Episode 6 and 7 combine
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Episode 6: All the Mirrors Lie

Vanessa spun around—
Nothing.

No tall, faceless figure. No whisper of breath. Just the stillness of the Hollow Inn, heavy and waiting.

But the mirror—

She turned back. The surface was rippling, like a stone had been dropped into silver water. Her reflection stared out, pale, frozen.

And then—it smiled.

Not a twitch of her own lips. The grin in the glass belonged to something else, something inside her shape. A mouth stretched too wide, too sharp.

Vanessa recoiled, her hand knocking a candle to the floor. The mirror cracked with a high, thin shriek—like something screaming from inside the glass.

Then silence.

The reflection was gone.

Only her own pale, breathless face remained, staring back in horror.

Keller was beside her now, grabbing her by the wrist. “You saw it, didn’t you? You saw what it’s becoming.”

“What it is?” Vanessa gasped.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, the innkeeper was already pulling white sheets from a cabinet, draping every surface. The mirror. The window. A polished silver tray.

“No reflections,” she murmured. “Not when the Hollow Man has your mark. That’s how he finds you. Through glass. Through water. Through any eye that looks back.”

Vanessa’s hand went to her shoulder again, the burned-in symbol still raw and aching beneath her shirt.

“What happens when he finds me?” she asked.

Keller gave her a hollow look. “He makes you wish you’d never been born.”

Outside, something scraped slowly along the window. Three long, deliberate strokes.

Vanessa froze. The sound was unmistakable—like fingernails made of stone dragging across glass.

She looked to the innkeeper.

“He doesn’t come like other monsters,” the old woman said, voice nearly breaking. “You don’t see him until you feel him. And by then, it’s too late.”


---

Episode 7: The Children Are Still Here

They didn’t sleep that night. None of them.

The smoke from the herbs choked the air. The innkeeper sat in the corner, muttering old words—protection, perhaps, or warnings from another time.

Vanessa kept staring at the mirror, now covered in a yellowed sheet. But she could still feel it. Watching her. Breathing in every ounce of her fear.

At dawn, she decided. She would leave. Whatever answers the town had, they weren’t worth her soul.

But the town had other plans.

When she stepped outside, suitcase in hand, the world had changed.

The road that led to Black Hollow was gone. Not washed out. Not blocked. Gone.

The trees grew thicker where the road once stretched, like the forest had swallowed it whole.

Vanessa dropped the suitcase and ran—past the inn, past the square, past the silent post office.

And then she saw them.

Children.

Standing in the middle of the road.

Ten, maybe twelve of them. Silent. Unmoving.

Their eyes were all black. Not just the pupils—everything. As if their souls had been scooped out and replaced with ink.

One little girl stepped forward. Blonde curls. A blue ribbon. Dress torn at the hem.

She raised a finger. Pointed straight at Vanessa.

Then she spoke.

“He’s coming through you this time.”

Vanessa stumbled back. “What? What do you mean?”

The girl’s eyes rolled back into her head. Blood trickled from her nose.

“HE’S. ALREADY. INSIDE.”

The forest screamed.

Birds took flight, but no sound followed. No wings flapping. No air moving.

Just that scream—deep, guttural, and inhuman—rising from the roots of the town itself.

Keller appeared beside her, panting. “You shouldn’t have come outside. Not when the veil is thin. You’ve let it see too much.”

Vanessa turned to him, trembling. “I just wanted the truth. I wanted to understand.”

Keller’s face twisted. “Understanding is the doorway. Curiosity is the key.”

Behind them, every window in Black Hollow shattered at once.

And from every broken shard…

he stepped through.

WOMB ON TRIAL

EPISODE 2

I could barely sleep that night. My mind replayed the meeting over and over like a nightmare on repeat. The looks on their faces, the venom in their voices—bãrren women, other options.

Emeka lay beside me, his back turned, his breathing steady. How could he sleep so peacefully after what happened today? I turned to him, staring at his motionless form in the dim light of our bedroom.

"Emeka," I whispered.

He didn't respond.

I placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. "Emeka, are you awake?"

A sigh escaped his lips before he turned slightly. "What is it, Nkechi?" His voice was tired, irritated.

"What happened today… why didn't you defend me?" My voice cracked, but I fought to keep my emotions in check.

