Beloved cribbers of the most High 

You are welcome to the last batch of the judges review.
And in this batch we will be having the following contestants

019 ASCENDANT     

022 MAN OF STEEZE

024 ANOINTED SCRIBES

029 MEDUSA

030 HOMA

Now unto the first contestant 😗

                                      019 THE ASCENDANT

Mama sits in her favorite wooden chair, chewing stick in one hand, a thin long cane in the other. Adjusting her old woman glasses, the square lenses resting on the tip of her nose, she gives the children a stern look.

Shina and Lola are kneeling in front of her, using their knuckles to hit the floor repeatedly. Lola has already started crying, but Grandma doesn't release them; she knows those are crocodile tears. 

"Now listen carefully. If your mother never warned you, I am warning you now." Mama says, pointing her finger at the children.

"The next time I see the both of you play with that druggie boy, I will drag you both to the village with me. No more iPad and Cartoon Network, the only fun you will be having is playing with sticks and tyres at the back of my house. Do you hear me?" Mama says 

"But we only wanted to say hi to his cat." Shina starts saying 

"Leave his cat with him! Don't you know that cats are witches? Ehn Shina?" 

Their mother, Aisha, walks in, noticing the serious mood and her children on their knees. She hurries over, her face filled with worry.

"Mama, why are they on their knees?" Aisha asks Mama

"Can't you see they are being punished?”

"Mama, we don't punish children like this anymore. You could've just warned them. See,e, Lola's hands are red; she's already crying." Aisha says moving to pick Lola up.

"If you dare. It is because of this rubbish modern parenting that your children are running around with that druggie boy and his witch cat. Is it until what happened happens again? Ehn Mummy Shina?." Mama says.

"It is good that you are here. Sit down and tell them the story of what happened at that time. Maybe they'll learn from it."  Mama says, tapping the stool in front of her for Aisha to sit.

"Mama, I don't have time for this," Aisha says.

"Would you prefer kneeling with them? Sit down and tell them. Don't forget to start the way I taught you." Mama says and Aisha sits on the stool.

"Story story," Aisha calls.

"Story!!." Mama responds, causing Aisha to roll her eyes.

“In our neighborhood, most of the houses were divided into tiny single-room homes we called "Face me, I slap you". They had brown steel roofs that made a fun clinking sound when it rained. Each set of homes shared a kitchen and had four small bathrooms and toilets for everyone to use. Despite their small size, the houses were filled with kids running around laughing and shouting, making the streets lively.

The streets were mostly sandy and messy, with empty sachets torn 10 naira sweet wrappers and mango seeds that had been sucked white. Sometimes the mango seeds were kept until they were really dry. Then we'd break them open, hoping to find beetles hiding inside. 

We loved playing outside. Some of us were always covered in sweat and dirt from racing around with tyres. Others, especially the girls, would gather in the shade to play suwe and tenten. 

Sometimes all of us would come together for games like Police and Thief, running around till we were out of breath.

When we weren't playing we were eating. The air filled with the almost burnt smell of jollof rice coming from Mama Sao's canteen, mixed with the smoky scent of charcoal fires. With just 50 naira we could buy food and snacks like sweet Baba Dudu and colourful juices in packs shaped like phones. And in the evening the street would quiet down.

That's how things have always been. Until something new happened one day, A young man moved into the building opposite ours. His name was Uncle Femi. He rode a vintage Ford maverick and wore baggy shirts with khaki pants. 

He was always kind to everybody, especially the children. Bringing snacks from Mr Biggs every evening after work, he even allowed some of us to play in his car.

My best friend Shade and I always liked to play pretend in his car. Shade was always the conductor and I, the driver. Until Mama saw us one evening, she took us inside and gave us a proper beating. Pulling both our ears, she said.

"I do not want to see you anywhere close to that uncle and his car. Do you understand?" 

"But there's nothing wrong with Uncle Femi. He's very nice to us and he buys us snacks." I responded with tears running down my face.

"There is everything wrong with that boy. Don't let me see you there again. Shade oya…go home." 

After that day, we didn't meet Uncle Femi again, well for two days we didn't meet him. The third day after Mama warned us, Shade and I were right back in Uncle Femi's car playing driver and conductor. 

This time around, Uncle Femi promised to take us to Mr Biggs once he was done working upstairs. 

But it was getting late already and I knew Mama would soon come back home. 

"Shade, let's go home. Mama will soon be back." I tell shade 

"But Uncle Femi promised to take us to Mr Biggs." She replies 

"We can't go to Mr Biggs anymore, it's getting late. we'll go tomorrow." I tell her but she doesn't listen.

"You go home. I'm going to Mr Biggs, and when I come back, I won't give you any of my snacks.”  

I hissed loudly getting out of the car.

"Who even wants your Mr Biggs," I say walking home.

