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The Lift Between Realms

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 Chapter One – New Beginnings, Old Buildings Dem say make person no rush happiness, but how you go hold yourself when life finally balance? Na so me and Paul carry our load enter the new flat for Ajani Heights. The building na five-storey, old but still stand well — concrete and red paint wey don begin fade like old blood. The kind house wey go hide secret, but still look like paradise when suffer don hold your neck for long. We don dey together for three years. Paul na the kind man wey sabi reason — steady hand, calm voice, fine black skin, strong jaw like person wey dem carve with care. Paul dey work with one beverage factory  Me, Onyinye, I dey learn fashion design. My own journey still dey start; my sewing machine na second-hand, my client list short like Monday morning prayer. House hunt frustrate us. Two months we search like mad people, from Facebook agent to street boys with fake keys. Every flat either too small, too cost, or too cursed-looking. We nearly give up unti...
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The Seniorman Chronicles

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  The Seniorman Chronicles Chapter 1: Ghost Protocol E dey always quiet before wahala start. For men like Baturey, silence no be peace—na warning sign say something heavy dey brew underground. Na why him dey love early morning hours when Lagos still dey reset, but power players don already log into their backend systems for coded warfare. Seniorman no dey do loud moves. Him own na silent system. You no go hear am for news, but if billions move through closed-door deal anywhere for Naija, he go smell am. No be say he dey among the big boys directly, but information dey find am like magnet attract iron. From First Bank board meetings to Shell company formations, from leaked government contracts to NDAs wey no suppose see daylight—data dey bow for Baturey presence. Still, he dey lock up tight. No comment. No unnecessary moves. Until e make perfect sense. 4:47 AM, Victoria Island Safe House The blue glow from the custom triple-monitor setup shine small for him private office. No...
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Blood and Blessing

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📖 Blood and Blessing By Emeka Kross Chapter 1: Di Man Wey Come With Coffin “No be all coffin mean death. Some dey carry legacy wey no fit die.” Ajangbadi sun no get mercy that afternoon. The heat choke like unforgiveness. Even breeze no get strength. Street quiet like graveyard, but e no be peace wey dey hold people mouth — na expectation. Something dey come. No, somebody dey come. Children stop ball. Women wey dey gossip for roadside suddenly hold wrapper tight. Agberos, normally noisy like generator, dey silent like dem see spirit. Shop owners quietly pull down their half-glass doors. Na the kind silence wey only coffin dey command. Then, the sound of tyre pressing gutter iron break the silence. A black Prado jeep enter the street slowly. E no blow horn. E no rush. E just drive like say e get  license from ancestors. Two men in black native come down. Dem no talk. Dem no smile. One of them open the boot, and slowly like ritual dem bring out a coffin. Yes. Real coffin. Polished ...
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