Hello people of God😉

You are welcome to the fourth batch of the Judges review.
In this batch we will be having the following contestants;

015 WENDY BLACK
016 SUMMER WRITER
017 BILLIE
018 THEINKFAIRY

Now unto the first contestants;

015WENDY BLACK

I attended my parents’ wedding before I was born. 

I got confused too when I found out, but that was what the photograph seemed to say.

I had always had this feeling that the world was a strange place and that there were occurrences that even science couldn't explain, but it wasn't until I spotted a strange photo sitting pretty in my family album that I find out why.

Over the years, life got tougher and less colourful for my family. No one really knew why, but it happened like that anyway. I was having another moment in my room flipping through my family album, an old book covered in scratches and stains, its pages held together with duct tape. 

Each time I flipped through the book, looking through past family moments, I always ended up wearing sober smiles, rubbing my thumb over each memory photo because I missed the happy times my family shared.

Then, there it was, the strange photograph.

It was a faded photo of  my parents’ wedding that captured them beaming and waving at the crowd as they walked together, hand-inbound. And a few distances behind them, throwing flower petals in the air and skipping happily along was. . .me, their flower girl.

A shiver ran down my spine as I gazed at the photo. How could I be in the photo if I didn't exist? Why did I look the same age as I did now?

Taking the photo with me, I raced downstairs, asking my parents if they could see what I saw, but they both gave me the same reply.

“No.”

I looked back at the photo, sure enough I was still there. I looked at them in confusion, frustration and stormed back to my room.

Was I hallucinating?

Was I going mad?

I got to my room and just as I turned around, I jolted back in fear, exclaiming.

A little girl, dressed in grey clothing sat by my bed and watched me yell.

“Who are you?” I asked.

The little girl smirked, “That doesn’t matter.”

“You have a quest.” She said, walking towards me. I took a step back.

“You saw yourself in your parents’ wedding photo.” 

“How did you —”

“Your family is torn apart. You don’t live as happily as you use to. That isn't right.” She said, calmly, “That photo is out of context too.You know what I’m talking about.”

I creased my brows at her. She took my hand and placed a watch in it.

“The world is out of balance. Someone altered a timeline, and that's why your family nows lives in difficulty. That's why you're seeing things that shouldn't be.”

“And the person that caused all that is you.”

I blinked, my brows creased in confusion, “What?”

“You were a loose kid when you were younger. You stumbled on this very watch  and went on adventures everyday, jumping from timeline to timeline and causing mischief. But you know what they say, what goes around, comes around.”

“Why don't I remember any of that?”

The little girl giggled, “I wiped your memory, silly.”

I looked down at my hand, at the watch, “You're saying this is a time travelling device?”

The girl nodded, “Precisely.”

“It lets you understand its mechanism without having to say a word. It would make your quest easier.”

I wanted to disbelieve her, and her crazy, but my thought went back to that photo and that was when I knew she was on to something.

“To restore balance and order,” She began, “You must travel back to the three most memorable moments of your family's life and retrieve the following things: A wedding flower, a gift that was never bought, the happiest laughter you shared.”

“Why?” I asked, “In movies, people just travel back to the time they made the mistake and fix everything.”

She tsked, “Remember, everything lacks balance now. Going back to a timeline you've already visited would be challenging.”

“Oh, wouldn't collecting those things alter time again though?”

“As long as no one in your family sees you, everything should be fine.” She calmly replied.

She took out an hourglass from the back of her dress and dropped it gently on my table, the golden sand trickling down slowly.

“This is a Wákàtí hourglass. It represents the flow of Universal time. The hourglass will work in inverse, giving you a mere 60 minutes to complete your quest.”

“Geez.” I gasped.

“Remember, the clock is ticking. Complete your quest quickly, for when the last grains of sand drops, balance can no longer be restored, and your family would continue to face adversities.”

