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Jennylight, Enugu (2025)

17/07/2025

Nobody Knew What She Did With Those Used Condoms—Until This Shocking Night!

Episode 4

And so, at 2am, Pastor Felix crept out of the church barefoot. Head covered. Bible in one hand. An envelope of money in the other.
He walked to the abandoned poultry.
And knocked.
Once. Twice.
Linda opened the door.
She didn’t look surprised.
Didn’t ask questions.
Just sat cross-legged on the ground, eyes glowing in the candlelight.
“You’re early,” she said.
“I came to beg,” he whispered. “I have family. A name. Please… spare me.”
She smiled.
“I won’t take your life, Pastor. But I must take something.”
That’s when he felt it.
A sudden burning in his stomach. A twisting in his chest.
His voice cracked. His knees gave way.
And when he crawled out of that poultry at dawn, shirt torn, sweating and babbling nonsense—everyone knew.
The pastor had gone mad.
He roamed the street barefoot, shouting Bible verses backwards. By noon, he had to be tied with cloth to stop him from swallowing sand.
That was ninety-nine.
One more left.
And it was the biggest catch yet.
The town was breaking.
People now whispered Linda’s name like it was a curse. Market stalls closed early. Men walked with heads down. And those who once laughed now muttered prayers at every junction.
But one name was still missing from the list.
Chief Darlington.
The palm wine merchant. Widely respected. Wealthy. A man with five wives and three houses. He had laughed at the entire scandal, sipping his chilled beer and boasting:
“Any woman wey try me go collect. I no dey fear village drama.”
But deep down, he was shaking.
He had slept with Linda too.
Twice.
And just like the rest, he had left his used protection inside her bin. He remembered even teasing her about how clean her room was.
Now, every time he closed his eyes, he dreamed of that same bin—filled with hands reaching out, grabbing his throat.
He decided to leave town quietly.
Told his wives he was travelling to Asaba for “business.”
Packed two bags. Told his driver to wait by 5am.
But Linda was already ahead.
At 3:23am, Chief Darlington’s compound dog started howling.
At 3:35am, the gate opened on its own.
By 4am, the driver ran into the street shouting “Oga don vanish! Oga don vanish o!”
People rushed there.
His bags were still packed. Slippers still by the door. A hot kettle still whistling on the stove.
But the chief?
Gone.
And outside his gate, written in palm wine on the ground, were the words:
“The hundredth has been sealed.”
That was the final straw.
The elders gathered immediately. The youths held sticks. The women called their prayer leaders. Even the mad pastor started shouting:
“She has opened the gate! Blood moon is coming!”
They needed someone.
Someone untouched by Linda.
Someone pure.
And in the quiet, trembling voice of old Mama Nneka—the oldest woman in Ubah—the name was whispered:
“Her younger sister… Amanda.”
Linda’s forgotten blood.
The one person who knew the girl before the rituals began.
And the only one who might still reach what was left of her.
Not many people in Ubah remembered Amanda.
Quiet. Reserved. She had left the village for school three years ago and never returned—until now.
She arrived that afternoon, wearing a faded denim jacket, her hair in braids, face covered in light dust from the bus ride. But her eyes… they carried something heavy. A kind of sadness that made even the boldest elders pause.
“I heard about Linda,” she said softly. “I came as soon as I could.”
The town gathered around her at Mama Nkechi’s compound. Children sat on steps. Mothers held rosaries. The elders stood with folded arms.
Amanda didn’t flinch.
“I know what she’s doing. But it didn’t start here.”
She told them everything.
About their childhood in Ughelli. How Linda had always been different—fascinated by dark stories, obsessed with mirrors, always sneaking into their grandfather’s shrine. After their parents died, Linda became angry. Lost. She started visiting a woman in the forest—a woman Amanda had never seen, only heard about.
“They called her Ego Ishi… the head taker,” Amanda whispered.
She said Linda once came home with a necklace made of cowries and bone. Amanda threw it in the fire.
Linda didn’t talk to her for two years after that.
Then one day, Linda vanished.
And now she was here.
Killing slowly.
Feeding something.
Amanda stood up.
“Let me find her. Let me talk to her. If there’s any part of my sister left, I’ll find it.”
One elder protested. “That girl is no longer human. She’ll destroy you.”
But Amanda only smiled.
“Then let her try.”
She borrowed a torchlight, tied her laces tight, and asked one question:
