Who's ready for this one???🔥

Its gonna be bang bang! Welcome, if you're in this page, to the fourth edition of the...

And, in BATCH FOUR, we have the following contestants;

019 Pink

020 Moonlight Artist

021 Star

022 SneakyCougar

023 Aurelius

Are we ready??? Let's go!🔥

019 Pink

Prompt: Everyday, the same thing keeps happening...

Story Entry;

"Everyday the same thing keeps happening. Dad comes home drunk and beats the shit out of mum. Kizito keeps crying. He doesn't really know what's going on but mum's screams makes him sad. I'm sick of all this. I want to run away. But I can't leave Kizi. And Mike too... "

I didn't hear anything she said after that.

Mike.

We got to know each other some months ago. The time I got stranded in the rain at the bus stop. He had driven past me at first but then reversed. The stunning smile he gave me when he called my name in surprise and the way "Anjola" rolled off his tongue sent shivers down my spine.... Or maybe it was just the cold.

I had sat in the passenger's seat, soaking up the entire area. He had told me it was okay. He was such a gentleman.

Pearl had told me about him sometimes when we were gisting. About how hypnotizing his honey brown eyes were, how his laugh gives goosebumps, how he calls her every night, the way he calls her sweet names, his smile... God his smile.

She had introduced us to each other before but I didn't really pay attention to him then. Someone had just pissed me off and I was anything but glad to meat anyone at the time.

But having had a good look at him in the dimly lit car, I understood why Pearl was head over heels for him.

He made small talk throughout the ride. His voice was so pleasant to listen to that I even forgot that I was going to have to show my mother the nonsense 240 I got in jamb.

He dropped me off at my house and bade me goodbye. I hated myself for feeling disappointed for not getting his number. He was my best friend's boyfriend for crying out loud.

But I couldn't get him off my mind. He even appeared in my dreams. Inappropriate dreams.

A few weeks passed and I eventually forgot about him. Until I saw him again at a restaurant. He spotted me before I could hide and gave me that dazzling smile that made me weak in the knees.

He invited me to join him and paid for my meal. I was quiet the whole time and the way he looked at me and smiled had me melting.

We finished up and he sent me home in an Uber. And to my pleasant surprise, he gave me his number to tell him when I got home safely. And of course I did. Maybe I shouldn't have. But I don't regret it.

It started with occasional hi's and hellos then went on to full on gists about our days, and before we knew it we we're making phone calls through the night.

I liked him.

He liked me too but I could tell he felt guilty about it. So did I.... Just a little bit.

Some weeks ago, there was a house party. Pearl and I went and she met up with Mike.

We avoided all contact with each other like we weren't closer than friends. It hurt me but I had to.

Pearl ended up getting wasted. Mike put her in one of the rooms for her to spend the night so it was just the two of us after that.

I didn't know how to act. Being alone with him gave my butterflies. My skin craved his touch. My ears itched for his voice. And my lips hungered for his.

After a few not so secret glances from both of us, he asked if we could talk.
We went to another empty room. He left the door open. He told me that he didn't want to hurt Pearl. That she was already going through a lot. That what we were doing was wrong. He told me he loved me but Pearl needed him.

Each of his words cut deep into my heart. It hurt so bad.

So I kissed him. Maybe it was the alcohol.

He retracted immediately and held me at arms leght. He looked like he was having an Internal battle. A war.

His next action told the outcome.

He pulled me back and kissed me passionately.

That was our first kiss.

We did more than kiss.

I can still remember the way he trailed kisses all over my body. How his fingers skilfully pleasured me. The way he made my archy back as be pounded inside me. The way his said my name.
Words could never describe all I felt that night.

I had woken up to see him staring at me, the sun shining on his chocolate brown skin. He smiled at me when he saw I was awake and kissed me on my forehead. He told me he had been waiting for me to wake up before he left.

That made me happy.

We got dressed and he left first. He told me he'd call me when he got home.

I went out later to check on Pearl after making sure that none of the hickeys were visible. She was still asleep so I woke her up and we went home.

Mike and I were closer than ever. We texted each other first thing in the morning and right before bed. That was until I missed my period.

I stopped replying him messages. I stopped answering his calls. What was I supposed to tell him?

"Anjola!"

I snapped out of my thoughts.

"What!?"

"You weren't listening".

I really wasn't ready for her whining so I lied. "Yes I was. Continue."

But before she could, someone walked into my room.

"Mikee!" Pearl called out, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

He looked surprised to see her there but tried not to show it.

"You told me you would be here remember? I came to see you" he lied with a smile.

And Pearl fell for it. I mean who wouldn't, when he smiled like that.

I tried not to show my discomfort and shrunk into the background.

But he saw me.

He always sees me.

"Oh....So what's up?" Pearl asked him.

"Oh uhm... I really wanted to see you. I missed you. Let's go out."

"Now?"

"What better time?" He grinned.

Pearl giggled and got up. "Babes I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow?"

