Hey cribbers, welcome to a one of a kind review🤭in Project Pen. This stage,the Pen masters will be  reviewing each other's work.The Pen Masters in this batch are;

001 PenReaper and 005 Trafalgar

003 Lioness and 019 The Ascendant

016 Summerwriter and 010 Seth

Let's begin✨

PEN MASTER 001 PENREAPER

If you look beyond the clouds, past the storms and angry thunderbolts, just a few meters past the heavens is a gate. A gate that separates our realm from theirs. A gate to The City of The Immortals.

A small figure sits patiently on the brown sofa in Eziuche's (Wisdom's) office, her phalanges tapping gently on her knee. Her white dress rustles against the leather sofa, breaking the peaceful humming noise that fills the room. Her name is Iku (Death).

The intricate carvings on the cream-coloured walls and the shimmering black floor patterns create a calming atmosphere, but Iku's frustration simmers beneath the surface.

"Where is she?" Iku mumbles to herself, biting the nails on her fleshy finger. The gentle tapping of her footbones against the cool marble floor fills the room.

Eziuche, her older sister, walks into the room, adjusting her glasses and taking a seat behind the well-carved timber table in front of Iku. Her silver eyes sparkle as she signs, her hands weaving a gentle melody. "Welcome, Iku. What bothers you today?" Brows lowered as she expects an answer.

The room now smells of rich vanilla, a smell Iku has grown to associate with her older sister's presence. Iku looks up at her sister, her eyes stopping at Eziuche's bald head. Eziuche had never told anyone why she had shaved her hair; she just showed up bald one day and no one had bothered enough to ask why.

"Wonderful to see you too, Eziuche." Iku rolls her eyes, her fingers completing the sign.

Eziuche ignores her sister's sarcasm, starting their session. "So, what would you like to talk about today?" Eziuche signs, her well-manicured clear nails a complementary feature to her glossy, dark skin as she flattens a fresh page of her notebook to begin writing.

Iku sighs, rubbing her phalanges across the smooth leather. "Most people find me intimidating, like the old man last week who tried to jump back into his body when he saw me. Honestly, humans are the weirdest species I've had to deal with," Iku vocalizes as her hands narrate the details of her story to her sister and she lets out a deep sigh, and rubbing her forehead in frustration.

"Is this the first time this is happening?" Eziuche's clicking and vocalizations fill the office as she, scribbles something down in her notebook.

"It isn't the first time it has happened, but then I am getting tired of it, and that is why I'm here, Eziuche! I want it to stop!" Iku signs, standing up in frustration; pacing to and fro in front of the sofa and pulling at her white dreadlocks.

"You only gave one instance, care to lay down some more examples?" Eziuche raises a brow at her younger sister, lowering her glasses to the bridge of her nose, ignoring Iku's 'death glare'.

"Breathe in, breathe out," Iku mumbles to herself, trying to calm the rage building inside of her.

"A few days ago, a lady called me Ajoku (The entity responsible for accidents and misfortune). I tried to tell her that I wasn't our brother, but she kept shedding tears, calling me a demon for stripping her from her newborn child," Iku signs her eyes glossy from the tears that have started to form.

"Humans are fragile; you disrupt their lives for the greater good, and they hate you forever; just ask Jekiri (War) and Obaluaye (Disease)." Eziuche's fingers communicate her point, dusting her red Ankara jacket.

"I picked up a man a few hours back; he had killed himself and he blamed me! Suddenly, I was the bad person for completing his life cycle," Iku signs rapidly, wiping the tears from her eyes, her anger now overpowering the sadness she felt.

Eziuche's expression turns sympathetic. "I know your role is... difficult, Iku. You're the youngest, but your presence is the most crucial. You must fulfil your duty, just as Kombo (Day) and Yemere (Night) do." Eziuche scribbles more notes into her leather book.

Iku's hands drop, and she speaks through their telepathic link. "Easy for you to say, Eziuche! Mortals do not flee at the mere mention of your name! They do not call you disgusting names when you are brought up in their petty discussions!" Iku's voice rings in Eziuche's head.

Eziuche watches as anger overcomes her sister. She watches as Iku begins to float in the air and the flowers in her office begin to wither and die.

"They cower in my presence, I am met with nothing but fear and sadness! Even our brothers and sisters all whisper behind my back, afraid of what would befall them if I catch wind of their gossip!" Iku bellows through the telepathic link.

Iku's white locks and dress are being blown by a growing breeze and her golden irises flash in anger. The air around her is thick, deprived of life, and the gentle screams of lost souls fill the office.

"My presence chills their bones and they only greet me with tears and long 'god forbids'! I am just a child, Eziuche!" Iku screams through their telepathic link, shattering the windows in her sister's office.

Eziuche rises from her seat, walking over to her floating sister. She tries to speak to Iku through their link but anger has overtaken her sister.

Eziuche rolls her eyes. "Children," and in one swift move, she slaps Iku hard across the cheek. "Control yourself!" She speaks through their telepathic link, her voice vibrating in Iku's head, and Iku obeys almost immediately.

Tugging at the jacket of her pantsuit, a well-composed Eziuche limps back to her seat, slumping into the chair. Her chest rises and falls slowly. Silver hair begins to grow from her bald head.

"You've used too much energy," Iku signs, chuckling gently as she gathers her composure. "You look better with your hair." She signs again, shrugging.

Eziuche sends her sister death glares and with a snap of her fingers, the thick silver locks on her head disappear.

"Mama and Papa can be cruel. They made you intimidating and stuck you into the body of a twelve-year-old forever." Eziuche signs weakly, her energy slowly returning to her.

"But what you do with that power is up to you. The power you carry is intense, and so is your burden, but it does not define you. Look through the fear you instil, own it and become Iku!" Eziuche points a well-manicured finger at her sister.

____________♠♠♠♠♠♠___________

Most people find me intimidating, and they are right, too. For what is more frightening than death? What is more destructive and wholesome than death? In my wake, empires rise and fall. I consume life whole and within me, life begins anew. Kings can not command me, neither can their warriors stand my prowess. I am the completion of a cycle, the beginning of an era. Ile-Aye (The Earth), my mother, gifted me eternal youth; Ókóló (The Sky), my father, made me ruthless. My name is Iku and I am Death.

PEN MASTER 005 TRAFALGAR

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far

I rubbed my chafed wrists tenderly, my eyes drooping lazily as I stared at my face in the cracked mirror above the sink, ignoring the redundant vandalism-most of them polemics about the "Zero Tolerance To Bullying" the school had been pushing. The eyebags were becoming noticeable.

Deciding no one else was going to see me like this, I walked to the bathroom door and slid the lock-in. I stood in front of the mirror, my right leg on the sink, I hiked my skirt up to reveal a small gash on my thigh, a little above my knee from where the barbed wire had caught me. I was an hour late to school and after being punished twice already this week for that same grievance, I was certain I'd get suspended if I was caught a third time, so I opted to use the back fence, complete with a makeshift ladder on the outside where the fence was higher and a small section where the barbed wire was breached.