“Where’s the old poultry?”
They pointed.
And as she walked alone into the dark, all they could do was pray.
Because what was coming wasn’t just a confrontation.
It was judgment.
Amanda didn’t shake as she approached the old poultry.
The wooden planks creaked. The air smelled like death and candle wax. And behind the broken wall, a faint humming danced with the wind—soft, cold, and bone-deep.
She stepped through the half-open door, flashlight in one hand, a small Bible in her back pocket.
There she was.
Linda.
Seated before a clay altar with 100 sealed ziplock bags placed in a perfect spiral. Candles surrounded her. A red chalk circle covered the floor. Her hair flowed wild, and her eyes… they were no longer fully human.
One shimmered gold. The other, black as charcoal.
Amanda’s breath caught.
“Linda,” she said gently.
No reply.
Just humming.
“It’s me. Amanda. Your sister.”
Linda smiled—but it wasn’t warm. It was sharp, crooked, and tired.
“Why did you come?” she whispered.
“To stop you.”
“You can’t. The sacrifice is complete. I only have to feed them tonight. And then I become what they said I could be—feared. Worshipped. Untouchable.”
Amanda stepped closer. The chalk beneath her feet cracked.
“And then what? You become powerful in a town that hates you? Rule over a graveyard? Is that what you want, Linda?”
Linda’s hands trembled.
“I was invisible before. Always second. Always ignored. I gave them what they wanted—and they gave me trash in return. Now, I hold all their sins in bags. And they fear me.”
Amanda’s eyes welled.
“You don’t need their fear. You need healing.”
Linda’s smile faded.
For a moment, just a second, her face looked like the girl Amanda used to braid hair with on hot afternoons. The girl who once cried when their pet goat died. The sister who used to sing in the rain.
Then the wind rose.
Candles blew wild.
The clay altar cracked down the middle.
A voice deeper than any man’s thundered through the walls:
“Choose. Blood or fire.”
Amanda took one step into the chalk circle.
And hugged her sister.
Tight. Fierce.
No words.
Just silence.
Linda screamed.
The lights exploded. The altar burst. The ziplock bags vanished—blown to ash.
And then… silence again.
When the smoke cleared, only Amanda was left—crouched on the ground, sobbing.
Linda was gone.
But the voice was not.
“One more soul is required.”
And that’s when Amanda realized…
It wasn’t over yet.
The news spread like wildfire:
“Linda is gone.”
Some rejoiced. Others cried. Many stayed silent, unsure what to believe. But one thing was certain—no one saw Linda again after that night.
Amanda returned from the poultry house alone.
Her hair singed. Her clothes torn. Her eyes… heavy. As if she had seen beyond life.
They brought her water. Mama Nkechi fed her rice. The pastor’s wife tried to pray. But Amanda didn’t speak for hours. She just sat under the mango tree behind the church, staring at the soil.
At sundown, the town bell rang once.
Then twice.
Then a third time.
And suddenly, every candle in the church compound blew out.
Amanda looked up.
A shadow stood at the far end of the road. Tall. Faceless. Wrapped in a black cloak that shimmered like oil in the moonlight.
She stood.
Walked calmly across the compound.
And faced it.
“You asked for one more soul,” she said. “Take mine.”
The shadow didn’t move.
But behind Amanda, the elders gathered. The mothers. The boys. Even the men who once betrayed Linda stood in shame.
One by one, they stepped forward.
“Take mine instead,” Emmanuel said.
“Take me,” whispered Kelvin.
Then Pastor Felix—still trembling from madness—crawled forward.
“Let the judgment be mine.”
And then—something strange happened.
The wind stopped.
The earth stilled.
And the shadow…
Laughed.
Not loud.
Not cruel.
Just soft… almost like relief.
Then it vanished.
Gone.
No fire. No smoke.
Just stillness.
Amanda collapsed.
When she woke up three days later, the town was quiet again.
No disappearances. No whispers. Just peace.
The bag? Gone.
The 100 names? Erased.
But a new sign stood at the edge of Ubah town, painted in bold red letters:
“Let those who take what is not theirs… remember what fear tastes like.”
Linda was never seen again.
But on stormy nights, some say they still hear humming near the old poultry.
And Amanda?
She left quietly, never to return.
But in every street corner, every bar, and every women’s meeting… her name remains.
Not as the girl who stopped a curse.
But the one who proved that blood doesn’t always run evil.
Jennylight
https://youtu.be/GjJzDWmJRXE

17/07/2025

She Was Forced to Marry a Man in Chains… But Heaven Had a Secret Plan

Episode 1

“Say yes… or your little brother dies in 7 minutes.”