I nodded.

"Let's go babe," She held out her hand for him to take.

He was reluctant to take it.

"Uhm... Yh, I'll be right with you. I need to use the restroom." He cast me a glance as he was talking.

"Oh okay. Anjie can you show him where it is?" She asked though she was already leaving without getting an answer.

He knew where it was though. He'd been here before when my parents were away.

There was a defending silence after she left.

He stared at me so longingly.

But he shouldn't. Cause he could have me if only he'd break up with her.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" He finally asked.

"I'm pregnant."

I thought that would chase him away but he hugged me.

I cried in his arms.

Then I threw up.

COMMENTARY: Oh damn. Heavy!🔥 Let's see what the Judges have to say!

JUDGES REVIEWS

Judge Acton Bell

You need to work on your execution, narration, punctuation and above all, you need to learn how to channel your creativity. The end of your story was not it. Your story didn't really meet my expectations, you practically just threw dialogues in our faces. But then, I guess you have potential. Try harder.

Judge Karen Kingsbury

I don't know but I saw Chinese, or was it Japanese, at the top of your work. Maybe it's a glitch. Anyway, your work. You used 'meat' instead of 'meet'. As in to meet someone. Shey you know meat is flesh? You have to be careful with Homonyms so as not to make such an embarrassing mistake.

You're seeing this, right? "The way he made my archy back as be pounded inside me". . .this statement, you can see the errors. I won't point them out but this was in your work. When you're editing, edit thoroughly.

Pink, I'm sorry to say but you did not try. You did not execute the theme, your grammar had holes, no wordplay, weak plot... It was just one story about a shitty friend and a shittier boyfriend.

All of them, stupid. The best friend, the boy friend, the cheat of a friend. Stupid.

Judge Maya Angelou

Your story is rather... interesting, but that's it. I was pretty underwhelmed because it was like you took us from Jerusalem and dumped us in Jericho. It had so many plot holes. You also started your piece with the prompt but just left it there at the beginning. You didn't interpret it and that's what this exercise is all about. I feel you have the potential to do better.

Also, ellipsis are three dots (...) only. No more, no less. THREE!

Judge James Hardley Chase

It's the A, B, C, D, 2×1, 100 for me. In case you don't understand, this is exactly what I read. I don't know what it is with starting a beautiful story, and suddenly going off. Because this was something I got hooked on by just the beginning. You talked about abuse and how she couldn't leave. Suddenly she is in a boy's car, they are having sex and she is pregnant. And I didn't even know if that was her friend's boyfriend or hers. Like everything was just all over the place. This was poorly executed. You were just jumping from pillar to post. I also don't even see the connection between the theme and story.

Look this could have been pulled off greatly, I see you are creative, but this isn't it. I am not saying this to break you, I want you to do better, and I believe you can. If you get into the next stage, please make me proud.

Judge Arundhati Roy

So scoring 240 in Jamb is nonsense!? Wow. Your piece is interesting, like I was captivated from the beginning to the end but I must say you did not do justice to the prompt at all. It's a beautiful story but one that has nothing to do with the prompt.

Judge Jk Rowling

Aunty/Uncle? From where to where?

I was actually low-key feeling the beginning. The repetitive cycle of abuse and all. Before I knew it, we were with a boyfriend and we were pregnant? What exactly is the general plot? How does it all connect and how does it reflect the theme in the beginning? Maybe I missed something out, because I'm not quite following.

You're not a bad writer though. Some parts of this work was kinda sweet. But, it still doesn't water down the fact that the entire work wasn't just giving.

Judge Shakespeare

I wast humour this until I wasn't. Then I wast humour 't again, until I wasn't. Quite quaint st'ry, but nay.

I was feeling this until I wasn't. Then I was was feeling it again, until I wasn't. Beautiful story, but no.

Judge Jane Austen

Life is hard enough without betrayals of this sort, man. I like the little spin, although it's not the spin you should have added. You need to know that you must elaborate on whatever it is that keeps happening. You don't just mention the prompt and zoom off into empty space. But I'll blame it on the fact that most, if not all of you, are not flash fiction writers, but novelists. A complete plot in less than a thousand words is strange to you. But it's an alright story.

COMMENTARY: Okay!🔥 Let's move on to the next contestant!🔥

020 Moonlight Artist

Prompt: Everyday, the same thing keeps happening...

Story Entry;

BATH TIME

Everyday, the same thing keeps happening...

Beep! Beep! Beep!

I sit up immediately in fear. I can feel the tears gathering behind my eyes. Bloody clothes and trembling hands, it happened again.

The tears refuse to drop, my body repudiates staying still and the damn alarm clock keeps beeping. I feel overwhelmed, scared even. My eyes scour the trashed room, everything is everywhere; clothes strewn about and nothing is in its rightful place.

This stupid cycle! This horrific repetition of events I have tried so hard to end. I have done absolutely everything possible; locking the doors, chaining myself to the bed, shatter proofing the windows, befriending sleeping pills. Every single thing!