Around 10 pm that night, there's a loud knock on the door, and Mama goes to open it. Mummy Shade is standing outside the door, her eyes filled with rage.

"Mama Aisha, shouldn't you have told Shade to come home? Is it not late already? Tell her to come out." Mummy Shade says

"Shade is not here. I haven't seen her at all today, I only met Aisha at home when I got back." Mama responds 

"The children saw them playing together this afternoon. Aisha, where is Shade?" They both turn to me. 

"Sha...Shade...she was in Uncle Femi's car when I left her. I told her that it was late and that we should go home but she said she wants to go to Mr Biggs with Uncle Femi." I say, my voice shaking.

"Ah Mogbe!." Mummy Shade shouts running outside with her hands on her head. Mama rushes after her. 

Shade and Uncle Femi did not come back from Mr Biggs that night. They did not come back the next day either, they did not come back again.

I never saw my best friend again.

And I never disobeyed Mama again.”

Aisha finishes her story, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"So when next are the both of you going to the neighbor's flat?." Grandma asks, peering down at the children.

"Never again." They both say in unison.

"Good children." Grandma notices Aisha leaving the house again.

"Where are you off to again?." She asks

"The story made me suddenly crave Cabin biscuits. I'll be right back" Aisha says making Grandma chuckle

COMMENTARY: What a story🥺. Judges🎤

JUDGES REVIEW

JUDGE NADIA SULAIMAN

Punctuations… What happened?

I don't understand. 

I tried pointing them out, but there were so many, I lost count. This is not you. What happened, Ascendant? Be careful, please. And read through your work to be sure that you have no unnecessary mistakes. Your work was a good read. The punctuations just kinda messed it up. 

JUDGE OLAITAN DAVIS

Quite tragic, but it didn't do it for me.

JUDGE NINA OGBEIDE

The only thing I love about your story is the last line. Your story is quite good even though it’s a cliche one but cliches aren’t always bad. The only problem is that it didn’t do justice to the theme you were asked to write on. 

JUDGE UMAR HASAN

Zo, this woman. What on earth happened to your dialogue quotes at some point? You...forgot how to use them? And your punctuations. You didn't make mistakes with your punctuations in the last stage. In fact, I can recall how neat your work was last stage, but now, your punctuation is all over the place? Did someone else write for you last stage? Tell me; don't worry, your secret isn't safe with me. And then, the whole story didn't give what it was asked for. Honestly, I feel like pulling your ears. But you're just lucky I'm too cool for that. Very lucky. 

JUDGE GIWA FALADE

Ascendant, what’s the meaning of this - ?.

Why do I keep seeing it in your work? Why is there a period after question mark? 

Don’t let me swear for you o!

COMMENTARY: Let's welcome the only man who has decided to maintain steeze in the midst of trials and tribulations 🎉

022 MAN OF STEEZE

STORY ENTRY;

I knew right away when Dr. Sharma had called that a Nigerian man had been brought in somersaulting uncontrollably that it was Mágun. I didn't go to the hospital as they had requested, I just told them to take the man to the married woman he had slept with.

The next day, Dr. Sharma asked me to walk with him. My heart raced as I imagined the plaque on my own office door and the congratulatory handshake. But as we walked, he paused and looked at me.

"You referred to it as Mah-goon," Dr. Sharma said, his fingers tracing the acne scars on his face. "Dough-tun, I want to understand more about how these charms work."

I forced a chuckle. I wanted to tell him to take the next flight to Nigeria and find out himself, but an idea came to me. I'd immerse Dr. Sharma into my story that in the end, he'd have no choice but to consider my promotion. 

"Okay. How about I tell you my experience with charms," I said.

"That'll be amazing."

                                                 •••

Our compound buzzed with heated voices and shrieks that I could hear before it even came into view. I hesitated, tempted to go back to Segun's house but curiosity pulled me forward. It'd be one of two things; a fight between my stepmothers or their children. It was always like that. 

I peered through a crack in the wall, catching blurry movements and the sound of a muffled cry. Moving stealthily, I eased into the house. I first saw Mama Tobi's—my father's second wife—charcoal-dark face fuming towards our hut.

"It is enough!" My father's voice came from our hut. I entered the house fully to find, Tobi on his knees, and my mother sitting in a corner, sobbing into her blouse. 

"Err, Tobi, you said you didn't take the money?" Baba said, his words coming out a bit slurred. 

"Just because he took a rotten sewing machine one time doesn't mean it's him everyday ó." Iya Tobi made a show of jiggling her watery body with her hands splayed before she clasped them above her head.

"Iya Tobi it's enough. Ahn Ahn." Baba turned to Tobi, "Oya you stand up. Kiké, search the room again, it might have slipped somewhere."

"Daddy Dayo, I have checked everywhere. And this is not the first time my money has been missing."

"Then what do you want me to do, woman?" Baba shook his head. "Please I don't like disturbance. I am going out."