Those were the first words Nora heard when she woke up with ropes on her hands and blood on her dress.
She wasn’t dreaming.
This was real.

She was sitting on the floor in a dirty hall, and five men were standing in front of her — one holding a ring, one holding a gun, and the other holding her stepmother's phone.

Nora was only 18.
But in that moment… she stopped being a girl.

One of the men kicked a coffin lying near the corner and shouted,
“Wake him up! His bride is ready!”

The coffin opened.
And the man inside wasn’t dead.

He was breathing.
His neck was chained.
His eyes were swollen shut.
And on his chest, someone had carved the words:
“HER HUSBAND.”

Nora started screaming.
She begged.
She cried.
She called her stepmother.

But the woman who raised her only laughed through the phone and said,
“The boy you’re crying for? Your brother? He’s in the boot of my car. So do what they say. Marry the chained man. Or I’ll burn your biological brother alive.”

Nora’s hands were shaking as they untied her. She couldn’t feel her fingers anymore. It was like her body had shut down just to protect her from the nightmare she was standing in.

She looked again at the man in the coffin.

He wasn’t moving now. Just lying there, like some kind of broken, breathing statue.
His shirt was torn.
His wrists bruised.
His lips were dry and cracked like someone who hadn’t tasted water in days.

A priest entered. Or someone pretending to be one. His robe was filthy. His Bible looked fake. He didn’t even open it.

“Do you, Nora, take this man — this prisoner — to be your husband?” he asked casually, like he was ordering lunch.

Nora looked at the men.
One pointed the gun at her head.
Another played a video of her little brother screaming inside a locked car.

She nodded. Slowly. Her lips barely moved.
“Yes.”

They pulled her close and forced her to hold the chained man’s hand. The priest said a few nonsense words. Then a ring was shoved on her finger. A cold one.
Then the priest closed the Bible and said,
“You may now keep silent. For this marriage is not from earth.”

What did that even mean?

Before she could even breathe, someone jabbed a needle into her arm.
Her body dropped.
Everything faded.

—

Nora woke up 14 hours later.

This time, she wasn’t in the dirty hall.
She was lying on a wide bed.
In a mansion.
A real one.

White curtains.
Clean marble floors.
Gold on the ceiling.

She sat up slowly, confused, panicked.
Then the door opened.

A man in black walked in.

Not the chained man.

This one had a scar on his left eye. He looked like a soldier. Cold. Silent.

He placed a tray of food on the bed and said only one sentence:

“He’s awake. And he asked to see you.”

Nora didn’t know what to say.
Who was awake?

She followed the man down a long hallway. At the end, a door was opened.
Note _ this story belongs to jennylight any other page aside from hers stole it.
And there he was.

The chained man.

But this time, he wasn’t in chains.
He was standing.
He was clean.
His wounds were dressed.

And he was... crying.

“You saved me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but deep.

Nora just stood there.

He walked toward her, slowly.

“I know what they told you. I know what they made you do. But I swear to you, Nora... I'm not your punishment. I am your protection.”

Her heart stopped.
“What... what do you mean?”

He looked her dead in the eye and said:

“That woman you call stepmother… killed your real mother. And I saw it.”

Jennylight

For full story kindly click 👉https://youtu.be/2tq9gw1B4zM?si=NofGfzMv03vFmcP5

16/07/2025

Nobody Knew What She Did With Those Used Condoms—Until This Shocking Night!