But, it is stronger than me. Whatever it is, is a lot more powerful than I am. Defying all odds and reducing my preventive measures to nought. It always wins.

There is no willpower to face the day but my boss will never take that as an excuse. I have to tidy myself, get to work and wait for the news to know who got attacked this time.

I struggle, washing away the grime and blood that stuck to me like a second skin. Changing my sheets and sanitizing my little apartment to avoid detection.

My journey to work is a boring one but not today, it appears. I do not have to wait for the news this time. The teeming crowd at the kiosk, a stone throw from my apartment, let me know that the kind, old lady owner had been its target.

I can sense my heart break and smash to smithereens at my feet. I am instantly reminded of how filthy of a person I am because of this thing inside me. This thing that is destroying my life as I know it.

She did not deserve that, none of them did.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Kicking off my shoes at the door, I trudge towards my room after a long day at work. Hunger pangs bite me from every corner but I know better than to satiate the pains because that is what it wants.

I eat, I fall asleep, I wake up the next day in bloody apparel – A darned pattern.

The innocent blood gathering on my hands is getting too much for me to handle but I can't get help. No one would believe me. I don't even believe me.

I decide to busy myself with work; sorting, forwarding and responding to emails. Anything to keep me occupied till the witching hour passes. Unfortunately, I finish all my work in a fickle amount of time.

And as if to taunt me, the seconds took minutes to complete and the minutes took hours. I remain crouched inside my padlocked room, rocking steadily back and forth, humming tunes I have never heard of and trying so hard to remain awake.

With trembling hands, I grab the pocket knife beside me. It feels painful at first but by the fourth letter, I start to feel numb. What better way to pass time than carving the alphabets onto my thighs?

Hopefully, at letter T, I would have lost enough blood to pass out and possibly die, bringing its deadly game to a standstill.

But then, I can feel my mindset shifting.

No.  

My conscience is swapping.

One body. Two bodies– Stop!

My body starts twitching and everything around me jeeringly reducing to a blur until–

"Blood bath time!" It giggles.

COMMENTARY: Ouuu chills! Let's hear from the Judges!🔥

JUDGES REVIEWS

Judge Acton Bell

I liked your story. It reminded me of a movie I watched a long time ago. There's room for improvement, though. But you did great!

Judge Karen Kingsbury

I like your work. I don't know why but I do. Your punctuation was on point, and the words you used weren't just basic. You executed the prompt, that's good for you and the ending of your work? Wow. Well, except the giggling part. If it cackled, then ooo.

Judge Maya Angelou

Your story is quite captivating. I like how you managed to capture the world around the character even with the limited word count given you, portraying it impeccably. Also, I'm a fan of simple, yet detailed descriptions and you managed to show that in your work. I also like how you included the idea of the prompt throughout your story. You didn't interpret it literally, but metaphorically and that's the idea of this exercise. Amazing story flow.

Judge Arundhati Roy

Wow! That's the word recurring in my head as I read your piece. I like it because it's so creative and it's obvious that you think outside the box. You were also able to do justice to the prompt even though you didn't mention it literally.

Judge Jk Rowling

When I started the story, I thought it was going to be the usual sob tale about sexual abuse that a lot of writers dabble into without any deep knowledge.

But, you surprised me to be honest. In a good way. You have a wide imagination and I would never have for one picked up that all these while, it was a baby growing in her that was tormenting her like that, making her feel so dirty too. I love how your mind was able to make due with something so out of the box and you nailed it to some extent. I love that! However, I still see a lot of work needing to be done on your writing itself. It's good, but with the kind of imagination you have, you should be able to learn how to play with your words better to create better imagery and show forth a more compelling description, and overall, the gripping story that you have! But that's why you're in Project Pen to learn, grow, and maybe, win!

But you're creative, I'll give you that. Easily, you remind me of CY, a Contestant from Last Year who made it to the Top 10. With this creativity, I easily see you definitely going far and doing just as well as CY did. I can't wait to see more from you, Moonlight Artist!

Judge Shakespeare

Wow. Just wow! I loveth thy creativity. Thou art truly an artist.

Judge Jane Austen

Werey wolf? 😂 Father Lord. Monster stories are supposed to be gritty fun, not whatever this is. Gives me too much of a "Jack and Jill... " feeling. And what was with the "Bath Time" thing? Also, your main character has endured all that, but hasn't tried killing themselves? They don't really feel any guilt, then. Don't help them pretend that they do.

COMMENTARY: Alright, who's next???🔥

021 Star

Prompt: Everyday, the same thing keeps happening...

Story Entry;

Everyday, the same thing keeps happening in the exact same sequence. it's an endless cycle, one that threatens to mess with my sanity, break me into numerous pieces. One that threatens to choke me, leave me breathless. One that scares the living shit out of me, makes my entire body quiver in fear.