She faded away slowly with her words and I was left alone in my room, the sounds of falling sand filling the silence.

“Now or never.” I sighed deeply, shutting my eyes.

I travelled back to my parents’ wedding for the first item. There she was, my mum. All smiles in her white wedding dress, ready to throw the flower.

For a moment, I just paused and watched her, smiling, thinking about how I hadn’t seen her that happy in years. Then, I sighed and returned to my quest.

Careful not to be spotted by my Mum, I headed for the group of unmarried women that waited anxiously for the bouquet toss, leaping immediately the bouquet was thrown.

“I caught it!” I exclaimed and quickly headed for the next portal, the women fuming angrily behind me.

I jumped into the next timeline. There, I met my brother and I handing out a present to my parents for their wedding anniversary, a rather messy attempt of an anniversary card.

I hid behind a sofa and watched my brother and I stand before our parents, smiling shyly as my parents read through the greeting card.

It felt so heartwarming watching my parents accept it like it was the greatest thing they’d seen.

I frowned, my gaze dropping to the floor. We barely had family time like that anymore.

I sighed and headed for my parents’ room when I spotted my Mum walking back into the living room. 

I retrieved the card and jumped into the next portal, ready to retrieve the last. 

It led me to our family's backyard where my Dad used to tell my brother and I stories with my Mum. Occasionally, we would make jokes, laugh and playfully bicker.

A sad smile marred my lips as I watched. A horn-like cup appeared in my hands and I watched as streams of our laughter flew into it.

“Welldone.” 

The little girl appeared before me with a smile, taking the cup and the two other items from my hand.

“Time is a lot faster than you think.” She said, “You had but a minute left.”

I was suddenly back in my room. My eyes darted to the hour glass and I watched as the last speck of sand fell onto the bottom.

My eyes widened. 

Immediately, I picked up my parents’ wedding photo from the floor. I wasn't there anymore. 

“No way!” I said in relief.

I raced downstairs and gasped when I saw my parents and my brother raising cups and dancing to music. My Dad caught sight of me and waved me over.

I blinked, approaching them slowly, my lips slowly widening in a smile.

“What're we celebrating?”

My father smiled, “My job promotion.”

I gasped, hugging my Dad after. I couldn't stop smiling.

I felt my pocket just to be sure the watch was still there. I pinched myself. I wasn't dreaming, 

I squealed internally as I picked up a glass of juice. I didn't have to lung for happiness anymore. I felt so satisfied because I had gotten my family back.

COMMENTARY: Hmm, time travel. That's nice

JUDGES REVIEW

JUDGE NADIA SULAIMAN

I saw what you were trying to do… but something was off with the dispensation. First off, the problem with your work was character creation. The part where the little girl was on her bed and started the talk about time traveling… was just weird. And it was because you portrayed your character weakly. She was a stubborn girl? Let us know she found the picture after trying to steal something from her parents, to maybe use and show a school rival pepper. Or how she just got into a fight and was in a rush to jab cotton buds and spirit from her mum's first aid kit to conceal her crime. Or something. Anything. Make us know the kind of person we are dealing with. So when the talk of her being so troublesome that she messed up the timeline comes up, it doesn't sound foreign. 

It's a time travel story. Make it clear. Maybe she had a constant sense of dejavu? Even when she looks at the picture? When she walks around the house? Maybe she even knows that she would have somehow tripped over something as she ran back upstairs… and she avoids it? And maybe doesn't know how she even knows it was there before it came there? Or maybe, how — in case of the fight scenario — she had fought her nemesis more times in her head that she had in real life. Things that make it clear that there is something altered about her narration, her life, and of course, gives us that feeling that something is definitely off. 

That's what they call a build up, Wendy. 

And, you didn't nail it. 

JUDGE OLAITAN DAVIS

Can you please help me understand?

JUDGE NINA OGBEIDE

I have mixed feelings about your story. It’s a very brilliant attempt but maybe it’s the way you told the story or the pacing, something just doesn’t feel quite right for me. 