His silence was deafening.

"Emeka," I pushed further, my pulse quickening. "Do you agree with them?"

He sat up abruptly, running a hand over his face. "Nkechi, this is how things are done in my family. You knew this."

My breath caught. "Knew what? That my womb would be a topic for discussion? That my worth would be measured by a male child I haven’t even had yet?"

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You're overreacting."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Overreacting? Your mother practically told me that if I don’t give birth to a boy, I have no place here!"

He didn’t deny it. He just lay back down, turning his back to me again.

The lump in my throat burned. I wanted to scream, to shake him, to make him understand the weight of what was happening. But I did nothing. I just lay there, eyes wide open, feeling more alone than I had ever felt in my life.

Then, just as sleep threatened to pull me under, I heard something.

Emeka's voice.

It was faint, almost a whisper.

I turned slightly, realizing he was on the phone.

"Yes, Mama," he murmured. "I understand… I'm on your side. But I can’t rush her… No, no, she won’t suspect anything. She thinks I’m neutral."

The room began to spin. My heart pounded so loudly I feared he would hear it.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady my breathing.

I was married to a man who was pretending to be my ally while plotting against me with his family.

My hands clenched into fists beneath the covers.

I had to get out of here. But first, I needed to know exactly what they were planning.

TO BE CONTINUED.... ✍️✍️✍️✍️

#catalystboost #Storytelling #virals #story #storytime

Your account balance can't even buy a 🔪 but you are planning to cut people off🙄,
Abeg Focus on building yourself
Gatter enough money to buy Sharp 🔪🔪 first 🙄🙄

Because Nah person wey get money the cut people off🙄🙄🙄

Good morning babies 💋🥰

WOMB ON TRIAL

EPISODE 1:

I think I made a mistake choosing Emeka. Or maybe the mistake was marrying into this family. If only I had seen the signs earlier… if only I had listened to my instincts. But love has a way of blinding you, making you believe that all will be well.

I should have known something was wrong when my mother-in-law smiled too much at our wedding. That was not the smile of a mother welcoming a daughter—it was the smile of a queen who had just acquired a servant.

Now, here I sit in the middle of a family meeting, feeling like a criminal on trial. I glance at Emeka, silently begging him to say something, anything. But he stares at the floor like a child being scolded.

“Nkechi,” my mother-in-law’s voice is sharp, dragging my attention back to her. “It has been two years, yet we see no sign of a child. What exactly is the problem?”

I swallow hard. I had heard the rumors—how women in this family are expected to bear a son within the first two years of marriage. But I never imagined they would actually summon me like this, like a disobedient child.

“I—I believe God’s time is the best,” I stammer.

My sisters-in-law scoff. One of them, Ifeoma, leans forward. “That’s what barren women say.”

A cold chill runs through my spine. Barren? The word stings like acid. I look at Emeka again, hoping, praying for him to say something. But he remains silent. His mother smirks, as if enjoying my humiliation.

“Listen carefully, Nkechi,” she continues. “In this family, a woman secures her place by giving birth to a male child. If you cannot do that, then we must consider… other options.”

A suffocating silence fills the room. I feel my heartbeat in my throat. Other options? What does she mean?

“Let’s give her a little more time,” Emeka finally speaks.

For a second, relief washes over me—until I realize his voice lacks conviction. He is not defending me. He is only delaying their judgment.

As I sit there, my mind screams at me. Run, Nkechi. Run while you still can.

But where will I go?

TO BE CONTINUED...✍️✍️✍️✍️

#storytelling #virals #trendingpost #catalystboost #story #storytime

He came to propose to me, and died in my hostel

Jareth came over to my hostel that evening. We ate, laughed, and talked about everything—our future, our plans, the names of our unborn kids. It was perfect.

By nightfall, he yawned and stretched.

"Babe, I’ll be leaving soon. I just need to rest a little before heading home. Tomorrow’s a busy day at work."

"Okay,"

I smiled, kissing his forehead.

I let him sleep.

But at 9 PM, when I tried to wake him, he didn’t move.

"Jareth?"

I whispered, shaking him lightly.

Nothing.

"Babes? Ademi, Ayanfe mi?"

I shook him harder.