Every day since I've been locked up in this dark room I've been living death, every Single second feeling like a goddamned minute. Little by little watching my life crumble, watching everything disappear into thin air before me.

If only I had listened. If only I hadn't left the house that day, I hadn't obeyed my mother. If only...

The doors creaked open again, and my heart automatically started racing, thumbing against my rib cage and threatening to burst open my chest.

I could feel my heart sink to the pit of my stomach, causing it to rumble, the knots in my stomach twisting. It started to hurt, immensely. I could also feel my heart in my throat, threatening to come out of my mouth, sending a feeling of uneasiness through me.

Sweat beads dotted my skin, falling to the sides of the face, causing the wounds on my skin to sting, eliciting low winces from my lips. My breathing was uneven, bouncing off the four walls of the windowless dark room in loud echoes, resonating through the room.

The sounds of his footsteps against the cemented floors caused my heart to flip continuously, burning in my chest like it was set on fire.

"Idara, hello," the coldness in his tone caused me to freeze up, caused all the hairs on my skin to stand at attention.

I couldn't make out his face, couldn't see him, but I knew he was close, too close. I could feel him close by, could feel his presence around me.

I felt his fingers grace my cheeks, causing a low hiss to escape my lips as he traced a finger against a wound that stretched from under my left eye, through to the skin under my left ear. It stung badly, tears welling up in my eyes.

Then, he moved to the back of my head where the blindfold was secured in a tight knot, loosening it and taking off the blindfold, revealing his face that was dimly lit up by the cigarette lighter in his hand, a coy smile dancing on his lips.

I scooted away from him, but could only go two feet away from him before one of my legs was yanked, pulling me to him, my butt sliding against the concrete floors, the friction causing it to burn.

"Pudgbbudrhss!" I tried to scream, but the gag in my mouth only permitted muffled sounds.

"What?" He asked, placing a hand behind his ear as if to say 'I didn't hear clearly, speak louder', sarcasm laced in his tone.

The coldness of the concrete floors seeped into me, settling in the pit of my stomach. The air became hot and heavy, my breathing rasp.

"You really thought you'd get away with it?" He quirked a questioning brow at me, the smile completely wiped off his face, replaced by a deep scowl.

Scared, I shook my head tremendously, unsure of what I was objecting to.

"You really thought you'd turn me in after the numerous warnings I gave you and I'd let it all slide?" He asked, a humorless chuckle eluding his lips. "You're more stupid than I thought," he deadpanned.

"How do you feel?" He asked, the stupid smile returning back to his features. And like he just realized I couldn't give a response to his question, he moved to take of my gag in a not so gentle manner, causing a strangled sob to escape my lips.

"You... you won't get away with it," I spoke, my voice coming out barely audible, almost a whisper.

He laughed, his shoulders quaking heavily, throwing his head back, doubling over. "Really?" He feigned surprise, mockery written on every inch of his features.

"How?" He asked, pointing to my hands tied behind my, and then to my legs tied before me. "Tell me, Idara. How?" He probed and I only scooted further way from him.

"I thought of doing the same thing I did to Audrey to you, how about that!?" He said in between laughs, taking a few steps towards me.

I scooted further away, and he came closer. I scooted and scooted until my back came in contact with the wall, a loud gasp eluding my lips.

"Run na," he mocked, moving closer to me.

"Don't... do-don't come any closer," I threatened.

I felt hot tears trickle down my cheeks as strangled sobs escaped my lips.

He squatted down to my level, grabbing me by my hair and pulling me up with him.

"Pl-please..." I begged, shutting my eyes tightly.

I felt his hand daintily on my waist, the other settling on the wall beside my head. He leaned in slowly until I could feel his hot breath fan the skin of my ear.

"I asked you a question! How about I do the same thing I did to Audrey to you!?" He whisper-screamed into my ear, leaning even closer until our bodies were flushed against each other.

Tears streamed down my cheeks profusely as I sobbed loudly.

I felt dirty, helplessly being touched by the one who sexually assaulted my best friend, leaving her with scars and memories that traumatized her.

I watched Audrey go deeper into her shell as she died slowly everyday. I watched my best friend loose her mind, seep deeper into depression. I watched and watched helplessly, unable to do anything to help her.

"Audrey committed suicide,"

Those three words broke me, shattered me immensely.

I took it upon myself to get her justice. I reached out to her parents and we got a detective, gathered evidence and took the case to court.

But what did I expect? That the son of a renowned politician in the country would easily be convicted just because I managed to gather a few pieces of evidence.

I felt firm hands grip my neck tightly, throwing me across the room. My heading hitting hard against the hard concrete.

Black dots swirled in my vision, my vision blurring out. My head felt heavy, hurting immensely.

Everyday, the same thing keeps happening. I'm trapped in this windowless dark room, tied up, gagged and blindfolded, given only water enough to keep me alive, physical abused and beat up till I fucking pass out and then,I wake up with a gag in my mouth, and a blindfold over my eyes.