JUDGE UMAR HASAN

Honestly, I liked your story. It had me looking for more and to see the end of it all. But some things, which I'm sure the other judges will point out for you, we're still missing. 

JUDGE GIWA FALADE

From where to where? When did we enter sci-fi Abi it fantasy and started to time travel?

COMMENTARY: NEXT!

016 SUMMER WRITER

It rained for hours and the power was out. Coco sat on the edge of the couch, looking through the foggy window. She blew air onto the window pane and wiped it dry with her sleeve in an attempt to make it see-through, but they continually got fogged by the cold air and she had to wipe them constantly which became a chore.

Everyone else was engaged in something: her father was reading a newspaper, her mother was busy in the kitchen, and her elder sister wouldn't stop looking at her phone screen. 

"It's been raining for three hours!" She said, letting out a groan. Unfortunately, counting raindrops was hard and not a fun thing to do. She got bored with every raindrop that hit the ground outside.

"It's only been thirty minutes." Her sister, Tori said without taking her eyes off her phone.

Coco looked outside and looked back at her sister again.

"Well, it feels like a year. I want to go outside and play with the flowers."

Mrs. Johnson walked into the living room with a tray of cups filled with tea and a plate of cookies. 

"You can't go out in the rain, dear. Find something else to do. You can read one of your storybooks." She said and set the tray on the table.

"But I've read them all, ma." Coco whined and her mother raised a brow, knowing her twelve-year-old daughter hadn't read all six story books she bought two days ago.

"Do you want to read the news with me, sweetheart?" Her father asked and you could tell her answer from her facial expression. He laughed and she smiled politely.

"Tori, you've been looking at that phone all day. You better drop it and do something productive before I seize it." Mrs Johnson said with a frown. Tori dropped her phone on the table and folded her arms in anger.

The living room became quiet and only the soft pitter-patter of the rain was heard. Everyone took a cup of hot tea and munched on some cookies.

Coco returned to her spot at the edge of the couch and continued looking out the window while sipping out of her cup of tea.

She frowned at the state of the garden and held her nose when she inhaled the scent of wet earth that filled the air. Her mouth dropped in shock at the sight of the different sizes of puddles on the street. Unlike most children who enjoyed running through muddy puddles and getting wet, Coco hated getting her shoes dirty. She loved a bright and sunny day and just the thought of it made her nostalgic.

It was just yesterday when she was playing with her Barbie doll outside. The sun shone brightly in the brilliant blue sky. She saw trees of green and flowers bloom. 

Coco smiled at the memory and unconsciously sniffed the air; the smell of wet earth was replaced by the sweet fragrance of flowers. She closed her eyes, remembering the way the soft wind that rustled trees fanned her face and blew through her Barbie doll's fake hair. 

Suddenly, there was a loud clap of thunder that snapped Coco back to reality. She was still sitting at the edge of the couch with a cup of tea in her hand. She looked outside and unfortunately, it was still raining.

"I hate rainy days." She mumbled.

"Why do you say that, dear?" Her mother asked.

"The garden is wet, the sky is dark, and," she paused and folded her arms, "I left my doll outside."

Her father and mother laughed.

"I know how much you love a sunny day and the garden, but have you ever asked how the flowers in the garden always stay fresh and beautiful?" Her mother asked.

"It's because of the sun." Coco answered with confidence.

"You're right, dear." Her father said. "But do you know that flowers love the rain too?"

"The sun and rain help grow your flowers and keep them beautiful." Her mother concluded.

Coco was amazed at what her parents told her. She looked out the window again and watched the rain reduce to a drizzle. She could count most of the raindrops that fell to the ground.

"Guess what, dear." Her mother said and Coco turned to face her.

"Good children who appreciate the rain are lucky to see a rainbow when it stops." 

Coco's eyes widened. She had never seen a rainbow before.

