Rooted Stories

See this life ehn 😭

One side: Bro dey hustle for container, sweat full body, thinking how to pay rent, school fees, and send money home. Head hot, no peace.

Other side: Babe dey chill for house, sipping cocktail by 11 AM, AC on full blast, no worry in the world.

Life no balance at all!
Some guys go carry the whole world for head, while some ladies just dey enjoy the fruit of the hustle without stress.

Who dey hustle like this guy? 😩
Who dey live the soft life like this babe? 🍹
Men, una go still marry abi una don tire?
Ladies, una go still allow man rest small?

Who finds a prayerful woman, finds joy and peaceful home.

May your home feel the breeze of peace, today! Amen. 🕊️

Long ago, in a world where love was both a blessing and a curse, there lived a young man named Eric.

He was the kind of man who made people stop and stare—not just because of his striking good looks but because of the effortless grace with which he carried himself. A newly admitted Law student at the prestigious University of Lagos, Eric was the dream of many and the envy of some.

From the moment he set foot on campus, whispers of his presence spread like wildfire. He was tall, dark, and effortlessly confident—the kind of confidence that wasn’t born out of arrogance but from an innate understanding of his own worth. His deep-set eyes carried a mystery, and his voice, smooth as silk, had the power to make anyone pause and listen.

The ladies were enthralled.

They came in all shapes and forms—slim, curvy, petite, tall—all hoping to catch his attention. Some admired him from afar, stealing glances whenever he passed. Others were bolder, striking up conversations at every opportunity, hoping he would choose them.

But Eric was a man of principle.

It wasn’t just his looks that made him irresistible. He was a prototype of intelligence, an antithesis of dullness. The way he commanded the English language made it seem as though he invented words himself. Professors nodded in approval, fellow students listened in awe, and those who envied him burned in silence.

Yet, for all his brilliance, Eric was humble.

Born as the only child of wealthy, influential business tycoons, he lacked nothing. While other students struggled with tuition, textbooks, and daily expenses, Eric moved with an air of ease. His clothes were designer, his gadgets were the latest models, and his sleek black Mercedes became a campus spectacle.

But despite his wealth, he treated everyone with kindness. He spoke with humility, helped those in need, and walked through life believing in one thing—love.

To Eric, love was pure. Love was sacred. Love was meant to be cherished, protected, and nurtured.

He had seen his parents—despite their wealth and power—remain deeply in love. And so, he believed in love’s goodness, never once thinking it could turn against him.

But love, as sweet as it is, can also be cruel.

Eric would soon learn that in the game of love, not all hearts beat with sincerity. Some hands reach out in warmth but hold hidden daggers. Some smiles conceal betrayals, and some kisses are laced with poison.

He never saw it coming.

He never knew that love, the very thing he believed in so deeply, would one day lead him to the darkest moment of his life.

It all started in the Love Garden, a serene, quiet spot on campus where students escaped the chaos of school life.

One breezy evening, Ademola sat on a wooden bench beneath an old almond tree, flipping through the pages of a novel. The book was Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, and she was lost in its world.

Eric noticed her from afar.

She was the kind of girl that turned heads without trying—soft-spoken, yet there was a fire in her eyes. Her long braids cascaded over her shoulder, and the way she bit her lip as she read intrigued him.

He wasn’t the type to believe in love at first sight, but something about Ademola made his heart skip a beat.

Gathering his courage, he approached her.

“Excuse me,” he said, his deep voice breaking the silence. “I noticed you’re reading Purple Hibiscus. That’s one of my favorite books.”

She looked up, her brown eyes meeting his, a small smile forming on her lips. “Really? Most guys I know don’t read Chimamanda’s books.”

Eric chuckled. “Well, I guess I’m not like most guys.”

That was how it started.

What began as a casual conversation quickly blossomed into something deeper. They talked about everything—their dreams, fears, ambitions, and the little things that made life meaningful.

She found herself drawn to his intelligence, the way he spoke effortlessly, his charm, and the kindness in his eyes. He, on the other hand, was captivated by her warmth, her beauty, and the way she listened as if every word he said mattered.

Before long, they exchanged numbers.