Silently hoping that one day my savior would come running to get me out of hell, hoping I'd be rescued from this demon.

Silently hoping that I'd wake up the next morning and realize that this was just a bad dream.

COMMENTARY: Okay damnnnn🔥 Judges what do you think about this one???

JUDGES REVIEWS

Judge Acton Bell

Star, Star, Star. Hm. I've had my eyes on you since the screening. I expected more from you in this stage, but I got less. Sha, your performance was fair. Work on your execution, and make sure you go through your pieces to avoid flimsy errors like typos and minor spacing issues. You can do better.

Judge Karen Kingsbury

The conversation between your characters seemed a bit stilted. You broke his speech into three parts when there was no interruption whatsoever. See here, "Let it all slide," he asked, a homeless chuckle eluding his lips. "You're more stupid than I thought." He deadpanned.

That 'He deadpanned' Why is it there? It looked tacked on. That statement works just fine without it.

E.g

"Come here!" he screamed, running after me. "I'll kill you," he said.

Doesn't it look weird? We know he said it, it was him talking earlier. If you want to show the laughter died down then move to another paragraph and show it.

Lastly, watch out for tautology. Your work seemed to be best friends with it. Overall, the work needs better footing.

Judge Jk Rowling

Not me simping for the Kidnapper, I need help.😪 But all jokes aside, I really enjoyed this. I specifically like how the Kidnapper was written well, in a way that they are able to cause me shivers while reading, through their mannerisms and manner of speech. I like how the feelings of the MC was portrayed, in a way that I could feel I could relate, even if I have never been kidnapped before. The build up in the entire story was great, and I didn't actually skip any lines, I was eagerly following the story up to see where it led. In my opinion, it didn't disappoint. Kudos to this writer!

Judge Maya Angelou

Your story is... okay. It's not exactly fascinating, but it's a pretty good read. You are very familiar with the basics of writing, though you need to work on your descriptions and world building. You have the potential to be better.

Judge Jane Austen

Ouch. I shed tears I didn't have, first because of the main character, then because of the story. The execution doesn't do justice to what would have otherwise been an excellent plot element. There's too much breakage in the arrangement. It slows down the pacing way too much, giving me a lot of time to focus on things I shouldn't be focusing on, such as how your heart was threatening to burst out of your chest, sinking into your stomach and clogging your throat at the same damn time. All three expressions mean three different things, dear writer. You need to be sure of what you're writing before you write it. I'll borrow words from a fellow judge and say, "please learn stuff. Writing stuff."

COMMENTARY: Okay na! 💀You heard them! NEXT UP!🔥

022 Sneaky Cougar

Prompt: Everyday, the same thing keeps happening...

Story Entry;

Everyday, the same thing keeps happening. The same scene replays as if stuck on a broken record—her terrified wails, his enraged shouts and the glint of the silver blade driving in and out of her writhing body. A nightmare frozen in time; and me, unable to escape its clutches, relive the horrible scenes over and over again.

And today is no different. I jolt out of bed, my heart thundering in my chest like a raging bull ready for stampede. My body is enveloped in a film of cold sweat as I struggle to shake off the remnants of the nightmare that clings to my consciousness.

I take in a deep breath and sit upright, but something feels off, or rather, smells off. The air smells different. Panic seizes my every nerve as I begin to register the unmistakable smell that lingers in the room—sharply tannic, the smell of rusted metal.

I sniff the air, and then I see it—a faint trail of crimson smudges on my palms.

In one swift motion, I launch myself out of the bed, tearing off the tangled sheets trailing behind me.

I glance down at my body, realizing with a sickening lurch the reddish brown splatter all over my hoodie. I yank it off my body.

No, not again.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my trembling hands. My mind races, this can't be real. I try to convince myself just the way I did the first time and the second time: it is a prank, a cruel joke, and now someone—maybe Anna—is tormenting me.

I remember, though vaguely, that Anna slept next to me the night before I woke up in this same unsettling condition. But since then, I never saw her again, nor did I hear from her.

My alarm blares from the corner of the room like a strangled bird, and I feel almost smothered by the weight of the realization that its 8:00am, and I'm late for work. There's blood on my body, and I don't know where it came from.

Everything passes in a haze, and I find myself sitting in the bullpen, staring blankly into the void. The occasional flashes of scarlet I see on almost everything, and the awkward glances from my colleagues bring me back to reality.

Their murmurs reach my ears, discussing a new case of murder that captures their attention.

I strain to focus, trying to make sense of the situation unfolding around me. The details of the murder case float by, but my mind struggle to process the information.

"Stanley!"

Detective Kola's voice snaps me out of my daze as my attention goes to his stoic face.

"Um–yes, sir," I stammer, attempting to collect myself.

"You and Detective Thompson,"—he nods towards the end of the room—"will be conducting a thorough examination of the areas surrounding the crime scene—evidences and witnesses."

I glance in that direction and see Anna, her expression serious as she avoids my gaze. She gives a firm nod.