Baba sauntered out of the house, his feet all over the place. He went past me, ignoring my 'ẹkáàsán sir', into the calf-length bushes that led to the junction where his maudlin friends chugged on ogogoro and talked rubbish with their kola-stained teeth.

"Every time us. Us!" Iya Tobi drew a long hiss and pulled her son into her larger hut. 

"Mami?" I called out. She wiped her tears. I walked briskly towards her. I remembered when she had asked me if I had seen the Ajo money women brought to our house.

"Let's check again." She stood up and dusted the back of her wrapper. She stepped into the hut and I followed. We searched every cranny of our fusty hut and the only thing we found was the source of the putrid smell pervading our hut.

Dr. Sharma, I didn't say nook and cranny because our hut had a circular structure and why are you in a rush? We didn't find the money at that time, now I'd like to continue.

A week had gone by and my mother couldn't tell the women the Ajo money was missing. I took to stalking my step-siblings to see who was spending more than their weekly ten naira. One time, I crept through bushes and shrubs tailing Tobi and his friends. They talked about buying many things from the new market.

I stopped in my tracks when I felt a hand brush my back. They had caught me. I turned carefully expecting a slap, but met Segun's grinning face.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

I sighed, relieved. "I'm just looking for Tobi. You nko?"

He smiled wildly and told me he'd returned from the Babalawo, a shaman, who'd given his mother something in a bottle to bury after multiple thefts in their house. "It was my uncle," he said. "We found him sweeping from morning till night until Mama remembered what the Babalawo said."

"What did he say?" I asked.

Dr. Sharma, that was exactly what I asked Segun. Apparently, the thief would sweep until the owner stopped him before returning the money. Shall I continue? Good.

Dusk found me far from our compound. Earlier, as we played Sùwe, I had probed Segun until he had told me where they had buried it. Sand and small stones caked my fingers as I clawed through the dirt. My hands found a smooth surface, and I managed to wrench the bottle out. I quickly pushed sand back into the hole with my foot—

Oh God! Are you m... Dr. Sharma, I'm sorry for snapping, but I'm getting there. I'm actually enjoying the story too, it's making me feel... things. Please don't interrupt me. Now, where was I? Right, where I buried it.

I hurried home and slipped into our hut. Our food sat beneath the bed, meaning my mother hadn't returned. I darted outside to the side of our hut where the kerosene lantern's glow couldn't reach. I dug a shallow hole and buried the bottle. 

That night, after getting mire off my hands, I couldn't put a bite of food in my mouth. I was jittery, so I went to bed early. When Mami came back and asked if I was awake, I pretended to be asleep. Tomorrow haunted me; visions of Tobi sweeping nonstop hovered before my eyes. Then it was Mami. What if she’d put the money somewhere else and forgotten, and I woke up to see her sweeping?

Dr. Sharma, it’s getting late. Ready to head home? No? Well, I’m exhausted. If you want the whole story now, how about a deal? I’ll push through my fatigue, but you promise me that promotion. Fair enough, eh? Great, let’s dive back in.

The next day was almost banal. I woke up to a spotless compound. My ears itched for the sound of broom. I ran to where I had buried the bottle. It was there. I wanted to run to Segun's house and ask what would happen next but he'd know I had taken it. I wandered around the house and stood beneath the eave. Mami turned the corner, revealing herself on the grass path. I wondered where she'd gone. She seemed angry, but as she inched closer, she looked mostly confused. 

"Mami, good morning."

"Ehen ọkò mí. I took the Ajo money to Iya Barakat to keep for me. Your father was right, I found it under my pillow."

I felt like I was being spun with a turning stick. Mami would start sweeping. My bowels loosened.

"Mami, did you sweep today?" I asked, already sweating despite the morning breeze.

"Rárá ó." She frowned, "It was your father who swept the whole compound today until I asked him to stop and give Dayo."

COMMENTARY: This Steeze man never fails. But let's see if the judges will shake his steeze🥱

JUDGES REVIEW

JUDGE NADIA SULAIMAN

My guy, you're a born storyteller. 

Like, to be honest, you are good at this. You know how to create classics, you really do. I loved this story. The twist at the end had me laughing. And I absolutely love when people play with traditional superstition in stories. And in a Children's Fiction genre, like the one in this stage, those are one of the best things to play around with. Loved this one. Completely. 

JUDGE OLAITAN DAVIS

Baba don thief Ajo money. Jokes aside, this wasn't what I was expecting from you. Your steeze don dey drop small small. The italicized words had me confused. Was he talking to Dr. Sharma on his mind or what? I really don't understand what you were trying to do there. 

JUDGE NINA OGBEIDE

A great story but one that’s completely against the theme you were asked to ask for.

JUDGE UMAR HASAN

Nice storytelling. But that was it for me. 

