COMING SOON!

A man who masters patience masters everything else                — Anonymous ____________________________ Ituron Community Alex pushed himself out of his chair. The legs scraped loudly against the concrete floor, the sound echoing through the quiet office. He walked toward the window and stared into the darkness outside. He hated waiting. He hated uncertainty even more. A younger Alex, with little or nothing to lose, would have stormed into the night, reckless and furious, caring little whose son was buried beneath the aftermath of his rage. But his father was gone and the responsibilities had fallen on his shoulders. Somewhere along the way, Alex had learned to become smarter, more patient and tactful.

If you want something done right, do it yourself.           — Charles-Guillaume Étienne _______________________________________ Ituron Community Eric placed Maurice's phone on the desk. The screen lit up briefly in the dim room, casting an eerie glow across the polished wood. "Maurice is dead," he said, his voice rough and breathless. For a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning. His words hung in the air, heavy and forbidden like a taboo. 

Give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with the food that is needful for me.                     —  Agur (Ancient Sage) ________________________________ Ituron Community The heavy door to the temporary office swung inward as Tony, one of Alex’s most trusted lieutenants, strode in. His face mirrored the same fatigue that weighed heavily on Alex. He walked straight toward the desk, holding a tablet loosely at his side. Stopping few steps away from the desk, his eyes swept across the room before settling on Alex. "Sir, we have an update."   Sitting up, Alex leaned both hands against the table, expectant.

When spider webs unite, they can tie up a lion.       — Ethiopian Adage ___________________________________        Ituron community Alex set his phone down on the mahogany desk and leaned back, sinking deeper into the chair with a slow, weary exhale. For the first time since he’d left Tricia at home and traveled down to the village, she hadn’t sounded angry. When his earlier attempts to reach her failed, he’d genuinely assumed she’d blocked him again. Thank goodness David was with her. Leaning forward, lost in thought, Alex knew he would always be grateful that David had agreed to keep an eye on her. Yet, why wasn't he at ease? Why was his head telling him something was amiss? Something about the call bothered him, as Tricia had been far too calm and composed. The way she had apologized for missing his call and thanked him for the birthday gifts simply didn’t sit right. Tricia only sounded that serene when she had a plan brewing or when she was shifti...

It is better to have less thunder in the mouth and more lightning in the hand                 — Apache Proverb  ______________________________ Maitama, Abuja Tricia took a step toward her nightstand and the phone she had switched to Do Not Disturb the moment she got home, then stopped.  Calling Alex to tell him about David's folly suddenly felt like a stupid idea.  Besides, she had single-handedly built her own life from the ground up and handled her own battles—much to Alex's displeasure, of course. But, she wasn't built to be weak, and she certainly wasn't about to cower on a soft rug in her own home just because David had a crush and the audacity to knock on her door well after midnight. When the handle turned a second time, Tricia's frown deepened.  Them no born this guy well! She muttered to herself as she walked straight to the door, unlocked it with a firm click, and pulled it open. David stood in the semi-dark hall, loo...

What comes singing, leaves whistling.           - Finnish Quote ______________________ Maitama, Abuja The kitchen was flooded with bright, clean light. Unlike the dim living room and the darkness beyond the glass doors, every polished surface gleamed beneath the pendant lights, making the room feel almost too bright. The faint aroma of freshly baked bread still hung in the air as if competing with another aroma David couldn't quite place.  Tricia had already opened the refrigerator's massive door. She set a loaf of bread, tomatoes, cheese and lettuce on the marble island before reaching for a knife. David stopped a comfortable distance away, leaning against the opposite counter, his phone in one hand, eyes fixed on the screen. "I hope you don't mind simple food." Tricia's question pulled his attention away from the bright screen. "I'd eat cardboard at this point." That earned him another small smile. "I'll see what I can do. But, I won...