"Rookie, you with me?"

I flick my gaze back to him. "Yes, sir."

"You are all dismissed."

The room begins to buzz with low conversations as everyone disperse, carrying their notepads and jackets along with them.

I force myself to rise from the chair and walk over to where Anna sits. I swallow a thick rock with spikes when she turns to face me squarely.

"Hi."

"We have a job to do. Let's stay focused," she says curtly, her tone devoid of the friendliness and warmth it always had.

I can feel a lump forming in my throat but I swallow it back together with my response. Instead, I nod meekly.

We make our way out of the bullpen and exit the building as she leads the way with me trailing closely behind her. As we step outside, she heads towards her car, and I quickly get in the passenger seat.

The drive is heavy with silence, the weight of unspoken words and dried blood hang in the air, suffocating any chance of a conversation. Anyway, I clear my throat and say, "So, what gives?"

She turns to me, an incredulous look on her face. With a shake of her head, she replies, "Double homicide, both females. Forty days apart. Multiple stabs."

Although the answer isn't quite what I want, it's still information—which I should know if I paid attention. My gaze lingers on her and she sighs,

"Stan, do you want to keep staring at me as if you have no idea what happened?"

I stay silent.

"You disappeared. I called and called, you didn't pick up," she says, her knuckles white from her grip on the steering wheel. "I wake up and..."

She trails off and I know what she's about to say. Everything clicks into place.

"You wake up," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, "and you see me covered in blood."

Her eyes flicker between the road and my face, her expression sullen. And that's when I complete the puzzle, I was never pranked. Anna never pranked me.

"I swear, Stan, I never meant to leave. I was scared... I was very scared."

I sit stunned in silence, not even bothering when Anna says she doesn't fully trust me. All that clouds my mind is where I disappeared to.

"After I left, I assumed that maybe you got injured or you have started self-harming because of the nightmares," her voice is far away, as if from another dimension

I don't say anything.

She clears her throat, a sense of formality settles in her voice, "I'm sorry."

Anna brings the car to a halt, and my heart races as I slide out of the car, scanning the surroundings. As I stand there, something hits me— a sense of déjà vu. The scene before me seems familiar; every sign board, every building, and even the pavement beneath my feet, as if etched somewhere behind my brain

Anna and I move forward, we see caution tapes flapping listlessly around a fence. The rusted metal odour lingers, a constant reminder that the only hope I've held on to isn't true.

After more than a dozen inquiries, we find a jewellery shop overlooking the back of the crime scene. Anna asks if there are witnesses but the shopkeeper shakes his head. Anna asks more questions and our hopes for leads diminish with each unanswered question.

I ask for surveillance cameras. The shopkeeper informs us that there are cameras, but they sometimes glitch. Anna requests access to the recordings, eager for any glimpse that might shed light on the truth.

Anna steps out to take an important call. I'm alone in a dimly lit room filled with monitors and gadgets. The hum of electricity fills the space. I begin reviewing the footage from yesterday.

The monitors flicker to life, displaying the captured images. My eyes scour the screens, watching mundane moments, until something catches my attention—a figure clad in a hood, scaling the fence with a knife in its hand. My breath catches in my throat when he jumps down and the hood slips off, revealing a face that sends a shiver down my spine.

I see red.

Not just the fleeting splatters I had become accustomed to, but a vibrant, overwhelming red that drowns out everything else.

COMMENTARY: This one hit me sha! Lets hear from the baba Judges!🔥

JUDGES REVIEWS

Judge Maya Angelou

I can tell that you are a good writer... a very creative one at that. You know the exact thing to write on that will grab your readers and that's one of the most important things you need to succeed as a writer; the ability to grab the attention of your reader.

While this piece is gold... I feel it would have been better if you used it in a Cliffhanger stage– if there is going to be a cliffhanger stage. Because you kept all of us on edge. Like, I really want to know what the character saw... and the source of everything creepy going on around him.

All in all, this is a good piece. Keep it up.

Judge Acton Bell

First off, I love the way you used punctuations; so neat. I enjoyed reading your story. You executed your creativity beautifully. Your descriptions were on point. Honestly, I am impressed! I want to see you do more. Don't you dare relent.

Judge Karen Kingsbury

You wrote this neatly. It's obvious you know writing tips and you used them. Your punctuation was lovely. However, your work didn't give off any Nigerian vibe. If you had played around with their names, made it more local( Tribal) since the setting seemed foreign it would have worked. Your story flow was beautiful and your ending was on point.

The ending, though, could have been worded better. Or is it could have been clearer? The way it ended was murky.

Judge James Hardley Chase

This is beautiful, I enjoyed your work, I also see you going far in this competition, just keep it up and do not relent, I really want to see you up there. Keep it up sweartheart. I love this!

Judge Shakespeare

I liketh how thy st'ry wast predictable and unpredictable at the same timeth. Thee hadst me on the edge of mine own seat. So t's confirm'd yond our guy is the killeth'r. Or is that gent?