Mrs. Johnson pointed out the window and Coco turned to see that it had stopped raining. She immediately jumped off the couch, dropped her cup on the table, and ran outside. 

The ground was wet but the sun was shining. Coco ran to the flowerbed; the flowers weren't destroyed. Instead, they were more colorful than before the rain.

A raindrop fell on Coco's head. It was the last drop of rain and she looked up to see a beautiful multi-coloured arc in the sky.

COMMENTARY: Judges over to you.

JUDGES REVIEW

JUDGE NADIA SULAIMAN

I smiled reading this. Simple. Cute. Innocent. Love it. You nailed this, Summer Writer. I just see you going so far in this competition. 

JUDGE OLAITAN DAVIS

Sadly, your work wasn't interesting. I got tired of reading along the way, but I just had to continue and finish it.

JUDGE NINA OGBEIDE

At this point, it’s clear you guys don’t even understand the theme you were asked to write on. 

JUDGE UMAR HASAN

I like rainbows, too, aunty Summer, but I don't think your story did justice to the theme. Even though it was sweet.

JUDGE GIWA FALADE

Okay?

COMMENTARY: I think we have to start buying chilled Zobo for our Judges to calm their nerves. Next!

017 BILLIE

Title:                  ‘‘THE ECHOES OF CHILDHOOD’ 

In the heart of Kaduna, nestled between rolling hills and a winding river, lay a village named Gidan-Kuka. Unlike any other in the region, it was a place where stories were born, where the past danced with the present, and where elders' memories were passed down like precious heirlooms. Gidan-Kuka was a village filled with laughter and music, where children's joy echoed through the streets, and their innocence was the most cherished treasure of all.

But one day, the laughter stopped. One by one, the children of Gidan-Kuka began to disappear. At first, it was a girl, trailing behind her siblings as they rushed to the village center to listen to the popular tales by moonlight. Her sister reported only a whisper of her before she was gone. Then another—a boy whose father had told him to go back and put on his slippers before accompanying him on an evening stroll. The boy dashed in to do as he was asked while his mother snuck off, thinking he would settle her child upon her return with sweets or a hug. But little Musa was no more, gone within the twinkle of an eye, leaving behind only one leg of his little raffia slipper. Soon, the streets were eerily silent, and a heavy sorrow settled over Gidan-Kuka like a dark cloud.

The elders, known as the Cribbers, were at a loss. These wise men and women had always been the protectors of the village, the keepers of its stories and traditions. But now, they felt powerless in the face of this inexplicable tragedy. The once-vibrant village was now a place of mourning, and the colorful murals that adorned the walls of the homes seemed to fade, as if the very essence of Gidan-Kuka was being drained away.

In the midst of this sorrow, a group of strangers arrived in the village. These travelers, known as the Invaders, had come from far and wide, each with their own tales to tell. But the villagers, blinded by grief, suspected the Invaders of causing the disappearance of their children. The anger in their hearts demanded retribution.

“Throw them into the gidan yari!” cried one of the villagers, his voice trembling with rage. “They are the reason our children are gone!”

The Cribbers, though stricken with grief, knew better than to act out of anger. They consulted with the Government, the wise leaders of Gidan-Kuka, who decreed that the Invaders should be given a chance to prove their innocence.

“Let them tell their stories,” the Government leader said. “If their words are true and pure, perhaps they will bring our children back.”

And so, the Invaders were tasked with a challenge: to tell stories that could heal the village’s broken heart and bring back the missing children. The Night of the Blood Moon was fast approaching—a night when the village believed the spirit world was closest to the earth—and the villagers held onto a fragile hope that the Invaders’ stories could bridge the gap between their world and the one where their children were lost.

Among the Invaders was a young woman named Sauda. She had traveled to Gidan-Kuka from the city, seeking the peace and wisdom of village life. But now, she found herself in a situation she could never have imagined. The weight of the villagers’ sorrow hung heavy on her, and she knew that her story had to come from a place deep within her soul.