JUDGE GIWA FALADE

Man of Steeze, there was too much going on in your story. I think you should have stuck to the main story instead of starting with the whole Dr Sharma thing and giving us those weird, unnecessary breaks between the paragraphs just to show that the main character was telling a story. 

With that being said, I liked the direction you took, though I’m not sure non- yorubas will be able to relate to it. I also liked the twist in the ending. 

COMMENTARY: That wasn't bad. NEXT!

024 ANOINTED SCRIBES

LOOK UP, CHILD!

"Mama!" Rosie, a six-year-old cutie, looked up from her colouring book. She held the pink wax crayon she'd been using to carefully colour the abstract sketch on the open page.

"Yes, Sweetheart?" her mother, Cynthia Ose, who was scrubbing off the soot from the back of the pot she'd used that morning to cook Jollof rice, answered. 

"Why don't I have a Papa?" 

Cynthia froze for a second. She let out a big sigh, rinsed her soapy hands with running water from the tap and wiped them on her jeans. 

She turned and stared into the big, brown eyes of her daughter that were almost the exact copy of hers. 

"Why are you asking?" she asked. 

The question from Rosie was not a surprise. This wasn't the first time Cynthia had to find a way to answer her smart little munchkin about the ‘absence’ of her father. 

The memories of the good old times always made her want to cry. 

No, she was not a divorcee—how could she ever divorce her perfect Matthew? And no, she didn't get pregnant out of wedlock—that was more or less forbidden, given her faith.  

Tragedy struck and snatched away the love of her life just after Rosie was born.

Rosie shrugged and focused back on her colouring exercise. "Jemima asked me about my Papa in class today. And I told her that I will ask my Mama." 

Cynthia knew Jemima was Rosie's current best friend. Her little girl was outgoing and curious, and she had lots of friends. That passed-down, bubbly trait was what attracted her to Matthew in the first place. 

Cynthia forced a smile and patted Rosie's hair. Inside, her heart squeezed in her chest. 

Rosie had soft, curly, black hair just like Matthew's had been. It was lovely to touch and look at, especially when it was styled in braids and beads.  

"You have a father, sweetheart." 

Cynthia chose to believe with all her heart that Matthew was not dead, in the final sense of the word. After all, wasn't death simply a passage to paradise?

"But, Mama... Where is he? I don't see him!" Rosie said, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "He don't carry me to school in his car like my other friends. He don't take me out on weekends and holidays."

Cynthia shot up a quick prayer for wisdom to answer her daughter. Almost immediately, a brilliant idea came into her mind.

"Come with me, Rosie," she said as she reached out her hand to help Rosie out of her chair. 

They went outside. It was past sunset and the sky was slowly getting darker. The stars were not out yet. 

This was the perfect night for bustling sounds of cars and opening night clubs that was the norm in Port Harcourt, especially since it was the weekend. 

Yet, their estate was one of the most serene locations in Port Harcourt. 

Cynthia sat on the top of the steps that led up to their front porch. She made Rosie sit between her laps. 

"Look up, Sweetheart."

Rosie tilted her small head up and blinked repeatedly as she gazed at the wide expanse of nothingness.

"What do you see?"

"Uh... Nothing?"

"Well, do you know that the stars and the moon are up there?"

"But Mama, I don't see them," Rosie said, squinting hard as she peered at the sky. 

"Yes, they are not visible now. But that doesn't mean they are not there."

Rosie scrunched her face in contemplation. "I still don't understand."

"Do you remember your favourite cartoon, Lion King?"

Rosie perked up, grinned and nodded her head. 

"Oh, yes! I do!"  

"Remember the song, 'He lives in you'?" 

Cynthia began to sing. Rosie happily joined in, even though she murdered the lyrics.

As she finished the song, Cynthia blew raspberries into Rosie's neck. Rosie's giggles grew into loud shrieks of delight when Cynthia tickled her silly. 

After she had calmed down, Rosie asked, "Mama, are you saying that, like Simba's father, Papa is watching over me?"

"Yes, sweetheart and he is so proud of you."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

Comfortable silence reigned. Rosie stirred after a moment of star-gazing and whispered, "Mama, is Papa dead?"

Cynthia sighed heavily, trying to hold back the sudden fountain of tears that welled up in her. Maybe the Lion King hadn't been the greatest analogy to use. 

Rosie's smart mind must have figured out that since Mufasa, Simba's father in the cartoon ldied, then her father was also dead. And that was the truth. Matthew, like Mufasa, had died to save his only child. 

Rosie didn't know, but the moment she was born, she was diagnosed with a bone marrow disease. It was so severe that the doctors were sure that unless there was a miracle, Rosie wouldn't live for more than two weeks. 

And so, the helter-skelter began. Matthew, who had been a successful businessman, was able to gather enough money to take baby Rosie to India for an emergency surgery. Being the only relative with a ninety percent compatible with Rosie's fragile system, he was the bone marrow donor. 