Episode 3
One man, Mr. Nnamdi—the local chemist and former soldier—decided he’d had enough. Known for his loud mouth and iron temper, he grabbed a bottle of kerosene and marched to the community hall with fire in his eyes.
“You people are all fools!” he shouted at the elders. “You’re watching a girl destroy our town! Burn that nonsense and let her spirit follow it!”
The youth guarding the hall tried to stop him, but Nnamdi pushed past them. He poured kerosene over the black bag and everything inside it—the labeled condoms, the clay bowl, even Linda’s mysterious white wrapper that had been found outside the stream.
Then he lit the match.
Flames burst.
The plastic melted. Smoke curled.
People gasped.
But just as the fire grew higher, a scream echoed from inside the hall.
Not from Nnamdi.
From the bag.
A sharp, twisted cry—inhuman and terrifying—rose out of the burning pile like something trapped in the fire was trying to escape. The elders ran. The youths dropped their cutlasses. Even Nnamdi staggered back, clutching his chest.
The fire died instantly.
Like someone slapped it out of the air.
And when they looked back at the bag, it was gone.
No ashes. No smoke. No trace.
Just the floor, clean… and cold.
Nnamdi collapsed on the spot.
He didn’t die. But his tongue twisted sideways. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t swallow. Couldn’t even blink properly.
The town rushed him to the herbalist, but even the old man said:
“This is not sickness. This is punishment.”
Later that night, someone wrote in chalk on the community hall wall:
“The next one will not faint. He will vanish like the last.”
Nobody knew who wrote it.
But everybody knew whose hand it was.
The next few days felt like funeral air.
The laughter in Ubah town died.
The beer parlour stayed closed. The church had prayer vigils every night. Mothers wouldn’t let their sons go out after 6pm. And men? They started running from any woman that smiled too long.
But Linda was still gone.
Some said she had disappeared into the forest. Others believed she’d returned to wherever she came from. But what most people didn’t know was—Linda hadn’t gone far.
She was watching.
From the abandoned poultry, hidden deep behind the stream, she stayed silent. Speaking only when necessary. Chanting softly every midnight.
Because Linda wasn’t doing this for herself anymore.
She was feeding someone.
His name wasn’t one people could pronounce. But he came to her in a dream—tall, faceless, with a voice like wet thunder.
He had promised her power.
Money. Control. Fear.
But the price was 100 evidences of manhood—used, collected, sealed, and sacrificed. And she was close. Very close. She had 97.
Only three more.
But there was a rule: the last three must be high-value men. Men with respect. Men with power. Men whose fall would shake the land.
And so, her eyes turned toward three targets:
Chief Darlington — the rich palm wine merchant

Pastor Felix — the married evangelist who secretly visited her once

Honourable Ifeanyi — the town’s only politician and current councillor

Three men.
Three final steps.
Once collected, the power would be complete.
And Linda?
She would no longer need to hide.
She would become what the voice in the dream promised her—a gatekeeper between this world and the next. A woman above shame, death, or law.
Back in town, the elders debated calling the police. But before they could act, another message appeared—this time nailed to the church door:
“Three left. The harvest ends on the blood moon. Choose whether to confess… or disappear.”
Honourable Ifeanyi sat in his compound like a man untouched.
While the rest of the town whispered, prayed, and panicked, he puffed his cigar and adjusted his gold wristwatch.
“That small girl can’t touch me,” he told his driver. “I’ve survived bigger storms.”
He was the kind of man who believed nothing could shake him—not juju, not scandal, not even God’s own thunder. After all, he’d bought elections, silenced opponents, and covered up affairs before. What was one village girl compared to that?
But what Honourable Ifeanyi didn’t know was this: he wasn’t dealing with a human storm.
Linda was already watching him.
In fact, she had been watching him long before the scandal broke—long before Kola vanished, long before the community hall fire.
He was target number ninety-eight.
And she wanted him broken.
That evening, Honourable received a call from an unknown number. The voice on the other end was female. Soft. Familiar.
“Come to the empty house behind the primary school. Alone. One last time.”
His hand shook.
Because he did recognize the voice.
It was Linda. The girl he had once met at a hotel in Owerri under a different name. She wasn’t just a stranger—she had history with him. Secrets.
Instead of fear, he felt rage.
“This girl wants to blackmail me,” he hissed. “She picked the wrong man.”
He called two of his boys—street guys he used for “dirty work.” Told them to follow behind and wait outside the compound. His plan was simple: confront her, collect any evidence, then “disappear” her if necessary.
By 9pm, he arrived.
The house was dead quiet. A single candle flickered inside.
He stepped in.
And the door slammed shut behind him.
The air turned heavy.
His guards outside suddenly forgot why they were there. One began laughing uncontrollably. The other stripped off his shirt and lay flat on the ground, whispering “She’s here… she’s here…” over and over.
Inside, Honourable Ifeanyi saw her.
Linda.
Standing before a small altar, dressed in white. Calm. Smiling.
She said only five words:
“I already collected from you.”
Then the candle blew out.
And that was the last time anyone saw Honourable Ifeanyi.
In the morning, his car was still parked. His phone still in the seat. But the man was gone.
Ninety-eight.
Two more to go.
By now, nobody trusted anyone in Ubah town.
Wives were locking up their husbands at night. Market women were refusing to greet men. And the few remaining bachelors were either sleeping inside church halls or hiding in their mothers’ parlours.
But the most terrified of all?
Pastor Felix.
He was number ninety-nine.
And he knew it.
Because two months ago, before any of this madness began, he had gone to Linda’s room during a “revival break.” He told himself it was counselling. That she needed deliverance. That she was “spiritually troubled.”
But the truth was darker.
Linda had been the one to call him “Daddy in the Lord,” but she had looked him in the eye and said, “Even anointed oil can drip where it shouldn’t.”
And it did.
Now, Pastor Felix was fasting aggressively. He locked himself inside the church with his assistant and prayed for twelve hours straight.
But each time he closed his eyes, he saw the same thing:
Linda.
Wearing white.
Holding a bottle filled with dark liquid… and a ziplock bag with his name on it.
He tried calling the state pastor for help. Tried calling the deliverance department. But no one took him seriously.
They all said the same thing:
“You’re on your own, sir.”