If you want something said, ask a man; if you want something done, ask a woman                 - Margaret Thatcher __ ____________________       Ituron community Without a word, Eric stood up. His heavy boots thudded against the concrete floor as he walked into the dim bedroom. Resting on the wooden nightstand right where Boma had left it the night Maurice passed was the small feature phone, its screen dark and smudged with fingerprints. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Eric wrapped it carefully around his hand before picking up the phone like live ammunition. He pressed a key, illuminating the tiny display, and went straight to the call log.

Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration.             - Thomas Edison _____________________________ Ituron Community Rain pelted the zinc roof of the quiet living room, filling the silence Boma had been drowning in all night.  Ever since the village doctor pronounced Maurice dead, her world had collapsed. Maurice, the tough man she had fallen in love with was felled by a sudden heart attack. He was gone before neighbors could even carry him to the local clinic.  Watching the morticians carry his body away felt like a horrific nightmare. The women who had accompanied her home had all dispersed with promises of checking on her in the morning. She could not blame them, life will not stop because of her grief. But, nothing else mattered anymore. Not even the fragile new life growing inside her. A quiet clearing of a throat snapped her back to reality. Boma blinked, her dull stare sharpening as she remember...

  Gratitude is the heart's memory.                — French proverb ________________ Maitama David's fingers tightened around the stem of the wine glass before he consciously forced them to relax. He lifted it to his lips and took a long sip, welcoming the faint sting as the wine slid down his throat. It’s cool liquid did little to soothe the heat searing through his skin. Tricia took a slow step forward, instinctively drawing her robe tighter around her nightgown. The movement was small and unconscious, but David noticed it all the same. Taking a sip from her own glass, her gaze lingered on him.  "Are you sure you're okay, David? You're trembling."

Reader discretion advised Previously :  SEASON 4 EP.2   A person is a person because of other people.                     – African Proverb: SeSotho / Ubuntu —————— maitama David froze, his heart hammered frantically against his ribs as the sudden surge of adrenaline completely washed away the lingering heat of desire and the priest’s echoing words from his buzzing head. He scrambled to his knees but stayed low, pressing his side against the sofa while his breath came in silent, shallow rasps.  "Who dey there?" he called out. His voice barely carried across the room.

 This post is rated PG. Reader discretion advised The more we are filled with thoughts of lust, the less we find true romantic love.                -Douglas Horton ------------- The routine had become painfully familiar. Whenever thoughts of Tricia consumed him beyond reason, David sought refuge in the same shameful ritual. The only thing he had come to resent was the relentless voice that refused to leave him alone—the calm, unwavering voice of Ada's parish priest. It had started simple enough.  Ada, aware of his internal struggles, had suggested suggested he seek spiritual guidance from her parish priest. The idea amused David at first, mostly because she knew he wasn't a religious man. The last time he had stepped inside a church had been for a funeral, where he had spent the entire service feeling like an outsider. But Ada refused to let the matter rest.

                             Previously:  AFLOAT SEASON 3 E.11 Mastering others is strength, mastering yourself is true power.           - Lao Tzu. -------------------- Maitama, Abuja - How could he possibly tell her that the first day Alex introduced her to him and the rest of their friends had altered the course of his life? One look at Tricia had unsettled him in ways he couldn't explain, and from that day onward, every fantasy, no matter how hard he fought it, bore her face. Initially, he had spent months giving his feelings different names, as though changing the label could somehow change what they were. First it was sisterly affection. Then brotherly concern. Then admiration. Each new label bought him a little more time before he had to confront the truth. Before long, he found himself inventing reasons to stop by Alex's house. Sometimes it was to discuss work. Other time...

  Afloat Season 4 

There is no greater tyranny than that which is perpetrated under the shield of the law and in the name of justice                     - Montesquieu _______________________ Ituron community- Who would have guessed that the mysterious stranger in Maurice's home was his long-lost blood uncle? Why did he decide to come back now? Eric thought as suspicion crept into his mind. Though his head told him Uncle Ambrose had always been a sincere man and should not be doubted, his gut still had reservations—and over the years, he had learned never to ignore it. " I think your long absence made my men assume you were a stranger," Eric explained carefully.   "A stranger? But I am a son of the soil." Ambrose exclaimed with a loud laugh.