Ironically, that area was directly behind the Guidance and Counsel office. And in my grandiose stealth plans, of course, I hadn't planned for her to be around on a Moral Thursday morning of all days. My luck was just bad enough to make me carelessly hurt myself in my haste to hide but generous enough that she hadn't seen me.

The wound had bled a little onto my skirt, which in my first stroke of luck in weeks, was a dark shade of red so luckily no one would notice the stain. I grabbed a roll of tissue and some hand sanitizer from my bag. I poured a little sanitizer on the tissue and, steeling myself, poured a little on the wound. The pain was instant and I gripped the tap so tight my knuckles hurt. After the pain subsided, I pressed the tissue to the wound until the bleeding stopped.

I was about to toss the bloody tissue into the toilet when I noticed blood streaks higher above my thigh. I tore out a new piece of tissue and added a little more sanitizer and scrubbed them till they were completely gone.

I flushed the tissues, watching them swirl around until they disappeared. I splashed cold water on my face and began my masking. Too much lip gloss to hide my bruised lips, concealer for my eyebags and a sweater despite the hot Harmattan afternoons to hide my wrists.

I examined my face in the mirror and like the magician I was, I'd made the patheticness disappear. Chinaza Molokwu, stared back at me, complete with cold, dead eyes. I felt the tears well up, threatening my concealer, so I dabbed them away with a hanky.

Suddenly, there was a burst of loud raps on the bathroom door, followed by giggling. One of the girls called out to me.

"Whoever is in there do fast and open this door abeg."

Grabbing my bag, I arranged my skirt and walked to the door. Unlocking it, I swung it open dramatically, a scowl on my face. There were three girls, all slightly taller than I was but a grade below mine. Watching the humor drain from their expressions was a sight I just couldn't get enough of.

"Who said that?"

The prettiest one among them replied. "I-I didn't know it was you. I'm sorry."

The other two girls bowed their heads, eyes fixed anywhere else but in my general direction.

Tugging at the pretty one's shirt, I whispered to her. "Be very careful next time."

I trudged on to my homeroom. Sade and Chinonye saw me and ran up to embrace me. I forced a smile, careful to keep my right leg away from them. The wound still stung like hell.

"We thought you wouldn't come to school sef," Sade said airily, tugging gently at my hair. "Emeka said he didn't know if you were coming because you didn't tell him, he's been dull all morning."

They both laughed a shrill cackle that I knew the entire school made fun of, only behind our backs because no one dared cross us.

"Well, where is he?" I asked.

"He went to get pencils, we're to have Physics practicals soon." Chinonye replied as they both walked with me to my seat." Why are you limping?"

Sade snarled at Chinonye before I could ignore her. "She jumped down the fence Auntie, that's why she didn't get punished for coming late."

The rest of the day zipped by before I could even notice it. The bell rang and everyone was packing to go home.

Fifteen minutes later the class was almost empty, and we could hear the teachers chaperoning the remaining students out of their classes. They'd soon be in ours. Me and Emeka sat together. I spaced out, noticing his breath rhythm matched mine. I was only snapped out when he held my hands in his. Suddenly I felt like crying.

"I heard you shunned some girls in the bathroom today," he said, still looking into space.

"Yeah. It was too easy not to. Most people find me intimidating anyway. How'd you hear about that?"

"Heard it when I was buying pencils for Physics. They were outside the bookshop so they didn't know I was listening."

I made a mental note to confront them later.

"That's all?" I ask.

He tried to say something then hesitated.

"What else?" I ask again.

"They said they saw some bloodstains on the floor."

Fuck. I'd forgotten to wipe the floor.

We stayed quiet till the class was empty. Finally, sure no one was within earshot of us, he asked.

"Again?"

And suddenly I began to cry, my shoulders heaved against his arms which had wrapped around me as he cursed under his breath.

"Please don't cry. I'll call Child Protection Services today. This has gone on for way too long."

"Don't c-call the-"

He recoiled away from me like I'd suddenly turned a couple of thousand degrees hotter. His face distorted into a simmering mask of rage. He eyed me, trying to control his temper.

"Why do you always do this? It's getting worse Chinaza, you shouldn't have been quiet the FIRST time it happened. Is there something else you aren't telling me?"

"I can't, have you seen how bad Lagos prisons are? I can't let them lock him up in there with those people."

"So you'd rather this continues than they go to prison. Why do I even bother? You know what? You do you, I'm not having this conversation with you again."

"Emeka, please jus-"

He grabbed his bag not even bothering to hear a single word I had to say and stormed off.

I sat quietly for a minute or two before the teachers finally got to the class. I lied that I was having period cramps and that warded any questions they had. One of the female ones even offered to drive me home herself but I declined.

My house was a few blocks away, one of the many reasons why Principal Adeboye didn't understand why I was usually late. Truth was there wasn't a good enough reason. I shuffled as slowly as I could but it didn't matter, I was home earlier than I wanted to be.

Waiting for me were my father, mother, elder brother, and a couple of uniformed men.

Emeka had called Child Protection Services anyway.

Keeping the emotion from my face, which isn't hard-I don't think I have tears to cry anymore, I sauntered on towards them.

My father was arguing loudly while my mother was crying and begging. "How incompetent can the lot of you be? Embarrassing me in front of my house? That my son is assault-" he pauses, regaining his breath "Assaulting my daughter? You'd better take those handcuffs off him before I show you how inconsiderate I can be."

One of the people in uniform, a woman, turned calmly to me and asked.

"You're Chinaza right?"

I nodded slowly.

"We're from Child Protection Services. We were called by one Emeka Odinma. Do you know him?"

I nodded again.

"We'd like to ask you some questions if you'd follow us."

Before I could answer my father snarled at them.

"She will not be following you anywhere. So you perverts will start touching her inappropriately in the name of an investigation abi? Nobody has laid a hand on my daughter so stop this charade."

My father was a lawyer. One of the best in the state. Perhaps that's why he lied so effortlessly. I almost believed he hadn't snuck into my room yesterday, with a black television wire and a condom. That he hadn't ravaged my body yesterday, while my brother watched, waiting his turn, while I stayed quiet, afraid my mother would hear. That they hadn't been doing so since I was fourteen.

It made me sick to my stomach. I clenched my fists so hard, I could feel my fingernails beginning to tear into my palms. How dare he? Did he feel no remorse for the sort of human garbage he was? I decided there and then.

One thing I WAS sure of, was that he was my father, the way I lied as easily as I breathed.

"It was a prank call, nobody touched me and I won't be going anywhere with any of you. Now please leave my house." I watched the confusion register on her face but I didn't care, I'd made up my mind. Prison was too good for them.