As the sun began to set on the eve of the Blood Moon, Sauda sat by the old baobab tree at the edge of the village. The tree was ancient, its roots deep in the earth, and it had seen many generations come and go. Sauda closed her eyes and let the memories of her own childhood in Kaduna flood her mind—the stories her grandmother used to tell her by the fire, the sound of her siblings’ laughter as they played in the courtyard, the warmth of her father’s voice as he recounted tales of courage and hope.

With a heart full of nostalgia, Sauda began her story:

“This is the story of the Lantern of Memories,” she said, her voice steady and calm. “Once, in a village much like Gidan-Kuka, there lived a wise old woman named Amina. Amina was known throughout the region for her beautiful lanterns, which glowed with a warm, golden light that could chase away even the darkest night. But these were no ordinary lanterns. Each one was made from a memory—a precious moment from the past, captured and held within the lantern’s glass.

Amina would wander the village, gathering memories from the elders and the young alike. She would visit the storyteller who remembered tales from when the village was young, the farmer who recalled the joy of his first harvest, and the mother who cherished the memory of her child’s first steps. Each memory was a story, and each story was a light in the darkness.

One day, the village was struck by a great sorrow. The children, who had filled the village with their laughter and play, began to disappear. The villagers searched everywhere, but the children were nowhere to be found. The once-bright village grew dim and cold, as if the very light of life had been snuffed out.

Amina, though old and weary, knew that she had to do something. She took the memories she had gathered—the stories of love, joy, and life—and placed them into her lanterns. On the night of the Blood Moon, when the village was at its darkest, Amina lit her lanterns and set them afloat on the river that flowed through the village.

As the lanterns drifted downstream, their light spread across the water, illuminating the darkness. And with that light came the memories—of times when the village was full of life and laughter, of stories shared around the fire, and of the bonds that held the villagers together. The memories awakened something deep within the hearts of the villagers—a longing not just for the children they had lost, but for the joy and love they had once known.

And then, as if drawn by the light, the children began to return. They had not been taken by a curse or a shadow, but had simply lost their way in the darkness that had fallen over the village. The light of the memories guided them back, one by one, until the village was once again filled with the sound of their laughter.

Amina, her task complete, smiled as she watched the children return. She knew that the village would be whole again, not because of the lanterns, but because the villagers had remembered the power of their stories—the power to bring light into the darkest of times.”

As Sauda finished her story, the villagers who had gathered around her were silent, their hearts touched by the tale. Then, slowly, the air around them began to change. The dull gray that had settled over Gidan-Kuka started to lift, and a soft, warm light began to spread through the village.

And then, from the shadows, the children began to appear. They came not from the forest, but from the dark corners of the village, where they had been hiding, lost and afraid. The villagers rushed to embrace their children, tears of joy streaming down their faces.

The Cribbers, the Government, and the villagers all realized that the darkness had come from within their own hearts, born of grief and fear. But now, thanks to Sauda story, the light of memories had brought their children home.

The Government, moved by the power of the tale, declared the Invaders innocent. The villagers, filled with gratitude, welcomed them as part of their community. The Night of the Blood Moon passed peacefully, as the village of Gidan-Kuka returned to its former glory, its streets once again filled with the laughter of children and the warmth of memories.

And so, the village learned a valuable lesson: that in the stories we tell and the memories we cherish, we find the strength to overcome even the darkest of times.

COMMENTARY: Okayy, the judges desperately have something to say.

JUDGES REVIEW

JUDGE NADIA SULAIMAN

Billie, I think you're desperate to leave this competition. 

Because, why?

You didn't pay attention to Instructions. The instruction was *do not retell the story*, but instead *save the children by telling a story*. And you completely neglected that. It's well.  