Everything would have been a breeze had it not been for a post-surgery complication. It was after the doctors had completed the transplant that they discovered that Matthew had an underlying health condition that made him even more open to an attack on his immune system. Unfortunately, they hadn't taken the necessary precautions. He died two days after the surgery.

Cynthia was shattered by his death. But she consoled herself with the thought that a part of her husband lived on in Rosie.

For six years, she had raised her baby girl to the best of her ability. Sometimes loneliness overwhelmed her, and she wondered if her lovely few years with Matthew would be forgotten forever. But then, Rosie would skip in with her brilliant smile and ease her pain. 

That was why she still kept the circumstances of her husband's death away from Rosie. She didn't want her to feel guilty for her father's death. 

"Sweetheart, just keep this in mind: your father, just like these beautiful twinkling stars that you are now seeing, is in heaven. He loves you so much, more than you can ever know. He's my hero, and yours too."

"Wow!" Rosie breathed out in innocence. "So, Papa is a hero! Like Superman. That's why he is invisible and shines like the stars. Oh, Jemima will be so jealous!" she chirped, bouncing up and down like a ball. 

Cynthia chuckled, and a tear slipped out of her eyes. 

That night, as Cynthia lay on her bed, cuddling her pillow, she scrolled through pictures of her late husband on her phone. She laughed and cried at all the memories revisiting his pictures ignited. 

Meanwhile, Rosie enjoyed one of the best nights of her life, dreaming of stars, flying capes and her invisible superhero father, who was always with her, protecting her. 

COMMENTARY: Judges, is she really anointed?

JUDGES REVIEW

JUDGE NADIA SULAIMAN

This was beautiful. Look, it had it's hitches here and there, but generally, it was beautiful. 

Now, these are where I had the issues. First off, when you want to write a story under a given theme, you should follow the theme with a walking-on-egg-shells kinda attitude. Your story was PG. But mentions of stuff like Pregnancy and death was a little dark… but there are ways you could have done this that would have been less strong. For instance, instead of saying she was pregnant for someone, you could have said she had the the person. And instead of the kid asking, “Is papa dead?” She should have asked, “Is papa in heaven?” I don't know if you get the point. This was children's fiction; make your work as *light* as you possibly could. 

Also, the part where the Dad's death was explained was not necessary. We didn't need to know all that in those kind of details. Quick short and light details would have been all we needed to hear. 

If you had used “Is papa in heaven?” instead of “Is papa dead?”, that would have been a game-changer for your work. Imagine a child smiling and excited at the fact that their daddy is in heaven… not understanding the implications of it. That, in fact, he is dead. 

Just imagine. 

You could have had an even more tear jerking and amazing story there. And you could have showed how naive and innocent children can be, in a beautiful and emotional way. Again, that's the same talk about being clever that I have been giving in many reviews in this stage. You're a writer… Show us some bezarz in a way we don't expect. You get?

And finally, some use of words in your work confused me. I'm still trying to figure out how you could throw raspberries at someone's neck. But all these asides…

This was a beautiful work. Nonetheless. I mean… Frankly, if all my corrections were taken into consideration, this work could even be perfect to read for an actual child. 

JUDGE OLAITAN DAVIS

This was a decent read.

JUDGE NINA OGBEIDE

Amazing use of punctuations, stellar grammar and all but I think you didn’t get the theme you were supposed to write on for this stage because your story didn’t portray the theme at all. 

JUDGE UMAR HASAN

First, let me talk about how I love that you've improved. Your plot wasn't all over the place this time. And your punctuations were on point. But you see, let's get some things sorted out. When you hear children's fiction, it means that the main character is a child—or that the main characters are children—and whatever POV you use, you're telling the story from the child's perspective. I'll go easy on you because tbh, this wasn't an easy one to pull off. So, you tried. And your improvement in this stage is a huge encouragement. 

JUDGE GIWA FALADE

You tried small… just small. 

Didn’t quite hit it for me but I understood what you were trying to do. 

COMMENTARY: Its like this judges has made a resolution not to be impressed in this stage or the contestant's work are not just impressive 🤔.

NEXT!

029 MEDUSA

AKIN:

Last year, my best friend and I saved earth from the wrath of the God of Chisom Alone.

I know what you’re thinking: You met a God? Or what is ‘Chisom Alone?’ if you didn’t get to experience the grandeur of it.

Chisom Alone, much like the popular hand-clapping game Tinkom-Tinkom, involves two players clapping rhythmically to a song, but it’s obviously way better. Trust me, I’ve had a taste of both games.

Now, back to the first question. It all started last year when my mom sent me on an errand to get bread from the grocery store. It wasn’t my fault, Patrick, my friend who is as short as he is persuasive, invited me to a game of Chisom Alone. He’s so convincing, he could persuade my mom into give him the biggest chicken at dinner – a skill I am in dire need of.