PEN MASTER'S REVIEW

REVIEW FOR PEN MASTER 001 THE PENREAPER BY PEN MASTER 005 TRAFALGAR

Where to begin...
I liked the concept sha, I'm a big fan of mythology and I can just tell from the writing that you are too. The punctuation is stellar and the writing style is good.

However, I do not like your main character. She seems like a whiny little girl, and considering she's been doing this job she so vocally hates for years, it doesn't make sense that she's going for therapy now after all that time. And I'd expect a god that has lived for thousands of years to have, literally, overgrown the whining for something she absolutely can't change.

And the dialogue, it felt like I was being given a rundown of the other gods. It didn't feel natural. The dialogue felt like it was sort of imposing characters we know nothing about on us.

REVIEW FOR PEN MASTER 005 TRAFALGAR BY PEN MASTER 001 THE PENREAPER

Blows dust off my judging hat and puts it on my judging head.

Trafalgar, Trafalgar, Trafalgar, I love it when the competition is predictable and deadly. It makes me all giddy and happy; especially when I rip them to shreds and watch the light fade from their eyes. I was expecting boss-level writing, and you, my man, might be in the ranking.

Let me review what I was asked to review before somebody disqualifies me. Eyes Judge Giwa.

Permit me to shower you with praises. Your story was captivating as well as immersive, and can I say how amazing that is? I find it hard to read anything because I need to be pulled in from the start, and there is not a lot of stuff that does that, but I enjoyed this story.

The way the description and details flowed. It was like walking through a peaceful meadow hand in hand with Hailey Bailey. Anyway, the flow of your story was nice, I could relate to Chinaza and her struggles. Men are scum. They would always stain your white.

The plot twist you added to your story was a head-turner because what do you mean both her father and brother molest her? I want to kill them very slowly and hug Chinaza as we watch them suffer and die.

Her boyfriend, Emeka, is so cute! He did the needful by calling child services even though Chinaza poured sand in his garri. The title? Very clever work! Chinaza is an experienced liar like her father! And obviously, she is that way because of the abuse and trauma she has been through. She is a product of the environment and experiences she has been through. I like it.

In regards to the prompt, you did it some justice. We saw how Chinaza intimidates other students and you told us she is aware of this fact. I would say it was well felt through your story and it gives Chinaza more character development. We see this tough girl who strikes fear into everyone become this child who is scared and abused; it was quite touching. There's more to Chinaza's "mean girl" persona; she has real people's problems and real people's emotions and reactions and responses to these problems.

You've explored the evil of abuse, how anyone can be a victim, how anyone can be an abuser, and that it isn't always easy to speak up about it.

Your characters are okay, Chinaza, her group of friends and everyone. Overall, I like your story.

Now, for the other part of this review.

The characters you introduced as Chinaza's friends felt so flat! It was like you shoved them in at the last minute just to complete the whole "Regina George" vibe Chinaza was giving.

If they were just mentioned and left at that, it wouldn't have felt so off but then they were an "important" part of the story, and our baby girl, Chinaza.

Also, your story was so American until people started talking. Even after they started talking, I felt you forced the "Nigerianess" into the story.

Why did your story feel less Nigerian? Language. There's a way we talk and reason as a country, and yes, I know this is fiction and all, but I don't think that's an excuse to make it look like some White boy, Channing Tatum, who has some fancy for African people decided to write a story.

Try and inculcate our lingo and speech patterns to give it that authenticity. Instead of homeroom, try 'classroom', you feel me? It's all in the choice of words, not just the names and pidgin.

Anata wa ii saka desu.

Commentary: Hmm...

PEN MASTER 003 LIONESS

SATURDAY, 3RD OF AUGUST, 2024.
11:25 pm.

Making my way through the crowd of sweaty bodies, there's a permanent frown on my face as I jab the people in my way with my elbow. I've just gotten scammed-yes, you heard me right-and the painful part is that there's nothing I can do about it.

I finally make my way outside and lean by the fence, with one foot resting on the ground and the other propped against the wall I'm leaning against.

"Hey Rachel, what's good?" A very drunk voice yells, prompting me to lazily peek at him with one eye. He's tall and lanky, holding a red cup in his right hand as he staggers with each step. His friends try to pull him back but he just shrugs them off, advancing towards me.

I don't know if it's the fact that he knows my actual name that irks me, or the fact that he's definitely coming to talk me into going home with him. All I know is that I'm annoyed.

I close my eyes then, tutting internally. Anyway this goes, his stupid ego is going to take a big hit.

Another idiot to be taught a lesson; stupid typical Ilorin boy.

There's a reason I am nicknamed Thorns, and this drunk fool is about to find out.

SUNDAY, 4TH OF AUGUST, 2024.
11:27 am.

My boss's message greets me as soon as I open my WhatsApp. "Come and do account for me," he says.

My mood immediately plummets as memories of the previous night assaults me. Someone scammed me of 320k last night and now I have to account for it.

I don't know how to explain this to my boss, because he wouldn't care. All he cares about is the money being transferred into his account sharp sharp.

I continue staring at my phone, my thoughts jumbled, when another message comes in.

"..." He types this time around.

I begin typing a long explanation which I erase after deliberating on it. Instead, I decide to send a voice note explaining the situation to him. Hopefully, he'll hear the desperation in my voice and give me a week to try and gather the money.

When I'm done with the voice note of 4 minutes, I send it and cross my fingers. Watching the 'typing...' on the top of my screen being switched out with the 'online' status has never been more nerve-wracking.

"I understand your situation," he finally sends after five minutes.

I immediately breathe a sigh of relief and start typing my appreciation when I see the next text which says, "You have till the end of tomorrow to pay. After that, I'll have to arrest you. You were warned of the risks of the job before you started."

Now it's my turn to start typing and deleting, all the while cursing the man's cold heart. After so many attempts, I finally give up and leave him on 'read'.

I have greater things to worry about.

SUNDAY, 4TH OF AUGUST, 2024.
12:54 pm.

It's been more than an hour since my boss sent that heartless message and I still haven't gotten a clue on how to get the money.

I have successfully downloaded many loan apps: Fairmoney, Okash, Palmcredit, Branch, Easemoni-name it, I've downloaded it-and all the money I've been able to gather is just 25k. Add that to the 50k in my savings and I still have a lot to pay.

How the hell am I supposed to pay back the remaining 145k?

I'm currently sitting on the floor in a corner of my self con, hugging my knees as tears run down my face. Once again, I curse the heartless man I work for-alongside my bad luck.

If I had 320k stashed somewhere, would I work for him in the first place?

I curse the day I decided to become a money changer. I thought it'll turn my life around; well, it certainly did. I'm neck deep-no, scratch that; body deep-in debt with no solution in sight.

EFCC, please be kind to me.

SUNDAY, 5TH OF AUGUST, 2024.
10:32 pm.

I did it. After hours of contemplation, I finally found a way out of the hole I dug myself in.

So here's the genius plan: I have a friend called Richie who's a pimp.

What else are you waiting for? That's it. The solution to my problem.