Jennylight
For full story kindly click 👉https://youtu.be/GjJzDWmJRXE

15/07/2025

Nobody Knew What She Did With Those Used Condoms—Until This Shocking Night!

Episode 2

By the next morning, everything had changed—but no one said a word yet.
Emmanuel didn’t go to his workshop. Ose was too shaken to start his bike. Kelvin sat at the front of his POS stall, staring into space like he saw his own obituary.
They had all seen the same thing—and their names were there.
Written clearly in red marker on small transparent bags. Dated. Tagged. Recorded like evidence.
But what did she need them for?
What kind of woman collects used condoms like trophies?
And why perform rituals at an abandoned well?
Kelvin couldn’t hold it anymore. He grabbed his phone and called his cousin, who used to live in Osogbo. That cousin, Jide, had once dated a girl who nearly did the same thing—except hers was for love rituals. Jide lost his mind for three months.
After listening, Jide’s voice on the phone dropped cold.
“Run. If her juju priest is legit, she’s either binding destinies or trading you people for power. A hundred men means big sacrifice.”
Kelvin froze.
One hundred?
He remembered what he saw in Linda’s bag. There were too many packets to count. Maybe fifty? Maybe more?
He rushed out, looking for Emmanuel.
But Emmanuel was already waiting—outside his gate. Sweat on his forehead, lips dry, eyes red.
“Bro. My name dey top of the list. She circled it.”
Everything changed from that moment.
They didn’t just feel violated—they felt owned.
It wasn’t just a scandal. It was spiritual warfare.
And something told them… they were already late.
By afternoon, the rumours had started to crawl—slow and sticky like spilled honey.
A teenage girl at the salon claimed she heard someone say Linda was doing something “unclean” behind her room. A dry cleaner swore he saw three grown men running out of the bush path like they’d seen a ghost. But the real drama started at Mama Blessing’s food joint.
That’s where Ubah town’s gossip headquarters lived.
And that’s where Chibuzo—the town’s softest-spoken civil servant—did something no one expected.
He fainted.
Right there between a plate of egusi and a bottle of Fanta, Chibuzo stood up, started muttering “It’s me… She got me too…” and collapsed like a dropped sack of rice.
Panic scattered like pepper in the wind.
Mama Blessing screamed. Plates flew. Someone poured water on his face. When Chibuzo finally opened his eyes, the first thing he whispered was:
“I gave her four rounds… and I used rubber every time… She asked me to keep them… She said she liked being clean…”
Silence fell.
Not even the flies moved.
People looked at one another. It was no longer just gist. It was real.
And if a quiet man like Chibuzo—church-going, neat, reserved—was involved, then who else?
That’s when Madam Ronke, the outspoken hairdresser, stood up and hissed.
“I been dey talk since! That girl no dey sweep compound! No dey greet anybody! Too fine for her own good! Now see!”
Within the hour, someone called for a community meeting.
Men started sweating in their shirts. Wives started watching their husbands closely. Some even started searching their homes for hidden bags.
And somewhere in her quiet room, Linda sat on her bed, calmly painting her nails blood red… as if nothing was happening.
As if she already knew what was coming.
By evening, the town square was already full. Not because of any announcement, but because of one single word that spread like wild fire from compound to compound:
Linda.
Some said she was a witch. Others swore she was just a “runs girl” with madness in her blood. But one thing united everyone—they wanted to know what was in that bag.