I promised myself just one round, but one round turned into four, and four turned into twenty. At that point, I completely forgot all about the errand and was too busy with my winning streak against Patrick, 20-0. That was when things started to get fuzzy. The air grew hot, hotter than when I visited my cousins in Sokoto, and a black portal appeared. We were sucked in before I could say “bread.”

“Pawpaw, what did you do?” I asked Patrick – get it? Akin and Pawpaw – as we landed in a dark place. It was so dark, even the night vision I thought I got from eating lots of onion didn’t help.

“You’re asking me as if I have magical powers or something.” Patrick replied, his voice sounding far. I was honestly more worried of my mom’s reaction if I didn’t return home soon with bread in my hand than the thought of getting transported to an unknown place.

“You’re a man full of surprises.” I said, trying to see in the darkness.

“Omo, so you finally agree that I’m a man,” Patrick said, probably grinning widely. “Did I say man? I meant child,” I teased and he laughed.

Suddenly, the place lit up with fire, and monsters with stones for skin and glowing eyes lumbered around. I ran to Patrick, grabbing him tightly as we dodged the massive creatures.

“Is that Osamudiame?” Patrick pointed at the ugliest looking monster and I stifled a laugh. Osamudiame was one of our closest friends.

“Fame changed him.” I said making Patrick burst out laughing, and all the Monsters stared.

“Should we run?” I asked, eyes wide.

“Yes!” Patrick agreed, and we sprinted as fast as we could to God knows where. Anywhere was better than getting crushed by them.

A booming voice stopped us in our tracks. “You must be Akin.” The owner of the voice was enormous, sitting on a chair that matched his size. A toothy grin was plastered on his face, and his foot alone was probably as big as one of the monsters we saw earlier.

“Hmm, you’re kind of short.” His comment stung my ego. 5 foot 4 was a decent height for a twelve-year-old in my opinion.

“If you think he’s short, then I have no hope,” Patrick said, making me chuckle despite the fear. The huge man turned to Patrick, raising an eyebrow.

“And you must be Patrick?” he asked.

“Please, call me Pawpaw,” he said, unfazed. “But what are you? A monster?”

The God’s eyes flared with anger. “I am the God of Chisom Alone! Destroyer of planets, how dare you call me a monster?”

“That means you made the game? That liar Osamudiame told me it was him!” Patrick continued, oblivious to the God’s rage.

Before Patrick could anger him further, I spoke. “Oga, look at me. If I don’t get home with bread, I’m as good as dead. Why are we here exactly?” I was still trying to wrap my head around the whole God thing, I was sure this was all a vivid dream.

The God’s expression softened slightly. “I summoned you for a competition I host annually with other Gods.”

Patrick’s eyes widened. “The only thing I can do is eat eba o, you sure sey you no do mistake?”

“Yes” the God said. “The contest will test your skills in the game ‘Chisom Alone.’”

I gulped. “And what if we say no?”

“Then I will destroy your earth and every single thing that inhabits it.” He said it with so much seriousness.

The God raised his hand, and a large stage appeared. “You will play against the chosen champions of the 10th universe’s earth. Win and you return home.” Suddenly the God’s voice went an octave lower, “But if you lose, I will destroy the 9th universe’s earth – your earth.”

“There’s another earth?” I asked, confusion evident in my voice.

“Yes, yes, there are 50 universes, all layered on top of each other like a pancake. Each universe contains celestial bodies identical to yours. Some universes are quite similar, like the 9th and 10th, while universes like the 6th and 37th are drastically different. It’s quite difficult to explain everything to your mortal brain.” The God explained, “The only thing you should focus on is winning the competition and saving your planet.”

Patrick and I exchanged determined glances. The game began with monsters beating a drum while feminine-looking monsters sang the song. We started clapping rhythmically, so did Earth 10’s champions. Our opponents, who looked exactly like humans, were relentless, but nothing compared to us.

Unlike the usual rules Patrick and I usually followed, where the first to give up lost; this game was different, we both had to play longer than our opponents.

As the crowd of huge Gods and Goddesses watched in silence, sweat poured down my face, but I focused on the game. Patrick’s eyes were intense, even more concentrated than when he’s eating Afang soup – it was a rare sight.  

Once we were on the 50th round, our hands began to get tired, yet, we continued to deliver a flawless sequence, while our opponents faltered. With a final, dramatic clap, we won. Gold confetti fell on us, and the God of Chisom Alone clapped his massive hands in approval.

“Well done, Akin and Pawpaw,” the God spoke, his voice was filled with satisfaction. “You’ve proven yourselves worthy.”

The fiery surroundings began to fade, replaced by the familiar sight of our neighborhood. We stood in front of the grocery store, the money my mother gave me in hand.