In all my 5 years in Ilorin, I have never had sex with anyone and I have a shitload of admirers.

Richie is an influencer and if he pimps me out to the right guys, twenty four hours should be enough to make a difference.

Right now, I'm dressing up for the first order of the day. I'm currently bitter but what choice do I have? It's either this, or chilling with EFCC by this time tomorrow.

Guess which one sits better with me.

My phone rings as I'm applying the last layer of lip gloss to my lips and I pick up the call while checking myself out in the mirror.

"Hello Richie," I greet.

Winged eyeliner-check.

"Hey Thorns," he sounds enthusiastic, "You wouldn't believe what just happened."

Waterproof mascara-check.

"Then you better make it believable," I reply nonchalantly. There's definitely nothing enthusiastic about tonight.

"So, instead of posting you on my WhatsApp status-since I don't want to ruin your reputation-I decided to create a group, adding only my wealthy clients for an auction bid." He sounds so proud of himself and I sigh, getting ready to tell him that my reputation is ruined either way.

Sleek edges-check.

"Guess what?" He continues before I can talk.

Braids packed in two buns-check.

"What?" I drawl, tired of his enthusiastic spirit.

Transparent black gown-check.

"You're hot cake and we got someone who's willing to pay 300k for just one night with you," he finishes.

Thick overcoat-Wait, what?

All my attention snaps back to my phone. "Say God!!!"

"I'm serious, girl. I'm sending the address right now. I'm so sorry I couldn't help you with the money myself. I'm just really broke at the-"

"It's fine, Richie. This is great news. I'm done dressing up and I'll be on my way immediately."

After hanging up, I stare at my reflection in the mirror and she stares back at me with teary eyes.

Well, I guess it's a good thing I wore waterproof mascara.

I take a deep breath, steel my nerves and walk out of the house.

11:47 pm.

I'm finally here.

Now, imagine my surprise when the door opens and I come face to face with Drunk Guy. I recall how I embarrassed him yesterday, basically venting out my anger on him.

He smiles warmly at me but that isn't reassuring at all. I have two options now-act nervous and start apologizing for yesterday or just keep up the mean girl act.

I quickly school my expression, wiping the surprise off my face as I walk in.

"Hello Rachel, what would you like to drink?" He asks me, but I just roll my eyes.

"At least, you're not drunk today."

Rachel-1, Drunk Guy-0.

He laughs and rolls his eyes back at me, making me squint my eyes.

"There's something I don't understand. Most people find me intimidating. There's hardly anybody that would dare approach me. At first, I thought you only approached me because you were drunk but even now, you don't seem scared."

I watch as his smile fades and he becomes serious, "People are intimidated by you because you seem put together. For the guys, they want you but there's nothing they can use to lure you. And for the girls, you're not easily bought with money which is intimidating in its own right."

His words catch me off guard and I reply with, "I'll have anything that isn't alcoholic. Thanks."

I take the time he's gone to ponder on his words. He comes back shortly with a bottle of Veleta wine and pours two glasses, offering one to me.

I watch the wine swish in my glass as I speak, "Soon, everyone will find out that I was auctioned for hookup and that'll be the end of the intimidation. After all, gossip travels fast."

Laughing bitterly, I gulp my wine and set the glass down. The house is deathly silent and I glance at him.

He's watching me with sad eyes. "Who hurt you?"

His words make me draw my coat tighter and focus on my wine glass. Do I want to open this can of worms? Guess so.

"It all started with a friend, Timothy..."

FRIDAY, 1ST OF OCTOBER, 2021.
9:03 am

Water... that's what I felt as I came to. Someone was holding me up while Timo poured water on my head. Oh, and I was naked.

"What's going on?" I asked, my head aching. I was immediately released and I stumbled.

"Take your bath. I'll hang your clothes on the door for you."

I tried to ask questions but they left. Without much choice, I hurriedly took my bath and rushed out.

I felt pain in my lower abdomen but I dismissed it, wanting answers. Instead of the answers I sought, I was thrown into the rain at midnight with nowhere to go.

Losing my parents three weeks ago made me squat with Tim. He was a good friend to me but on this night, he drugged me and raped me together with his friend, stealing my virginity from me.

That was the last time I went to a guy's house. That was how I got to know that Ilorin boys aren't worth shit. That was when I started practicing my deadly resting face, because what's there to smile about anymore?

1:29 am.

When I'm done, Dimeji is speechless. He looks at me with wide eyes, like he can't believe it.

"Well..." I start to remove my overcoat, "shall we begin?"

"Don't." His tone is so sharp and direct that my hand freezes, "Let's just talk."

"But you spent 300k on me. Surely you didn't do all that to talk with me," I retort.

"Rachel, I won't lie. I like you a whole lot and I want us to be together. But I'm a patient man. Why don't we spend all night talking? I'll go prepare the guest room so you can be comfortable."

"Are you sure?" I ask him uncertainly.

"Definitely. I'll be back," he gives me a sad smile as he leaves.

I quickly add the sleeping powder I brought with me to Dimeji's drink. Sorry, fine boy.

Texting Richie, I tell him the job is done. Then I go look for Dimeji and hand him his glass.

"Thanks," he says and gulps it down. We sit on the bed, talking and before long, he's knocked out.

Richie arrives 5 minutes later and we quickly make away with Dimeji's electronics, jewelry and safe. We'll find a way to crack the safe when we get to Ikot-Ekpene. I can't wait to start a new life again.

MONDAY, 6TH OF AUGUST, 2024.
6:11 am.

I snuggle further into Richie on the bus as we make away with nothing but the clothes on our backs. We already got a deal for the stolen items-apart from the safe-before leaving Ilorin.

"Hey, did you really think I would arrest you if you couldn't pay my 320k back?" Richie asks with a pout. Seems someone has been pondering on the events of the past few days.

"Of course not," I reply, "Considering you were the one that made away with the ten bundles, I don't think I need to pay you. Do I?"

We both laugh and Richie drops a kiss on my forehead. "I love you, bunny."

"I love you too, daddy."

Oh well, I guess we've come to the end of my second adventure. My name is Roselyn Nwoku but you can call me Thorns. Follow me on the Main Crib for more updates. XOXO.

PEN MASTER 019 THE ASCENDANT

The floor was cold beneath Dr. Erin Okoye's trembling legs, her fingers slick with blood as she pressed them to the gash in her side. Her vision wavered, the dim light from the kitchen casting long, distorted shadows across the room. She leaned against the cold wall, her breath coming in shallow, sharp bursts, she saw her maid fleeing for a way out. The maid wouldn't be fast enough.

He stood by the kitchen doorway, watching her, his frame tall and menacing in the near darkness. The kitchen knife in his hand glinted faintly as he twirled it lazily between his fingers, like a cat playing with a mouse. He had no intention of eating-yet.

"The mind surgeon, wasn't it?" His voice cut through the silence, that headline following Erin like a shadow, splashed across every medical journal and news channel for weeks. She could almost see the bold, mocking letters now, hanging in the air.