At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet.                     - Plato ________________________________ Maitama, Abuja (Alex's Mansion) - David settled into the comfortable leather sofa and took a sip of his drink as his gaze took in the lavishly furnished living room. The cool air seeping in from the wall vents relaxed his frayed nerves. The maid must have turned on the AC the moment they arrived, he guessed. A very diligent woman, David thought as he gulped down his drink and grinned with satisfaction. Glancing at the wall clock, he realized it was ten minutes to midnight. He wondered if Tricia had fallen asleep as his mind slowly replayed the events of the evening. Crazy, but beautiful woman. She should be asleep by now, he thought with a slight frown as he placed the bottle and his cup on the side stool before unbuttoning his shirt halfway. The peaceful, quiet atmosphere pulled on the strings of his private thoughts, a...

Do not look where you fell, but where you slipped                     - African proverb ------------------------ Ituron community - "Uncle Ambrose! I am still surprised. The last time anyone saw you was three or five years ago? This is indeed strange!" Ambrose grunted. They were in Maurice's small sitting room after the brawl at the cottage. Eric had a confused look on his face as he eyed Maurice and his uncle suspiciously. He was leaning against the wall facing Maurice and Ambrose who were seated in the only two available chairs. Ambrose shook his head slowly and met Eric's gaze; "You are correct. I left three years ago. Exactly some days after Maurice was incarcerated for abducting and ruining that girls life." "I was falsely accused!" Maurice interjected, "she willingly followed me to my house and gave herself to me. Yet nobody believed me!" [Don't forget to subscribe to NIB so you can get daily updates of this story and mor...

Passion is energy. Feel the power that comes from focusing on what excites you.                     - Oprah Winfrey _______________________ Maitama, Abuja  The moment the gatemen let them in, Tricia disappeared into the house. She had ignored him on the way back, so he sensed she had probably gone to lock herself up in her room upstairs. He could guess she was secretly plotting her revenge, so there was no way he was letting her out of his sight. David instantly made up his mind to spend the night in Alex's home since he could not afford to pay the bodyguards for twenty-four-hour service. It was not part of the birthday plan, and he had spent almost all the money Alex transferred to him on the failed evening with Tricia. Of course, Alex would definitely refund him when he returned, but his funds were tied up somewhere so he had no extra to spare on bodyguards. Don't forget to subscribe to NIB so you can get daily updates o...

A friend may be waiting behind a stranger’s face.                - Maya Angelou,  Letter to My Daughter ------------------------   Ituron community - The quivering man managed to plead while his teeth chattered as if he was freezing. "Is this the man?" Eric queried Boma "Y—yes. He is our guest. My husband brought him here." She was no longer crying but her voice was hoarse. "Oga! Wetin carry you come our community? What is your business here?" Eric's clear voice boomed as he took steps towards the strange man. [Don't forget to subscribe to NIB so you can get daily updates of this story and more]

When you know what you want, and want it bad enough, you’ll find a way to get it                 - Jim Rohn ____________________________ Ituron community - "He is in there." Boma pointed at the door of a small locally remodeled cottage. A single light bulb was carelessly attached to the wall above the door. It's weak light fought against the pitch darkness of the night which seemed to be edging closer to the mud walls plastered with cement. The men flanked the building. "Are you sure?" Eric's right hand man questioned aggressively while they all glared at the wooden door as if a criminal awaited behind it. "Yes sir! I'm very sure." Boma wiped her running nose with the end of her wrapper. Eric signalled to his men and two of them rushed over and effortlessly broke down the door.  They dove into the house and before long angry and hight pitched voices were heard followed by the noise of struggling.