Patrick and I exchanged relieved smiles. “We made it!” I spoke.

“Yeah, but you owe me a rematch,” Patrick grinned.

I laughed. “Let’s just buy bread and get home before I face another wrath.”

As we walked back home, I still couldn’t believe what happened. I mean, prior to this, the craziest thing that ever happened to me was when I thought a monster was eating my clothes, but it just turned out to be rats.

Let’s not forget, you could also get summoned to participate. Then, it’ll be up to you to save earth. Play the game and sing the song:

Chisom Alone.

Chisom, Maya and Jeremiah.

POME.

POME POME.

Sibi, sibi onirin.

Sibi, sibi onike.

Atewo, Atewo meta!

COMMENTARY: Did I just see Aki and paw paw?😂.
Judges !

JUDGES REVIEW

JUDGE NADIA SULAIMAN

Frankly, the best so far for me. I didn't read the contestants' stories in order of serial number though… if anyone would care to know.

This story reminded me of an actual folktale. These old stories that they would gather kids under the moonlight to tell. Those types that have a catchy song to it and everything. However, I would pick put a few things. 

First, most of these stories came with some sort of moral lesson. That's what made it so beautiful, asides the folkness of the entire story. In this case, I am still struggling to pick out a moral lesson. I haven't. It doesn't still disqualify this story as a good one though. 

Secondly, some parts of the story would have been better off simplified. One of the major issues in most of the entries is the bogus language in storytelling… which is unlike the Children Fiction genre. Your work was alright. Simple language and all. But some parts of the kid's dialogues looked a bit too ‘grown up’. But them again, most parts looked childish. Like where the God raged at them and announced his presence and Patrick was more interested in complaining about the friend that lied to him about making Chisom Alone. I'll give it to you. Sure, some parts of their language seemed too much things Adults would say, but it wasn't the case overrall.

In the same talk about simplicity, the whole breakdown part of the universes seemed a little bogus and unnecessary. You're working with Children's Fiction, so it's something that should be as simplified as possible, right? Little words, clear descriptions. You dig?

All that aside, this work was nothing short of beautiful. You're a great writer, Medusa.

JUDGE OLAITAN DAVIS

Number one: I'm confused.

Number two: You are obviously not referring to God Almighty. You are writing about a god. Take note of this correction.

JUDGE NINA OGBEIDE

Quite a funny story. It’s unusual too and quite memorable. I enjoyed it. 

JUDGE UMAR HASAN

Believe me, Medusa, I like that you tried to do something different. I like your creativity. But you see, when it comes to writing fantasy, you must know how to blend your story well. You must understand world building. You must know what you want us to see and make sure that we see it. Because tbvh, zaurawa, your story lacked a very much required coordination. And though the end of the story made the whole narrative make sense, it still wasn't enough. Your story had so much potential but the execution wasn't done well. 

JUDGE GIWA FALADE

I… I dinnur relate. Sorry. 

COMMENTARY: Let's have the last contestant for this batch!!

030 HOMA

TITLE: THE TRIALS OF ARAROMI VILLAGE

“Long ago, the beautiful village of Araromi lived together in relative peace and harmony. Sunflowers bloomed like smiles. The special children of the villagers who had extraordinary skills were the apple of their eyes.

Then, everything changed when the Kurukuru invaders took them away unknowingly. 

The children of Araromi village went missing day by day and one after the other till there were no children in the small village. Some children were taken away at the farm, their homes, the market square, and even in the great King's palace. 

Araromi, being a separated and magical village with strange powers, didn't know where the disaster came from. 

When the village needed the special children who brought balance to the land of Araromi the most, they were nowhere to be found.

Bad things kept happening to the villagers severally including their petals falling like tears. All they could remember was the children's laughter, cries, smiles, and footprints in the dust. 

In misery, morning, afternoon, and night were their mourning and wailing times. They had no food, little water, and there was no rain either. The once upon a time peace the villagers of Araromi had was lost forever.

Years passed and there was no solution and a little idea of where the children disappeared to. Only the newly born were in the village and they couldn't activate the power stones since none of the special children were found.

In hopelessness and grief, they lived until the warriors reignited their lost strength and caught some able-bodied men hiding in the shadows along the Eti-Osa River.

Araromi villagers, filled with anger and need for revenge, suspected the men they found in the dark. They pointed fingers at the invaders and swore to throw all the twenty-five captured invaders into the dungeon — a dark, old, and ancient prison hidden beneath the village, rumored to be cursed. Very bad prisoners were always kept in the dungeon. 

The Ijoba — the government — insisted on giving the captured men and women opportunities to save themselves by telling short stories. Maybe that would provide a solution to bring the special children back.

The handsome man at the center who was their leader spoke up. He said legend has it that the people of Ilaro lived in peace until their forefathers committed horrible sins. They got an unknown message stating the solution to solve their problems was in the land of Araromi. That explains their presence in the village to ask for forgiveness.