"Everyone knows the renowned psychiatrist, Dr. Okoye. Aunty to the madmen. The woman who dug deep into the minds of the most disturbed, fearless, composed, invisible. Untouchable." He paused, letting the silence linger like a blade pressing into flesh. "Well... until now." His voice was low and conversational, as though they were discussing the weather over coffee.

Every inch of her screamed to run, but the pain in her side kept her pinned. She'd seen killers like him before, men who fed off death and violence, but never in her own home. Never with her own blood on her own floor.

"See, now I expected something more thrilling. You're making this really boring. You're supposed to be fierce and strong, not..... This." He gestured to her, a crumpled figure on the floor.

Her heart hammered, an erratic beat echoing through her skull, the hot pain spreading through her abdomen.
Get him talking. Buy time.
She straightened as best as she could, hiding the wince that threatened to break across her face.

"I'm sure you didn't put the both of us through this mess just for casual talk. What do you want?"

He chuckled softly. "I thought that would be obvious. I want you dead. Our last meeting didn't quite end the way I wanted."

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered, dizziness washing over her.

"Must everyone have a motive? In all honesty, I do it for the thrill of the hurt, the dance of death... You know, when you've done this as many times as I have, you learn to enjoy the anticipation. Is that how it feels with your patients? After spending half your life picking people's minds apart, digging through their secrets. I find you fascinating, the way you think you're in control, that you could help anyone... it's almost... cute."

Her vision blurred as she forced herself up, using the kitchen counter for support, her hands slipping on the blood-slick surface. She couldn't outrun him-not in her state-but she needed a distraction. With a swift motion, she grabbed the kettle from the counter and threw it at him.

It was a weak throw, but it bought her just enough time to stumble out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Her body barely cooperating, she half-tripped down the hallway, her bloodied hand slipping on the guest room door handle before she finally managed to turn it and throw herself inside. She shoved the door closed behind her, leaning against it with all her weight. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely hear anything.

Her hands shook as she reached for her phone, the screen glowing too brightly in the dark room. Please... please work.The moment the dial tone rang, the doorknob rattled violently.

"Open up!" The killer banged on the door.

Erin stifled a cry, her fingers trembling as she dialed the emergency number.

"Good evening. What is your emergency."

"Hello. Please help me, my name is Dr. Erin Okoye and a killer has broken into my house. He has a knife, I've been stabbed and-"

Her heart lurched into her throat as the door exploded open, and he charged toward her like a force of nature, his eyes gleaming with twisted pleasure. She screamed, stumbling backward, the phone slipping from her bloodied hand.

With terrifying speed, his boot collided with her side, the force of it sending her flying across the room. Pain erupted through her body as she slammed into the corner of the nightstand, the impact knocking the wind out of her. The room spun in dizzying circles.

The phone flew from her grasp, sliding across the floor and disappearing under the bed.

Erin gasped, her vision swimming, her hand instinctively pressing harder against the gash in her side. Blood soaked through her fingers, into her clothes. Her body screamed at her to collapse, to give up-but her mind was racing. Survive! it screamed.

He stood over her slowly, looming like a predator savouring his victory. The knife gleamed in his hand, and his smile twisted into something sick, something that wanted more than just a kill.

"You're sick. You're a sick, crazy psychopath who uses seeking pleasure as an excuse for the crimes you commit because you can't acknowledge that you're just like every other killer. Sad and alone, looking for something to fill that black, deep hole you call a heart," she spat.

The slap came quick and brutal, hard enough to make her ears ring. Before she could react, he pressed his hand into her wound. Her scream tore through the room as searing pain shot through her. She clawed at his arms, trying to push him away, but he was too strong, pinning her in place with terrifying ease. His face was inches from hers, his eyes wild with twisted satisfaction. He grabbed her by the hair, dragging her back into the kitchen.

Even in that moment, as she gasped for breath, her side throbbing with every shallow inhale, she saw it-the crack in his control.

"You're afraid, aren't you?" Erin forced the words out, pushing herself up on trembling elbows, her breath coming in short, painful bursts.

"Shut up." His grip tightened on the knife, his jaw clenching.

"It's always the same with people like you. You kill me now, and then what? The police catch you, you're put on death row. And then? You fake a sense of achievement when you know deep down you did nothing but waste your life."

For the first time, his eyes flickered with uncertainty. His chest heaved, his breath quickening, more erratic. She could see it in him-she had him teetering on the edge, struggling to hold onto the control he so desperately craved.

"You need approval. You need me." Erin's breath was laboured, but her tone was gaining strength.

"You need me to believe you're different. Special. Unique out of all the broken people I've picked apart. Fine, you want to know the truth? You're nothing but a sick, broken, insecure little boy. You're terrified, because deep down you don't know what will happen when you drop this facade."

"I said enough." His voice dropped, low and dangerous, as his hand reached behind him, pulling out a gun.

He smiled, watching her pulse quicken, her eyes wide but still defiant. "You see, Doctor? Most people find me intimidating." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "But you... you're bleeding out on your kitchen floor with a gun pointed at your face, and you still taunt me. Fascinating."

Erin swallowed hard, her heart pounding, but she didn't stop. "You're still the same broken boy society abandoned. Pathetic."

"You did this to me!" he screamed, bringing the gun closer to her face. "You couldn't let your perfect record be ruined. You tagged me as unfixable. If you hadn't made that diagnosis, I'd have had a normal, happy life."

Her breath hitched as the realisation washed over her. She saw him-the young boy she'd treated years ago, the life she had unravelled with a few clinical words. He was here to make her pay. She deserved it... but she couldn't afford guilt. Not now.

"Let me help you," she whispered.

His grip tightened on the gun, confusion flashing across his face for a brief second. "Don't play games with me, Doc."

"I'm not playing games. I'm telling the truth. Going out like this-cornered by the police-it would be pathetic. You want your revenge? Make it memorable. There's nothing memorable about a bullet. Prove you're more than just a killer with a gun."

He didn't respond at first, but his posture shifted slightly. The room was filled with the sound of sirens now, distant but unmistakable. They were getting closer.

"You're going to run. And when you leave, you will promise to come back. To do it right. To finish what you started."

His gaze darkened, his eyes flicking toward the window where red and blue lights began to flicker through the curtains.

He stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers. His smile returned, but it was tight, restrained. For a moment, he hesitated, watching her as if deciding whether to pull the trigger.

"I'll be back," he growled, his voice low, dripping with menace.

Despite the pain, Erin smiled. "I look forward to it."

With a final, furious glance, he turned and disappeared through the doorway, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Her body gave out, collapsing onto the cold floor as the sound of sirens filled the house.

Commentary: Well, let's see what these Pen Masters have to say about each other's works.

PEN MASTER'S REVIEW

REVIEW FOR 003 LIONESS BY 019 ASCENDANT

She didn't fail me!!!!!