What followed was a whirlwind romance that took even them by surprise.

In just a matter of weeks, they became inseparable.

They were seen together at lecture halls, the library, the school’s recreational centers—walking hand in hand like two souls destined for each other. Their love was pure, untamed, intoxicating.

It was the kind of love that poets wrote about.

The kind that made the world stop and watch.

And soon, it became the envy of the entire University of Lagos.

People whispered about them. Some admired them, wishing for a love as beautiful as theirs. Others envied them, their hearts burning with jealousy.

But neither Eric nor Ademola paid attention to the world’s opinions.

They were too lost in each other, too drunk on the magic they had found.

But what they did not know was that their love had awakened a storm.

Lurking in the shadows, hidden behind the curtains of the past, was a danger that neither of them saw coming.

A danger that had been watching, waiting, and planning.

And that was when the darkness that would eventually take Eric’s life began to loom over them.

One evening at the Moremi Hall Cafeteria, Eric and Ademola sat, sharing a meal and laughter. The air was filled with the scent of fried rice and grilled chicken, and students bustled about, enjoying the evening.

But then—a shadow loomed over them.

Before Eric could react, Jagon and his gang stormed in like a whirlwind.

In an instant, Eric was yanked from his seat, his chair clattering to the floor, plates shattering, and Ademola’s scream piercing the air.

“Eric!" she gasped, reaching out.

But it was too late.

Jagon—the infamous leader of a deadly secret organization—had been watching. He had once loved Ademola, or so he claimed. But his love was tainted with cruelty, obsession, and control.

When she left him, his ego shattered.

And now, any man who dared to stand by her side would pay the ultimate price.

And so, Eric became his next target.

The cafeteria crowd stood frozen in fear, some dropping their meals, others whispering prayers. But no one dared to move, no one dared to intervene.

Ademola was left in utter confusion, her heart racing, her body trembling. She wanted to run after them, to plead, to fight—to do anything to save Eric.

But she was powerless.

And Eric’s fate was sealed.

Ademola’s heart pounded violently in her chest as she stumbled out of the cafeteria, her mind clouded with fear and desperation.

Where had they taken him?

She ran blindly through the dimly lit campus, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. She had to find help. She had to save Eric.

With trembling fingers, she dialed the only number that made sense in that moment—the police at Panti Station, Yaba.

“Please… you have to help me,” she sobbed into the phone, barely able to form words. “They took him… Jagon and his gang… they took him! They’re going to kill him!”

The officer on the other end of the line didn’t hesitate. “Stay where you are. We’re on our way.”

Within minutes, sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder as police vans raced through the streets of Lagos, their flashing blue lights slicing through the darkness.

But was it too late?

The campus was vast, with many hidden corners, many dark places where evil could lurk unseen. Would they find Eric in time?

Ademola could only pray.

Meanwhile, in an abandoned warehouse at the edge of campus, Eric was thrown to the cold cement floor, his head slamming against the ground. His vision blurred, pain shooting through his skull.

He could barely make out the figures looming over him, their eyes gleaming with wicked intent.

And then, Jagon stepped forward.

The leader of the dreaded secret cult moved with slow, deliberate steps, his face a mask of cruelty.

“You think love is just about giving and receiving, don’t you?” Jagon sneered, his voice dripping with venom. “But you dared to take what was never yours. For that, you must pay.”

Eric coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “Please… you don’t have to do this,” he gasped. “Take my money! Take my car! Take my life’s savings! Just let me go.”

But Jagon only laughed.

A cruel, hollow sound.

“You don’t deserve to live,” he declared, his voice echoing through the empty warehouse. “You feasted where you never sowed, and now, I shall drink from the cup of your fate.”

Eric’s body trembled. He had always believed in the goodness of people, in the power of love. But love had betrayed him.

The last thing he saw was Jagon raising a blade—and then, the world went dark.

The police arrived too late.

They found Eric’s body hours later, discarded like a lifeless doll.

The scene was one of unspeakable horror.

His legs had been broken, his eyes gouged out, and a single gunshot wound sat between his lifeless eyes.