Oh well, in the w'rds of Queen Charlotte, one of mine own num'rous f'rm'r lov'rs, s'rrows, s'rrows, prayeth'rs.

I like how your story was predictable and unpredictable at the same time. You had me on the edge of my seat. So it's confirmed that our guy is the killer. Or is he?

Oh well, in the words of Queen Charlotte, one of my numerous former lovers, Sorrows, sorrows, prayers.

Judge Jane Austen

You're writing a genre, a trope, that I would read, but you're not writing it in a way that I'd have loved to read. If you're venturing into uncharted territory, you need to do research. You want to write a story featuring cops as major characters, you need to look up cop jargon and cop mannerisms. You can't write a cop character the way you'll write a civilian character. Also, with flash fiction, it's best to keep your characters few. The more characters you have, the more responsibility you have to bear. If you manage to make it, do change these things.

COMMENTARY: As e still dey hot, let's move on to our last contestant for this batch!🔥

023 Aurelius

Prompt: Everyday, the same thing keeps happening...

Story Entry;

Ruptured Sameness

Everyday the same thing happens. Every sunrise bleeds into other sunsets like the colors of a bad gouache. The once vivid flavors of life decays into blue-gray mustiness of familiarity.

You might possibly think how improbable this is, given the myriad of personalities the Divine plan has blessed earth with. Come along, I'll treat you to a cross section of how life is burned on banal occurrences. This is the reality of an immortal guardian.

Human life is separated into three periods. Three acts. Once you see things through this lens it all becomes a bland vision you've lived a thousand times. Each day becomes a recollection,  déjà vu. Every century a relentless loop of unending layers like nesting dolls.

ACT I:

The morning years.

Scene I:

The sun rises bathing the sleepy village in golden shafts of heaven. The same sun that shone before the ineffable plan required humans. The one that scorched her ancestors and warmed the ground they trod. At cockcrow. Another day begins. The curtain rises on this timeless play as the cast readies to play their roles.

Out comes Adeife, radiant, fresh as the risen sun. She kneels a greeting to her mother. Picking the black water pitcher from a cradle of its broken brethren, like a victor in the entrails of the slain.

As always on all days with mornings. Against her mother's wishes, she goes to Asake's house to gather water from the spring. Unfortunately, human children weren't known for their obedience. The girl and her friend walked down the meandering footpaths crowded with crawling vines.

Usually this is where I took off and left them to their trek. Adeife is inconsequential in the grand plot but that's what made her precious. Her mundane humanity.

Quite quickly you tire of following 'the greats.' Yes, Achilles might be the best of the Greeks but his ego was beyond this earth and he chewed with his mouth open. Moremi was a great warrior queen but she always smelled of choking citrus.

Getting to the bubbling spring, they cast their pots into the gnarly roots of the udala trees shading the pool. With a splash and mischief they jump in, the clear water now frothing, brown with disturbed sediment. Screaming and giggling from the tingling water, their errand abandoned. Their happiness attracts the old maiden who guards the water. Painful reminders of her youth. She chases them with a cane crooked as her back.

Here, I leave to watch my ward. A young prince, north of the Niger River. An indispensable cog in the Divine plan.

Scene II:

Hurrying back from my trip up north. Whether I protect him or not, the prince would be fine. He always is.

I heard them before I saw her. It could have been a boxing match from the sounds of it. The noise of flesh hitting soft flesh interspersed with the clear, twinkling chimes of their glee. Adeife, Asake, and her sisters were playing a round of Tinko-Tinko. Their legs kicking up dust, casting them in a red haze of glorious wonder like cherubs in Eden.

The game continued, all blind to my presence. Both hands moving so fast I contemplated slowing time to ensure fairness. This volley of numbers and slapping hands went on with increasing speed until Asake skipped a beat, throwing off the rhythmic sounds. She collapsed into a heaving heap, Adeife joining her on the sand. Her dark eyes, bright and  playful, lost in joyful abandon.

I knew she would win. She does every time. They soon recovered their wits and started another game of Tenté with the younger girls. That's how it's played every afternoon. Tinko-Tinko, Tenté and Lako until the light wanes and mama screams their names.

Scene III:

In the pale silver light of the waxing crescent, a lazy breeze blows a welcome respite from the afternoon heat. The family's stomach filled with a hearty meal. Baba Ife -a cold wizened man, drunk on fresh palm wine and the moon's glow. The town boys drag him to his storytelling throne. He sits on the rocking chair under the lime tree in the center of the compound. His tongue loosened from rich food and sweet alcohol.

He speaks thinly veiled beatitudes. Tall tales of  the land kissing the skies, cunning tortoises and chattering porpoises. The children listen on, mouth agape and eyes glazed with burning imagination.

Now I, being of sound mind, know for a fact that's not true. Animals don't talk. I should  know, I was there at their creation.

Scene IV:

Same sun. Same cock. Same cast. Same pitchers, spring, spinster. Exhausting sameness.