JUDGE OLAITAN DAVIS

The theme you were given is nostalgia. Tell me Billie, what is nostalgic here? What you did was rewrite what was given to you in the document about this stage. Childhood nostalgia. There was nothing childhood nostalgic at all.

JUDGE NINA OGBEIDE

This story is a miss for me.

JUDGE UMAR HASAN

Ya Yesu, save me. 

JUDGE GIWA FALADE

Oh Lord!

If I start now, they will say Giwa Falade has come again. Giwa Falade is acting like a high school mean girl. But you, Billie, look at what you did and tell me if it’s fair. 

Is it fair? Was this what was asked of you? 

You just copied and pasted the role play that’s supposed to have absolutely nothing to do with the story you are writing. 

Who asked you to write about disappearing children? What about this story brings childhood memories or nostalgia? 

If you didn’t understand what the stage entailed, why didn’t you ask questions? Moderators are there, your fellow contestants are there? Why naw! 

I swear, if we meet in person, just run away because I fit break your head. 

COMMENTARY: The pressure is getting wesser.
Onto the last contestants for this stage please.

018THEINKFAIRY

“When I grow up, I’m going to be a superhero.”

“Don’t be delusional, Kara,” said Hannah, nose buried in her book. “Superheroes aren’t real.” 

“Sure they are!” Kara replies excitedly. “Also what does delu…delu—“

“Delusional. It means believing in something that isn’t true.” Hannah explains then points to her book “I read about it in here.”

“Whatever.” Kara shrugs. She never really liked Hannah for her tendency to know about everything and anything. It made her feel dumb. “Anyways, we are talking about how I’m going to be a superhero like Wonder Woman.”  Kara begins to shoot some kicks in the air, practicing out the moves she’d seen from her favorite action movie characters.

“What’s going to be your superhero name then?” asks Khalid in that droopy voice of his, sitting close to Hannah and wiping snot from his nose. His mother had given him a scolding earlier and he’d cried for hours non-stop. It was only when Kara had given him the shortbread her dad bought for her that he finally stopped.

Kara smiled at the question. “I’ve already thought about it. It’s going to be Wonder Girl!” 

“Wow, creative.” Hannah says rolling her eyes. Kara didn’t understand what she meant by that. 

“Just imagine, me with my flying red cape and magical rope saving people from evil villains.” Her mind began to play scenarios of her flying through the skies, delivering a drop kick to villain and saving the day, people crowding her, singing her praises. The simple idea filled her with so much adrenaline she couldn’t help but squeal in delight. 

“But you know Kara, you can also be a superhero without needing a cape,” says Khalid, cutting her out of her daydream. 

She looked at him, placing her hands on her hips. “And how?” 

“See my dad for example, he’s a doctor. He saves lives.” Khalid’s eyes seemed distant as he spoke, the shadow of a smile appearing on his face. “That is so cool. I want to be like him when I grow up. He is my hero.” 

Kara gazed at him skeptically. She did admire Mr Tosin for what he did. But what was much cooler than being dressed in a cape and whooshing through the skies?! 

“Well, when I grow up I’m going to be a ballerina,” declared Hannah, snapping her book shut. Then she stands and begins spinning and twisting around the room, nearly falling on the array of Kara’s toys scattered across the floor. She looked funny doing that.

“See? I’m great at it aren’t I?” she stops twirling and gives a dramatic bow, looking out of breath. 

“No, you’re bad at it. Who lied to you?” jokes Khalid.

“Hey! You’re just jealous because you don’t know how to dance like I do.” 

“Was that dancing? Sorry I thought it was a chicken just running aroun—”

Before Khalid could finish his sentence, Hannah attacks him, hitting her hand vigorously across his head. Kara rolls over the floor in laughter, pressing her hand against her stomach and trying to hold the pee about to rush out of her. Khalid laughs too, although he begs Hannah to stop.

“Somebody save me! Save me from this monster!” 