Emmanuel and Kelvin had it.
They brought it in slowly—like they were carrying a bomb. The black waterproof bag, tied at the top, looked ordinary… until they opened it.
Gasps filled the air.
Inside were nearly seventy small transparent packets. Each one carefully sealed. Each one with a name. A date. Some with phone numbers. Others with shameful nicknames like “Mr. Three Minutes” or “Big Chest Broda.”
One of the elders stepped forward.
“What is this?” he asked.
But before anyone could answer, Linda herself appeared.
She didn’t run.
She didn’t cry.
She walked into the square with the calmness of a cat who knows it’s not the one being hunted.
She looked around. Her red scarf tied perfectly, her slippers clean, her voice soft when she spoke.
“You people have entered what you don’t understand.”
Boom.
That sentence dropped like thunder.
Women started shouting. Men stepped back. One man—the tailor—grabbed his heart like it would jump out.
“Explain yourself!” the elder barked.
Linda took a breath, then reached into her own bag and pulled out a small clay bowl. Inside it was ash, red sand, and something that looked like melted wax.
“I don’t need to explain anything,” she said.
“But if I don’t return these items by the full moon, all the men in this town whose names are in that bag… will start to disappear, one by one.”
Screams followed. People ran. One man tried to slap her but missed—his hand froze mid-air like something held it back.
And Linda?
She smiled.
“You think I’m the problem? Wait till you meet the one I’ve been feeding.”
Nobody slept that night.
Not even the town drunk.
Every creak in the wood, every goat bleating in the distance, made hearts race. The women clung to their husbands. The men turned off their phones. And the bag—Linda’s bag—was locked inside the community hall, guarded by two young men with shaky hands and cutlasses.
But by morning, one man didn’t show up.
Kola the bike man.
He had joked the loudest when Linda made her threat. He even spat on the ground and said, “Let her try me. Nonsense girl.”
Now, he was gone.
Not just missing. Gone.
His keke was still parked outside his compound. His phone was still charging in his room. His slippers—muddy from the previous night—were still by the door.
But no Kola.
His mother screamed until she fainted. His girlfriend ran to the police post, but the officer just rubbed his eyes and said, “Make we wait till evening. He fit go bush.”
By 5pm, they called a town meeting. Again.
This time, there was no noise. Just silence… and Linda’s absence.
She was nowhere to be found.
Some said they saw her walking toward the stream. Others swore they heard her humming outside the church fence around 2am.
But no one had the courage to follow her.
Not after what she said.
Not after Kola disappeared.
The elders now panicked.
“What kind of spirit are we dealing with?” one asked, beads of sweat running down his grey hair.
“And how many men did she collect from?”
Emmanuel stepped forward, face pale. “I saw at least seventy packets. She’s looking for a hundred.”
Dead silence.
The entire town turned cold.
Because it meant she wasn’t done.
Linda was still counting.
And no one knew who was next.
Kola’s disappearance shook the town, but it was the silence afterward that truly unsettled everyone.
No word. No ransom. No body. Just… nothing.
And that’s when fear started turning into madness.

Jennylight
For full story kindly click 👉https://youtu.be/GjJzDWmJRXE

14/07/2025

Nobody Knew What She Did With Those Used Condøms—Until This Shocking Night!