The aged woman, a priestess — a woman who has a lot of powers — explained her part of the story stating that many moons ago, Ilaro villagers lived in faithfulness and willingness to their gods until mistakes were made. They tried their best to amend it but couldn't. The wind whispered secrets of a forgotten past and the solution was in the hands of Araromi’s village. They took Araromi's special children to appease their gods. She also said they were lurking in the dark hiding place to find a suitable time to return the children to their land. The priestess added that the children were all alive and doing well.

Those that ruled Araromi village found good stories told by some of the invaders but some of them told bad stories. The Ijoba decided that on the Night of The Blood Moon, ten of the invaders would be thrown into the dungeon as their punishment.

And, on the blood moon night, the kind local healer, Iya Agba, and the Araromi villagers and with the help of the wolves whose powers were at their peak cast their stones and killed ten out of the invaders including the leader, whose words weren't convincing enough.

The wolves were one of the sacred gods of the people of Araromi's village. The wolves were so powerful that they could fulfill all their wishes as long as they obeyed them. 

With the lucky invaders, the warriors of Araromi went to the village of Ilaro and saved their children. The special children all returned to their fathers and mothers.

Orisabunmi, being the eldest of the special children, gave up her life to restore peace and balance to the land of Araromi. 

Till today, the period is known as The Trying Times Of Araromi and Orisabunmi is called INA ARAMONI which means The light of Araromi village. 

And that was how the Araromi villagers got their children back and forever lived in peace and harmony.”

Ayedun heaved a sigh of relief as she narrated the tale of Araromi to the kids seated under the moon's silver light.

“I am glad that Orisabunmi was a brave woman that saved everyone.” The eldest of the children, Tobiloba, son of Apeke, the Kilishi seller, spoke. 

After the children left, tears streamed down Ayedun's face preventing her from seeing well. “How I wish I can tell you I'm the rebirth of Orisabunmi sent to save this kingdom.”

Ayedun went on her knees and screamed, a desperate cry, through the gloomy night, a sound torn from the depth of her soul. 

COMMENTARY: Judges please

JUDGES REVIEW

JUDGE NADIA SULAIMAN

I started feeling you at the beginning, Homa. But you lost me after the first paragraph. The more I read down and saw this was just a remix of the role play we gave you, the faster my patience weaned. 

Why?

We made it clear that we don't expect you to write a story about how the children were saved. Save the goddamn children by telling a story. The instruction was not that complicated. It wasn't a crime to use the same roleplay example… but if you had to, you should have been extremely creative with it. Not just representing back to us another version of it. 

You're not a bad writer, Homa. 

And I have seen improvements in you since we started Project Pen. But I wish you did better in this one. 

JUDGE OLAITAN DAVIS

It’s always better to show us a story instead of telling us.

JUDGE UMAR HASAN

Your opening sentence should actually be written as: Long ago, the people of the beautiful village of Araromi lived together...

You get? You feel me? And zo, did you use the beginning story of Avatar as the basis of your own story? Lol, wow. Nawa o, this woman. Did you also use what was written in your document for this? But that wasn't the instruction, ya daodi. In fact, I can't believe you just—you know what? Nevermind. You want to make me talk too much in your review? Bã, it's not going to happen fa. 

JUDGE GIWA FALADE

…Long ago, the beautiful village of Araromi lived together in relative peace and harmony…

…Then, everything changed when the Kurukuru invaders took them away unknowingly.

I’ll do you one better. 

Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony. Then, everything changed when the fire nation attacked. 

Where is the Avatar? 😒

Also, why did you just copy and paste the role play thing? Was that what you were asked to do? You know, there is a beauty in asking questions, Homa. If you didn’t understand what the stage was about, you should have asked questions. If you still weren’t satisfied after asking questions, you should have asked more questions, or better still, ask your fellow contestants to break it down for you!

The role play thing is part of this stage titled “The Dungeon”. We didn’t ask you to write stories about disappearing children or fucking invaders! We asked you to write stories that will save the disappearing children in this village so that you won’t end up in “The Dungeon” AKA Red Line, and then be eaten by wolves AKA Evicted! 

In simple terms, all we needed you to do was write a good story that gives the nostalgia vibes and is relatable to our childhood days. 

If you didn’t understand this, why didn’t you ask? 

Leave this place, my friend!

COMMENTARY: I feel like we should all intercede on behalf of the contestants in this stage. Because it obvious this stage was premium shege.

And how do we do that?

We are giving the cribbers the opportunity to vote for their favourite contestant, who they want to remain in the competition.

It like you people are not happy o😑

DRUMROLLS please🥁

That means the judges don't really have a say, but you cribbers do!

Save your favourite contestants or watch them leave the project pen house.

Don't say I didn't warn you🥱

See you when we see you🤭

CIAO