Scene V:

Tinko-Tinko. Tenté. Lako. Same games. Same players. Same winner.

A featureless male from last night's story circle interrupted their play to summon Adeife. Her father required her to come immediately. They begged him to buy them more time to complete one round. He refused, remaining staunchly adamant. Earning a reprimand they way tween girls tend to do to their male counterparts. Adeife was confused by this. This had never happened, the afternoon was theirs to spend on fun and childish wanderings. She decided to go with him. Maybe father needed help and he'll leave her soon to go back to her interrupted game. Unbeknownst to her, he was interrupting more than just their game.

No matter how the interruption evolved, I was sure to have witnessed it eons ago. When you're beyond time's greying hands things like this hardly surprises you.

Scene VI:

Baba Ife's living room wasn't a place I often visited. It's a dark room with no circulation and a temperature that reminded me too much of down below. A pack of men sat on the couch opposite Baba Ife. A man, obviously their leader, was seated in the middle. He was handsome in the same way Nero the Prosecutor was. Tall, dark, calculating with a face that Michelangelo would have begged to sculpt. He was deep in a bargain tussle with the older man. He gestured in exasperation towards a bright heap sitting beside his clan. Strewn haphazardly were rainbows of coral beads, rows of cultured pearls, endless yards ofi from Oyo, bales of purple silk, overflowing gourds of palm wine, sacks of polished rice and yam and bags bursting with bone-white cowries. He wasn't going to leave without getting the prize he came for.

Adeife appeared, gleaming and ethereal like the pearls pouring on the floor. Her raven hair braided into a glossy updo was adorned with scarlet beads. The brown play clothes exchanged for a blue adire. Her eyes. Her big, black doleful eyes lined with fine antimony. She could've been mistaken for Oshun save for the brimming fear in her soul.

She hesitated.

"Father..." Was all she said before her voice betrayed her, giving away her smothering panic.

She made eye contact with the man. He smiled, a strange smile she didn't understand. I did. It was the smile the hawk gave to the chick.

Childhood ends

This is where we leave. Come again on some other-same day when the moon wanes crescent and I'll reveal to you the 2nd act of this rifted yet same monotony.

COMMENTARY: Sir/Ma?🔥🔥 Let's hear from the judges!🔥

JUDGES REVIEWS

Judge Acton Bell

Personally, the Act 1, Scene 1 thing you did was not necessary. You could have told this same story with the use of third person limited, or even omniscient. But then, I like the way you described the setting of the story. I saw the village, the spring, the girls getting water in their pots, the children playing around— you painted a beautiful picture, really. I just wish you had done something a little bit differently. Then maybe this would have been more than a banger. Also, your use of tense was inconsistent—work on that. Plus, you didn't follow instructions: you helped us to change the prompt, work wey we no send you. Overall, though, I think you have a lot more to offer, Aurelius.

Judge Karen Kingsbury

You write well. Your style is new and you started with the prompt. But because of the 'Acts' and 'Scenes' this gives off the impression of a drama. Maybe you weren't going for that and you just wanted to pass a point across, with a different style, but whatever it was, it gave off the impression of a drama instead of a prose.

Next time —if you move along — try to avoid anything like this.

Judge Maya Angelou

The one and only thing that put me off about your story was the "Acts and Scenes". I want to believe you know the difference between a drama and a prose, and I hope you know that this competition is strictly prose written. Acts and Scenes are elements of drama and drama only. They have no place in a prose work.

Asides this mishap, you have a good story. I liked the way you interpret the prompt and I, most especially, loved the setting and how everything built up to a certain moment. Good job.

Judge James Hardley Chase

Just a quick reminder, this competition is all about Nigerian Prose, not Nigerian Play. It was a nice read. But if you get into the next stage, don't submit a play.

Judge Jk Rowling

Despite the fact that you are an impeccable writer, Project Pen made it clear that this is a Prose contest, and you submitted a play. This is only the first stage. If this is excused by the other judges and you pass on to the next stage, please don't make this mistake again.

That aside, your work is brilliant. You have a professional way of using your words and your word play is top notch. You have a gift, Aurelius, just try dey hear word next time (if there's a next time for you) and be keen to instructions. Thanks and God bless.

Judge Jane Austen

This doesn't look impressive at first glance, but phew! The more I read, the better it gets. Next time, don't use Acts. Just label the parts with Roman Numerals and some other weird designation. But the culmination of everything in the loss of Adeife's virginity is masterful. That really is the way a lot of girls have lost their innocence: unsuspectingly, at the hands of someone they didn't expect it from. That really has happened a lot of times, especially from the viewpoint of an immortal existence. Your diction and tone is a breath of fresh air, a departure from everything I've been reading earlier. Good, good.

COMMENTARY: Whoosh!🔥

Well that's it for Batch FOUR! Who was your best?? Comment RAWR if your fave repped you well!🔥 Stay tuned! 7pm the next batch drops! 🔥