joy in the villagers’ eyes and the pride they took in their community. This was where he belonged.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the village, the elders raised their cups. “To Chukwu, our brilliant son!” Elder Odili proclaimed. “May he bring wisdom and prosperity to Igodo!”

“Cheers!” the villagers shouted, lifting their cups high in celebration.

With the evening deepening, the atmosphere grew even more festive. Chukwu felt a deep sense of gratitude for the warmth and love surrounding him. He knew he would soon be drawn to the mysteries of the Igodo Forest, but for now, he was content to bask in the joy of being home, among his people.

"Igodo" (1999) - A Nollywood Classic

Credit to Original Team:

Written by: Don Pedro Obaseki
Directed by: Andy Amenechi
Produced by: Okechukwu Ogunjiofor
Starring: Pete Edochie, Sam Dede, Obiageli Moluwa, and others

Rewritten Synopsis by:
Azyrixworld

A deadly virus ravages the Africa Giant, leaving devastation in its wake. Amidst the chaos, a small group of survivors emerges, driven to find a cure and reclaim their shattered world. But in the midst of death, suffering, and pain, they discover an unexpected source of strength - the power of love, friendship, and the human spirit.

Through tears and triumphs, they find solace in each other, and their bond becomes a beacon of hope in a desolate landscape. Together, they face the unimaginable, and their story becomes a testament to the human heart's capacity for resilience.

With time running out, the survivors' quest becomes a desperate race against the clock. The virus mutates with alarming speed, threatening to consume the last remnants of humanity. Can they find a cure before it's too late, or will the Africa Giant fall to the deadliest virus in history?

In a world ravaged by catastrophic adversity, the survivors' refusal to surrender becomes their greatest strength. United in their quest, they press on, fueled by their determination to reclaim their world.

Will the quest for a cure be the last hope for the Africa Giant, or will it succumb to the virus's deadly grip? The fate of the Africa Giant hangs in the balance...

We must find a way, or risk losing everything and everyone

the battle for survival in "Igodo: Ground Zero,"


© Biggie Makanaki
#Azyrixworld

Dukkha's Embrace

In Dukkha’s shadow, I am bound,
Where every breath makes a hollow sound,
A weight too heavy to confide,
Dukkha’s grasp, my heart’s divide.

Flames of longing scorch my soul,
Yearning for something to make me whole,
But all I touch turns to despair,
In Dukkha’s world, nothing is fair.

In Dukkha’s sea, I drown alone,
Each wave a scream, a breaking moan,
No hand to pull me from this grief,
Dukkha’s depths deny relief.

I scream for mercy, cry for grace,
But life strikes hard, leaves no trace
Of peace, of joy, or love’s warm light,
Just Dukkha’s endless, sleepless night.

I search in darkness for release,
But Dukkha’s weight will never cease,
It lingers, whispers, pulls me near,
My soul consumed by pain and fear.

Sic Transit Gloria Mundi
Whispers time in shadows cold,
As fleeting fame and fortune fold.
Like autumn leaves in silent fall,
Our grandeur bows to time’s final call.

In twilight’s veil, where shadows blend,
I ponder life’s swift, fleeting end.
The crowns we wear, the thrones we own,
Are but brief echoes, soon overthrown.

We chase the wind, we grasp at air,
Seeking permanence that isn’t there.
Our legacies, like sandcastles high,
Crumble beneath time’s relentless sigh.

And when our names fade to memory’s night,
What remains but silence, void of light?
No monuments, no epigraphs to claim,
Just the void, and night’s eternal frame.

Sic transit gloria mundi so es the glory of man,
A fleeting dream, lost in the abyss where none can stand.

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