I LOVED your twist!!!
I screamed WHAT??? When I finished reading this. This is very good.

But, it didn't hit me.

One,
The storyline was interesting, but I was confused at the ending. I had to read it again and really think about it before I could piece it all together. I think the confusion comes from the story feeling rushed. One moment she's at a party, thinking about the scam.
Next she's about to teach someone a lesson.
Then she's thinking of how to get the money back, she goes into prostitution, she makes the guy fall in love and boom! she was a scam all along.
This overview is evidence that you have a very good storyline. It just wasn't written down well.
From the moment Rachel and Dimeji have their conversation to when she drugs him, the pacing feels rushed. This makes the story feel incomplete, almost like a draft.

Two,
The calculation of 320 - (25 + 50) doesn't add up to 145k. I got confused when I read that part and had to stop to check the math, it's supposed to be 245.

Three,
"Who hurt you?"
That line felt too cliché. There wasn't enough emotion leading up to it for Dimeji to ask that question so suddenly. The story also didn't give enough emotional weight to make the reader believe that Dimeji would completely fall for Rachel's story. He's supposed to be naïve, but it would have been more engaging if she had manipulated him even further. Betrayal is more impactful when the victim feels more deeply invested.

Four,
The prompt felt like it was inserted into the dialogue without much thought. Rachel tells Dimeji that she's intimidating, and he just conveniently knows why. But why is she intimidating? I get a sense of it by the end of the story, but it doesn't connect well to the earlier conversation with Dimeji.
Why say most people find you intimidating when the only hint we the readers are given about her intimidation is the fact that she's nicknamed "Thorns".

Five.
The last paragraph???
Who is Roselyn? How is it connected to the main crib? And most importantly what impact does it make on the story?

Pen Master Lioness,
You are a really good writer. Better than me.
Writing is not easy(God abeg and what I wrote at this stage too) but we are bigger than this.

REVIEW FOR PEN MASTER 019 ASCENDANT BY 003 LIONESS

STRENGTHS.

-It was a decent read for me. Mystery/thriller genre (at least, that's what I think you were going for), I likey.

-The description was really nice and topnotch. The personalities were made clear.

- The killer's backstory and his motivation adds depth to the story.

-Dr Erin's determination and the way she handled the situation worked well in portraying the fact that she's indeed a great psychologist.

WEAKNESSES & SUGGESTIONS.

- Some sentences are long, making it hard for readers to feel the emotions behind the words. Try breaking them up for better clarity. And also, avoid long dialogues as it makes the words feel robotic.

-There were some punctuation errors. For example, you used five dots somewhere in the write-up. Ellipsis shouldn't be more than 3 dots. Also, you used a full stop at one point instead of a question mark.

- The pacing feels rushed and therefore, I didn't feel any tension while reading though or anticipation. It was kind of cliche for me.

-Italics should be used for thought process, not bold.

-There was mention of a maid but apart from Erin's thoughts about what might happen to her, there was no mention of the man actually killing the maid. Also, you could have mentioned her dead body at least once; probably the time Dr Erin ran into the guest room or something.

-Some things don't add up. Why was Dr Erin's phone in the guest room? Was she preparing the room for someone? Or does she have a cause to believe that her room is no longer safe so she now sleeps in the bedroom?

Apart from everything I mentioned, I think the rest of your work is great. I do wish I could write descriptions like you.

Commentary: Interesting.... Next!

PEN MASTER 016 SUMMER WRITER

My mother once told me off for being non-judgemental. She believed it was a cowardly trait that encouraged my timidity. My father on the other hand would say that anything essential is invisible to the human eyes. One sees only with the heart.

I never did tell my mother she was wrong for criticizing others. No, she was only being human, but my father's words made me a better person and helped me change the life of someone very special to me.

It felt like it was yesterday but this story begins with my second year in university. It was the beginning of another semester, another chance to make new friends but I found myself socially inept.

Second-year students were to start the school year with Organic Chemistry; a three-unit course handled by the faculty Grinch himself, Professor Abiade, a misanthropic disciplinarian who enjoyed sucking the joy out of his unfortunate students. The duration of the class was two hours-twenty minutes into the lecture and I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread washing over me.

Professor Abiade was doodling structures on the whiteboard when the classroom door creaked open. Immediately, all eyes were at the entrance as everyone wondered who dared to walk into the lecture hall when the professor had begun his lecture.

Moyosoreoluwa walked into the lecture hall and everyone began whispering to each other. We all had the same question in mind. Had he not been expelled?

Professor Abiade had a visible frown on his face which quickly disappeared after Moyo nodded in apology. I was shocked and so was every student in the room. Not only was the professor being lenient, but he also accepted an apology from a student who was rumored to be expelled.

Moyo approached the professor; I noticed him limp with each step. He took a brown envelope from his bag and handed it to the professor. Professor Abiade scanned through it and didn't say a word but rather gestured for Moyo to have a seat.
He pointed to the only empty seat left at the back, next to mine. Moyo limped his way down the aisle; our eyes met for a second and I hung my head downward.

Professor Abiade continued his lecture without any further interruption and all students except me, listened with rapt attention. I was focused on something else.

The boy beside me, Moyosoreoluwa Folarin, was summoned by the Disciplinary Committee last semester and charged guilty of cultic involvement and possession of drugs. I heard he was expelled but here he was, taking notes on ochem; something I ought to be doing as well.

I picked up my pen and reverted my focus on Professor Abiade who droned on about compounds, but I found myself eyeing Moyo. Come to think of it, I had never seen him in person rather than up close and so I allowed my eyes to scrutinize him.

Moyosoreoluwa had a rugged build; muscular with broad shoulders. His body seemed hard to touch and the bruises that adorned it added to his intimidating appearance. I had imagined him with tattoos crawling up every inch of his skin. Surprisingly, he didn't have any.

Time elapsed and the class ended. Moyo was the first person to leave after Professor Abiade. I noticed the way girls scurried out of his way and overheard the ill remarks everyone made toward him.

'A born criminal.' 'Like father like son.' 'Did you see his bruises?' 'I always knew he was a member of the cult just by looking at him.'

They went on and on and he probably deserved it for going against the rules but I couldn't help but feel pity. I was being overly sympathetic again.

Another lecture commenced an hour after Professor Abiade's class. I remained in my usual corner at the back and prepared for the lecture. A few minutes into the lecture, I found myself scanning the room for Moyo. He wasn't present and I wondered what was wrong. Could he have been summoned by the Disciplinary Committee? Had he been offered parole but the committee realized they had made a mistake and decided to expel him? Where could he be? These questions ran wild in my mind. I had never been so worried for someone I didn't even know. A supposed criminal.

After the lecture was over, I dashed out of the lecture hall looking left and right in a frantic search. I hoped to see him anywhere, but I didn't. I plopped down on a bench in defeat. I had lost hope.