"Jareth, wake up!"

Still nothing.

I pushed, slapped, screamed—no response. His body was warm, but he wasn’t breathing.

Then, the real horror set in.

Jareth was dead.

My neighbors were gone for the night. It was as if they all planned to go to a party that night.

I was alone.

See me, see Kirikiri.

See court, see jail!

I grabbed his shoulders, shaking him with all my might.

"Jareth, please! Don’t do this to me!"

He didn’t even twitch.

I pounded his chest. I tried mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. I did everything I had ever seen in a medical drama, but he just lay there, lifeless.

Then... his phone rang.

I looked at the screen.

His mum.

I froze.

Then another call—his elder sister. Then another—his younger brother.

As if they knew. They kept calling.

My heart pounded so hard it felt like it would explode.

What would I tell them?

I panicked.

I couldn’t call the police. No hospital would accept him without a proper explanation.

I am finished.

My stomach churned. I ran outside to throw up in the nearby gutter. I started coughing. I was disoriented.

Then, his friends started calling too.

I had to move him.

But how?

His body felt heavier than the weight of my sins.

I dragged him to the car, struggling to lift him inside.

The boot? No. That was too suspicious.

I sat him upright in the passenger seat and buckled him in.

Then, I started the engine.

As I drove out, the security greeted him.

"Bros don jonz. He like life. See as he sleep. Bros we greet oh."

One of them laughed.

If only they knew.

I reached the big ditch. Student usually use it as a dumb site.

I turned off the car and sat there, crying for an hour.

"Jareth, please wake up. Please, baby. We had plans. Our dream house, our children... we were supposed to grow old together."

Nothing. I caught myself talking alone. I was beginning to run mad!

His lifeless body just sat there, unmoving.

I wiped my tears. I had no choice.

I opened the car door, went to his side, and pulled his body toward the ditch.

Then—something small rolled out of his pocket.

A small box.

I bent down and picked it up with trembling hands.

An engagement ring.

I stopped breathing.

He came to propose to me.

That realization shattered my soul.

I staggered back, the air suddenly too thick to inhale.

My entire body shook.

I couldn't do it. I laid on he floor with him, begging him to just wake for some minutes, and propose to me.

No.

I had to go back. I had to tell his family the truth. Whatever happened next, I will be ready.

I wiped my eyes, summoned all my strength, and struggled to lift him back into the car.

I was almost at my hostel gate when police stopped me.

They checked and tried to wake him but he didn't.

"I don't know why fine girl like you will be dating drunkard like this."

I was nearly ruining mad. How the police didn't noticed was beyond my understanding.

When I got home, my door was open.

I knew I locked it.

Something moved inside. I saw a sharp shadow running in my house.

My heart should have skipped a beat. But it didn’t. Because I was already dead inside.

Jareth was gone.

Whoever was inside could kill me if they wanted.

I grabbed a wooden plank near the door and stormed in.

And then—

UPROAR.

"SURPRISE!!!"

My legs buckled.I blinked, confused.

In front of me stood Jareth’s mum, my mum, my brother, his siblings, his friends— even my neighbours

All smiling.

My friends, Helen, Lydia and Johana all opening their wide teeth and holding balloons.

Then— music started playing.

A saxophonist emerged from my room, holding a small banner that read:

"Turn around."

I slowly turned.

And there he was Jareth.

Alive. Smiling. Holding the same ring I had seen by the ditch.

"Babe,"

he grinned.

"You always say nothing scares you. So, I decided to put that to the test. I love you. Please....."

I didn't bother to wait to hear the last sentence before I collapsed.

I woke up to laughter and claps.

Jareth sat beside me, holding my hand.

"So... will you marry me?"

he whispered.

With no strength left to scream or faint again, I nodded.

"Yes."

I will forever love him.

But first...

I need to kill him.

The End.

Even If You Are Not Educated, These 10 Unspoken Rules Can Help You Escape P0verty In Africa.

1. Find a Rich Mentor and Serve Them.
Wealthy people hold secrets that books won’t teach you. If you can get close to one—by working for them, running errands, or just being useful—you’ll learn more than any classroom could ever teach you.

2. Master the Art of Lying Low
Poverty becomes permanent when you live above your means. Many people make money but waste it trying to look rich. Stay low, avoid unnecessary attention, and build in silence.