Episode 1

No one knew where she came from. One day, the dusty sunlit road of Ubah town was clear, and the next, a slender, sharp-eyed woman strolled in dragging a black box and wearing the kind of red lipstick that didn’t belong in a place like this.
They called her Linda. She didn’t talk much, but she smiled often—too often. That kind of smile that made men follow her with their eyes and made their wives whisper prayers. She rented a small room beside Madam Nkechi’s tailoring shop, the same room that had been locked for years after the last tenant went mad.
Nobody asked questions. In a town like Ubah, you mind your business unless the matter finds you. And somehow, Linda found everyone—especially the men. The keke drivers. The welders. Even Samson the church drummer. It started subtly: a wave here, a soft greeting there. Then late-night shadows were seen creeping toward her back window, night after night.
Emmanuel was one of them.
A mechanic with too much strength and too little sense, he thought he was the smartest. He thought Linda liked him. She let him believe it. He would fix her faulty fan, help carry her water, and in return, she would let him lie on her bed—after the door was bolted and the curtain pulled.
But something was off.
One evening, Emmanuel went looking for his old leather bag. Not the one he carried to work, the other one—his secret stash bag where he kept small cash, chewing gum, and used condoms he didn’t want his younger brother to find. Odd? Yes. But in his words: “You no fit trust house people with anything again.”
Only this time, the cash was there. The chewing gum was still there. But the condoms… gone.
He checked again. Maybe he had thrown them out. Maybe a rat dragged them away. But no. The bag was clean. Too clean. Like someone had reached in carefully and only taken what they came for.
He didn’t say anything.
At least, not that day.
But a seed had been planted—one that would soon expose something darker than anything Ubah town had ever seen.
The next morning, Emmanuel couldn’t sit still.
He poured engine oil into a carburetor and missed. He greeted Mama Ifeoma twice like he forgot the first one. When his apprentice Uche asked if he should test the battery, Emmanuel flared.
“Go test ya sense first before battery!” he snapped.
But inside, the guy dey reason things. Who enter my room? Na only me dey lock that door. Even if say I forget am open, wetin person wan carry used condom do?
His boys—Tunde the electrician, Ose the okada rider, and Kelvin from the POS stand—all dey around when he finally vex talk the matter.
“Guy, I no wan lie give una—something don miss from my bag.”
They looked up.
“Money?” Tunde asked.
“Condom.”
Silence.
Then Ose burst laugh like man wey jam pikin joke.
“Used or unused?”
“Used.”
Laughter stop.
Emmanuel’s face was straight. “Dem carry all. Even the one I wrap inside black nylon. But my 5K still dey the bag.”
That’s when Kelvin scratched his head. “Wait o… That’s not strange. Me wey dey always throw mine under my bed, I just noticed say the last three vanish. I think na rat.”
“Which rat dey use rubber dey waka?” Emmanuel said.
The boys looked at one another. Something dey off.
Three of them realized the same thing—dem all don “visit” Linda recently. Omo, tension rise like generator wey dem just start.
“Una no go believe,” Ose said low. “Last week, I see Linda for evening. She dey carry small bucket go backside near the old poultry. I think say na to bath. But the way she dey look around before she waka enter bush path ehn…”
The air went cold.
Just then, small girl Gift—the one wey dey sell puff puff—run pass them shout, “Linda don go stream again this morning o! This time she carry big black bag!”
Without talking, the men exchanged looks. Ose dropped his screwdriver.
“Make we follow her.”
They didn’t know what they would see.
But deep down, each man had a funny feeling—Linda no be ordinary girl.
And whatever she dey collect… she dey keep am for something big.
The boys didn’t waste time.
By the time Gift’s voice faded down the dusty street, Emmanuel, Kelvin, and Ose had already grabbed their slippers and headed out. No planning. No forming. Just raw suspicion driving their feet.
They followed at a distance, careful not to be noticed. Linda had a black shoulder bag on one arm and a white scarf tied tightly around her waist. She wasn’t walking fast, but there was purpose in her steps—as if she was late for something no one else was supposed to know about.
She turned into the bush path behind Mama Nkechi’s tailoring shop—the same path people in the town had long forgotten even existed.
“This girl dey go where?” Kelvin whispered, already regretting his steps.
They ducked behind a pile of wood. Linda paused, looking left, then right, before bending beside an abandoned well overgrown with w**d and wild flowers.
Then they saw it.
She untied her bag, brought out a waterproof nylon, and began pulling out items. One by one.
Small transparent ziplock bags.
Dozens of them.
Each one had something inside. The boys squinted.
It was condoms.
Used ones.
Sealed carefully. Marked with names. Some with nicknames. Some with full names and even phone numbers.
Ose’s hand went to his mouth. “Oh my God,” he whispered. “She dey label them?”
Before anyone could react, Linda poured the whole nylon into a large plastic container, sealed it, and whispered something into the air.
Then she knelt… and began to speak in a language none of them understood.
That’s when the wind rose.
A sudden gust blew from nowhere, whistling through the bush like a warning.
Emmanuel’s breath caught in his throat. He had seen enough.
They didn’t wait to see what came next. The boys turned and ran—silently, carefully—back the way they came.
Back to town.
But one thing was clear.
This wasn’t just about stolen condoms.
Linda was doing something.
And if the names on those packets were anything to go by, half the men in Ubah were in serious danger.

Jennylight
For full story kindly click 👉https://youtu.be/GjJzDWmJRXE

Jennylight

17/07/2025

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