"Good afternoon, mama." I heard someone say behind me with a raspy tone. I looked behind to see Moyo sitting on a bench. He was wearing a face cap which I guessed was to hide his face.

"How are you doing, ma?" He asked subtly for someone with such a rugged appearance. I realized he was on the phone with his mother. I couldn't make out the conversation between them but I was sure it had something to do with the Disciplinary Committee.

"Don't worry about me, ma. Everything will be fine." He assured. His eyes began to mist with tears.

"I told you I'll sort out Pa's debt. Don't worry about it. Uncle Jo wouldn't dare harm a hair on your head or he'll have me to deal with."

My eyebrows furrowed. It was no secret that Moyo's father had been incarcerated a few weeks ago, but his father's debts was a new topic. Poor Moyo was facing problems at home and possibly being battered on a daily basis.

My bag slid down my shoulder and fell to the ground, drawing Moyo's attention. Our eyes met and I pretended I wasn't eavesdropping on his conversation with his mother.

"I have to go, ma. I love you." He said and ended the call. His eyes were still fixed on me.

"You know, most people find me intimidating. It's very bold of you to eavesdrop."

I've been a coward all my life and here he was saying I was bold.

"Aren't you afraid?" He asked.

Was I afraid of someone like him?

"You didn't do it. Did you?" He understood what the question was for. Now that was quite bold of me. I didn't know what came over me but I had an urge to ask.

Moyo remained quiet. I noticed him clench his fist and I flinched; I regretted asking such a question. He stood up and left without saying a word.

I was to have Physics after lunch. As I approached the lecture hall, I noticed the crowd of students at the entrance. It seemed something was wrong. I raced inside the hall, squeezing my way through the crowd.

Moyo was being confronted by a few students. That's what caused all the ruckus. They called him names and made a lot of mean remarks to his face. A girl approached him and took the cap of his head.

'you belong behind bars with your father.'

She said and I found myself walking up to her. I slapped her in the face and everyone gaped in shock.

"Don't you ever say that again." I thundered.

Moyo stood behind me, flabbergasted.

I dropped my bag on the floor not caring if it'd get stolen and climbed onto a desk.

"There are going to be a million and one stories out there, but never judge a book by it's cover." I said and jumped down from the table. I picked up my bag, grabbed Moyo by the hand and we both walked out of the class; he still had a surprised look on his face, but I could tell he was trying hard to hide the tears in his eyes.

I questioned my action, thinking if my mother would tell me off for what I did. I faced a class off two hundred students-that was a bold move, and I helped someone who became very dear to me. She was very proud.

My husband, Moyosoreoluwa wasn't what people seemed he was. He wouldn't hurt a fly. He wouldn't hurt me.

PEN MASTER 010 SETH

Rumor has it that I murdered Deborah Nwabueze.

Sometimes when I really let the weight of those words settle, I feel my chest constricting, my throat tightening up like it wants to force me to cry.

I don't cry.

And I won't cry because of a stupid rumor.

The fact that they think I could murder someone is appalling, they don't know me.

None of them do!

They are all too scared to ever see the real me. Deborah did, didn't she? And now she is dead.

I rub against my eyes furiously, willing the tears to stay put.

The scent of my Eva soap permeates the air, and the more my mind wanders, the more the thoughts keep creeping in like the army of mist that cling to the mirror in front of me.

I sigh.

I've always hated the mirror in this bathroom, but this is the neatest bathroom in the hostel.

What I hate is having to stare at my reflection while taking my bath- my towering figure, my long legs that ate up distances when I walked.

My face, a map of plain dark skin and thick virgin hair that stubbornly refused to grow, but it's my eyes, I think, that unsettles them.

Or is it the thin line my mouth always forms whenever people see me, as if I am daring them to cross me?

I scrub my skin harder, refusing to stop even when the sponge bites into it and causes it to sting.

At least the pain drowns away Abisola's voice as she counts down for the girls bathing in the bath hall..

Deborah would have been one of those girls, a little voice whispers in my head, and I shove it down.

Happy thoughts, think happy thoughts.

"Everybody leave the hostel!" Mama Musa's loud voice nearly shakes the foundation of the building, making me realize how long I've been in the bathroom.

I hastily rinse my body, wrap my towel around myself and walk out.

The hostel is mostly empty so at least I don't need to meet their hostile gazes when I walk towards my bed.

This is how it has always been, the girls at Lady Ibiam college act like I am the hunchback of Notre Dame and avoid me like a plague, while I pretend to enjoy the privacy they give me.

A lie, obviously.

They've turned me into an outcast, a social pariah, and just when I thought I had gotten used to it, the incident happened.

Deborah Nwabueze was just like me, and I am not talking about the way we both transferred to this school in SS1, or that we were in the Debate Club, or that we were even bunk mates.

No, Deborah was like me because she saw me. She was one of the first people who did, and I disliked her for it.

When the matron, Mama Musa, instructed other SS1 students to carry her things into the hostel, I hadn't bothered with a single glance at the newcomer.

Not because I didn't care, but because I thought I knew all I needed to know about her; this was the seniors hostel, so she was probably in SS1 since we didn't get a lot of newcomers in SS2 or SS3.

What more? She was to be my bunkmate.

The matron had always wanted my bunk occupied, but I was very particular about my things, and once the girls sharing my bunk realized they couldn't work in that order, they always requested a change.

It was the norm, and I was used to it, which made me sure that Deborah would be one of those girls that left after a few days, except she hadn't.

Slowly but surely, she'd leeched her way into my life; first it was my bunk, then joining the Debate Club, where I was the president.

Everywhere I turned, I saw her, and unexpectedly, she remained my bunkmate for the full term, yet the truth remained- we weren't friends.

Deborah was my nemesis, and most times when I think back at it, it was because I was scared.

She was one of the best debaters the club had, she was studious, she was tidy, and she might have even seen me as a friend, but I never got over my own fear.

The fear that she would see what everyone else saw, the dogo girl in SS3 who juniors feared.

The girl who was rumored to have brutally beaten a boy in her former school, leading to her expulsion.

The boy I'd fought with in JSS3 deserved it, but they didn't care about that, regardless of which turn their stories took, I was always the bully, the one who would attack without listening.

The alleged 'victim' had announced to my class boys that I'd be good at giving BJ because I had enough height to take up their whole length.

They had laughed along with the boy and added side comments, but all that mattered was that I had beaten him.

I don't regret it though.

Deborah had treated me nicely, she tried to talk to me whenever she came back to the hostel, but I always ignored her.

The longest conversation we had was when we both had to debate against each other on a silly topic I can't even remember now.

All I remember was that I'd been cocky and picked the side of the debate that was clearly wrong in a bid to show how good I was.

She'd won, and I'd been pissed at her, but two weeks later when they found her unconscious body in the corner of the hostel, I knew I hadn't hated her one bit.

Eight days ago, I'd been in the Computer lab, doing research while some students watched movies secretly, and I'd thought I imagined the way some of the girls had looked at me.