Kara takes the initiative and stands up quickly. Then she does a super hero pose, pumping her fists into the air. “Wonder Girl to the rescue! Swoosh!” 

“Wonder Girl, please rescue me. That monster is going to eat me alive!” 

“You, monster!” Kara points at Hannah. “Leave that innocent boy alone.” 

“He called me a chicken!” exclaims Hannah, her voice going a bit lower to imitate a monsters tone. “He is going to pay!” 

“Well then, have a taste of my fist. Wonder Girl Meteor Punch!” Kara lands a soft punch on Hannah’s side, and the three friends laugh together, holding each other close. This, and many more, would always be a part of Kara’s most precious memories and even though, yes, she did not get to be a superhero but ended up working an excruciating job as a journalist, and Hannah, ended up being a writer and not a ballerina with only Khalid being the one who fulfilled his dream, those moments, with them just being little, naïve kids who could do nothing but dream, we’re the most beautiful ones in Kara’s life.

COMMENTARY: We don't always get to fulfill what we daydream, right?. But Delulu is still the Solulu😗.

JUDGES REVIEW

JUDGE NADIA SULAIMAN

Well, this wasn't bad. I'll give it to you. I liked the concept of superheroes in it, especially since it was a big part of childhood. That part where being a doctor was being similarly compared to being a superhero made me smile. You had an opportunity to use that trope and create something beautiful with it… but unfortunately, you didn't quite nail it.

I'll explain. 

The Superhero/Doctor part. You see, the idea of showing how excited kids could be about a profession like that and innocently, linking it to a thing of wonder — when in reality, medicine is one profession that stresses the life out of a person, both in studying and being it — is beautiful. I wish you carried your story on this trope, from start to finish. It could have had a clearer direction and a more solid sense of nostalgia. Showing us how naive kids are, how naive we used to be. That's what would have been so adorable. Kids, seeing the beauty in these things that adults complain about, because they lack the experience and understanding of how tasky it is and it makes them see the bright side of it. I wish you used this trope this way; imagine a kid excited to be an adult, simulating on the phone, talking to imaginary visitors, and raising imaginary children. These are things we, as adults, feel drained and burnt out from. But they — the kids — fantasize. Innocent, naive, but adorable fantasies. That's what being a kid is. You tried to take this route, but you missed it. That's where I have the issue with this work. The ending, especially, was really unnecessary. And the goal of this story was to save children… connecting this to our roleplay, you can't even save the missing children by showing them how adulthood quashes the dreams and innocent fantasies they have. You get? See where you messed it up?

All in all, your work was alright. You wrote well to an extent. In a technical sense, at least. However, learn to be more clever with themes. Be intentional too. Have a goal with your story, work towards achieving that goal through your story l and let your goal ( the idea or the lesson you want to pass across) connect with the theme overall. 

JUDGE OLAITAN DAVIS

This is really good. 

Good job, Inkfairy.

JUDGE NINA OGBEIDE

Please pay more attentions to your use of punctuation. Also, did you write your story in the past or present tense? One minute, I’m seeing present tenses and the next, I’m seeing past tenses. And frankly, I don’t know what to make or think of your story. 

JUDGE UMAR HASAN

You wrote a really sweet story, ya daodi. Took me back to times when I was a kid and also dreamed I could be a superhero. Lol. I think you nailed it. I noticed a couple of errors, though. Tense inconsistency and dialogue punctuation error. But other than that, I like how you ended the story. It's safe to say you have really improved. I'm impressed. Keep it up. 

JUDGE GIWA FALADE

You actually really tried for me, Ink Fairy, majorly because I could relate to your story personally. When I was in secondary school, my friends and I will do this role play of heroes on Cartoon Network and I was Atomic Betty (Iykyk😂). 

So yeah, your story was actually pretty nostalgic for me. I appreciate you✨.

COMMENTARY: This is the end of the judges review for today, guys. Anticipate the last batch tomorrow

CIAO😗