3. Understand “Under-the-Table” Business
This is how things work in Africa, not everything is advertised, and not all deals are done in daylight. Learn how money truly moves in your industry. The biggest opportunities are usually not on bill boards but through quiet conversations and connections. As a matter of fact, it's the washed up leftovers that are advertised. And usually if you see it published, it's way too late.

4. Control Your Reproductive Choices.
Let’s be real—poverty multiplies when you have more children than you can afford. Many stay broke because they keep expanding their responsibilities without expanding their income. Have kids strategically, not emotionally. And never let your erection determine your direction.

5. Use Alcohol & Entertainment as a Tool, Not a Trap.
The poor use alcohol to escape reality; the rich use it to build networks. If you must drink, drink with people who can change your financial status. Entertainment should be a gateway to connections, not an escape from responsibility.

6. Attach Yourself to Moving Vehicles.
If you see someone or something rising—an individual, a business, a trend—find a way to attach yourself to it. Don’t try to reinvent the wheel. Join someone big and don't compete!

7. Exploit Gaps in the System
Every country has loopholes—things others ignore, services that are in demand, or government programs that people don’t take advantage of. Research what exists in your area and capitalize on it. Those who know how to work the system never stay poor. Remember never to be too politically invested, put your stomach ahead of the nation; everyone does, even those who say they never!

8. Respect & Study How Money Works.
The rich don’t see money the way the poor do. Money is a tool, not a prize. Stop thinking about how to spend it and start thinking about how to multiply it. Make financial literacy your private obsession.

9. Leverage Family & Community Ties Smartly.
There are free benefits you get by leveraging your nativity. By virtue of being a native in your country or village, there are things you naturally get. Take advantage. In Zimbabwe, just by showing your ID card, you get free land anywhere. Well what you do with that land is up to you.

10. Develop a Ruthless Work Ethic
Most people aren’t willing to suffer to escape poverty. Work harder than everyone else. Sleep less if you have to. Outwork your competitors, be reliable, and be known as the person who gets things done. Eventually, that reputation will open doors.

Poverty isn’t just about money—it’s about mindset. The difference between rich and poor is often not intelligence but the willingness to see and do what others ignore. Stay sharp, stay strategic, and make your way out.
#NoExcuses #StreetSmartWealth

If you play smart and selfish here I will unfollow you sharply. So follow me back now!!!

LIVING FAITH CHURCH WORLDWIDE INC COVENANT HOUR OF PRAYER DAILY INTERCESSORY PRAYER GUIDELINE Tuesday, 18th March 2025

Intercession 1: Father, thank You for 4 years of hitch-free importation and delivery of items on the Ark Legacy Project from inception till date – Psa. 118:23
Ps 118:23
23 This is the Lord's doing; it is marvellous in our eyes.

Intercession 2: Father, crush all everlasting mountains and perpetual hills that may be hindering the lives and destinies of our new converts in this Season of Supernatural Turnaround – Hab. 3:6
Hab 3:6
6 He stood, and measured the earth: he beheld, and drove asunder the nations; and the everlasting mountains were scattered, the perpetual hills did bow: his ways are everlasting.

Intercession 3: Father, visit all our Winners Satellite Fellowship centres with grace for supernatural growth, thereby causing each cell to replicate at least once on or before 26th April 2025 – Acts 5:42
Acts 5:42
42 And daily in the temple, and in every house, they ceased not to teach and preach Jesus Christ.

Intercession 4: Father, let there be diverse visitations with the resurrected Christ, resulting in infallible proofs in the lives of all participants at the forthcoming Easter Faith Convention – Acts 1:3
Acts 1:3
3 To whom also he shewed himself alive after his passion by many infallible proofs, being seen of them forty days, and speaking of the things pertaining to the kingdom of God:

Intercession 5: Father, this week and beyond, let the ‘master reaper-angel’ put his sharp sickle into our harvest field, thereby reaping multitudes into the Kingdom and into this church – Rev. 14:14
Rev 14:14
14 And I looked, and behold a white cloud, and upon the cloud one sat like unto the Son of man, having on his head a golden crown, and in his hand a sharp sickle.

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#sharp

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