Their eyes gravitated towards me, until one of my classmates, Fatima, had called me to speak to me.

Fatima was a weird girl who talked to everyone, but wasn't really friends with anyone, so I didn't mind her much.

I tried to pretend like I wasn't curious about what they were all saying, but as Fatima's nails dug into my skin as she dragged me along, I didn't stop her.

"Did you hear what happened?" She asked in a whisper, eyes wide.

"No" I replied and the next words that rolled off her lips felt like someone had ripped out my heart and plunged it into a bucket of ice.

"Deborah Nwabueze is dead. They found her body in the corner of the hostel, they said someone had hit her head multiple times until she died."

I had completely tuned her out as she went into details about Deborah's death. If I'd known things would escalate like this, maybe I would have paid more attention to everything Fatima said.

Now eight days later, students have come out to leave anonymous messages to the Guidance and Counseling department, that I- Giwa Abiodun- threatened to kill Deborah and had succeeded.

The matron has finished counting by the time I'm done dressing, but she doesn't say anything to me.

I don't know if it's because she heard the rumors and is scared of me, or because she pities me, but before I can decide, my phone buzzes in my pocket, suddenly reminding me of its presence.

Phones aren't allowed in the school environment, but most SS3 students ignore that rule.

"Giwa where are you?" My mom's voice is stern.

She has heard the rumor.

"I'm in my hostel." I reply, trying to sound casual in hopes that she hasn't heard it, I had postponed telling her myself for fear of how she would react.

She sighs heavily"Giwa, when were you going to tell me that they are accusing you of murder? Murder! Giwa"

"Mommy, I didn't do anything to her-"

"Didn't do anything? Who are you telling that one!" She yells cutting me short.

"It's just a rumor." I repeat, but she ignores me.

"Just a rumor? Why is it only you they are spreading this so-called rumor about, eh?"

I rub my forehead, already getting a headache. "I don't know Ma, most people find me intimidating, I guess I was just an easy target"

"Is being an easy target also the reason they said you threatened her or is that one true? " She asks, and a lump forms in my throat.

For a second, I don't reply.

"Giwa Abiodun Christabel, if you don't answer me now I will remove my clothes and curse you!" She yells.

Ah! I am finished!

The day we debated against each other, Deborah had won me with an uproar that had everyone cheering for her, and in a fit of rage I had said I'd get rid of her, but that was in a different context.

I didn't mean by killing her, I only wanted her out of the club.

How am I going to explain that to my mom who is already hysterical?

"They are not lying ma, I threatened her but it's not like -"

"Olorun maje! Giwa! Not like what? you're involved with something that can send you to jail and you're telling me it's not like that, egba mi o"

"Mommy please listen to me-"

"I am finished o, omo yi ti pa mi, my enemies have won..."

She doesn't stop, and before I can try to explain it better, I hear footsteps coming towards my corner, causing me to drop the call.

A short girl dressed in a pinafore appears before me. "Good evening Senior Giwa." I nod at her, "Mrs. Emmanuel said I should call you."

I am finally being called by the G&C unit. I have been anticipating being summoned by them all week, but I still feel sick to my stomach.

My mind goes blank and as if on autopilot, I stand up and follow the girl.

We walk to the G&C office, my eyes remaining fixed on the ground, my thoughts consumed by the weight of the situation.

The trees, the benches, the familiar landmarks-everything blurs together as I navigate the familiar route.

I don't even notice the junior student still walking beside me, until we reach the door. "We're here," she says, her voice breaking the silence.

My eyes land on Mrs. Emmanuel, the short, overly bleached woman that punishes those who break the law here.

"Good evening ma." I manage to say.

"Giwa, how are you holding up?" She sounds sympathetic. "With all the rumors circulating..." She trails off.

I swallow painfully, "I'm managing Ma."

She nods. "I can imagine. I know how cruel your age mates can be, but know that we are always here for you."

Another pause while she stares at me for a moment before asking. "I called for you because I wanted to ask you what you knew about Deborah's death."

Hearing her say it makes me realize how badly I want to be like the rest of the school- be able to just sit down and cry.

To properly mourn by bunkmate.

"I don't know anything, I only know what everyone else knows-that she was found by the corner of the hostel."

Mrs. Emmanuel nods again. "And what about the rumors that you threatened her? Are they true?"

I affirm her question and begin to narrate what actually happened that day, she nods in-between sentences, but her expression remains unreadable.

"I see." She says when I finish, "Giwa, I need you to answer me truthfully, where were you on the evening of October 4th?"

My gaze holds hers when I answer, "I was at the Chemistry lab, reading."

Her expression suddenly changes, her eyes narrowing slightly. "The Chemistry lab?" she repeats. "Giwa, the Chemistry lab wasn't open on that day. The HOD had gone home early with the key."

I freeze.

I must confess, I haven't completely been honest.

COMMENTARY: LET'S SEE THE REVIEWS!

PEN MASTER'S REVIEW

REVIEW FOR PEN MASTER 016 SUMMER WRITER BY PEN MASTER 010 SETH

Summer, your writing is truly blessed! The sensory details you weave into your story transport readers into the narrative, making us feel like we're experiencing it firsthand. The dialogue you used was engaging and the pacing of the story was inline and easy to follow.

However, there were moments where telling overshadowed showing. For instance, we're told the narrator is empathetic, but it would be more impactful to see her empathy in action before the Moyo incident. This would add depth to her character.

The narrator's empathy and non-judgmental traits are also highlighted throughout the story, but I craved more nuance and depth in her character development. What motivates her? What's her backstory? Fleshing out her character beyond these traits would make her more believable and engaging.

Moyo's character, too, feels inconsistent. Initially, he's portrayed as intimidating, but later, he's shown being harassed by students. This contrast needs reconciliation.

I appreciate how you tackle complex issues like abuse and misunderstanding , but other themes, such as cultism and drug handling, feel oversimplified. The narrator glossed over those topics as if she was talking about exam malpractice.

The envelope Moyo gives to the lecturer at the beginning feels like a missed opportunity for foreshadowing.

I also wanted more insight into the protagonist's thoughts when Moyo gave the lecturer the envelope. What did she think it meant? Why did the lecturer react so leniently considering how strict his character was introduced? Expanding on this moment could have added depth to the story.

Despite these areas for improvement, I love how you hint at a wholesome ending, with the narrator and Moyo potentially marrying. It's a great conclusion.

REVIEW FOR PEN MASTER 010 SETH BY 016 SUMMER WRITER

I must say, brilliant writing, wonderful execution of the prompt but the storyline seems to be lacking. There were some redundant lines which I feel where written to increase word count (like the explanation of what the personnae felt about the bathroom) therefore leading to the story to a lack in plot development. Though it's a short story, they should be a period of climax and resolution. The story just stops at suspense.

For my general criticism, SETH you are a good writer. Wonderful execution once again.

Commentary: Well, this is the end of the review for this batch. See you in the next page 😗