Ademola collapsed to the ground, her screams shattering the silence. Tears streamed down her face as she clutched his lifeless body.

The University of Lagos fell into mourning.

The boy who had been the pride of his faculty, the hope of his family, and the heart of Ademola—was gone.

Gone, because he dared to love.

And Jagon?

The police launched a manhunt.

But evil, like a shadow, does not disappear so easily.

Jagon vanished.

Some say he escaped the country. Others say he was never seen again.

But some… some believe that on certain nights, if you listen closely, you can still hear the whisper of his cruel laughter, drifting through the trees like a ghost, reminding everyone of the price of forbidden love.

And so, the tale of Eric, the helpless lover boy, became a legend, a cautionary story whispered through the halls of the university.

A tale of love, jealousy, and vengeance.

In the village of Oruma, there lived a man of God whose miracles echoed far beyond its borders, reaching neighboring communities. His name was Evangelist Simeon, and his deeds were the talk of many. People believed he was divinely gifted—his touch restored sight to the blind, healed the sick, and even brought the dead back to life.

Before his arrival at the Evangelical Fire Ministry, the church had seen a succession of pastors, none of whom succeeded. Attendance dwindled, and the congregation lacked spiritual fervor. But when Evangelist Simeon took over, everything changed. His presence ignited a revival. People from all walks of life flocked to the church, pagans denounced their old ways, and the village of Oruma became a beacon of faith.

Not long after his arrival, he organized a crusade that remains etched in the memories of villagers and beyond. That fateful night, he performed wonders that defied logic. A widow, pronounced dead and brought to the crusade ground, miraculously rose again at his command. The lame walked, and the blind rejoiced as they received their sight. News of these divine acts spread like wildfire.

Soon, people abandoned their churches to join the Evangelical Fire Ministry. The poor sought prosperity, the rich desired more wealth, the unmarried longed for partners, and the married hoped for stronger unions. Even devout pagans forsook their ancestral beliefs to embrace the ministry’s message. The church overflowed during Sunday services, with crowds too large to be contained within its walls.

Week after week, Evangelist Simeon continued to perform resounding miracles. The afflicted came from distant lands, seeking his touch. It was said that barren women only needed to touch his garment to conceive. His power was undeniable, his presence electric. He was, in the eyes of all, a man filled with divine fire.

But beneath the surface of his anointed image lurked a secret no one had foreseen. Evangelist Simeon was not who he seemed.

The village of Oruma was about to uncover the truth—a revelation that would shake their faith to its core.

The source of his power, long hidden, was about to be revealed.

Although everyone seemed captivated by the seemingly real miracles and wonders, a new convert, Samuel, felt uneasy. Doubt gnawed at him—something about it all felt too perfect, too staged. The sheer magnitude of Pastor Simeon's signs and wonders made him suspicious.

Determined to uncover the truth, Samuel began to investigate. But this was no simple task. Pastor Simeon was an enigma—guarded, secretive, and elusive. Even those who lived with him knew little about his personal life. He prayed alone, never allowing anyone to join him.

Most strikingly, there was a small, mysterious room in the church—one that had never existed before his arrival. It was the first thing he requested after assuming leadership of Evangelical Fire Ministry. Built within the church, adjacent to the altar, the room was meant for his private prayers before every service. Once completed, no one else had ever set foot inside.

Curiously, no one questioned its purpose. The congregation was too enamored by his miracles to be concerned with such details. But Samuel couldn't ignore it. He watched closely, noticing how Pastor Simeon always entered that room before performing any healing.

Night after night, Samuel wrestled with his thoughts. He wanted to believe the miracles were divine, yet something felt off. The more he observed, the more convinced he became—there was a secret behind the pastor’s power, and he was determined to uncover it.

Not long after, something happened that seemed like an answer to Samuel’s prayers. His niece, Uremi, had just been sent back to her father’s house by her husband after eight years of childlessness. Frustrated by their misfortune, the husband had given up and returned her to her family.

The news shook the household. Infertility was unheard of in their lineage, making Uremi’s situation even more troubling. She was a tall, stunning woman—one whose beauty turned heads wherever she went. But now, her charm was overshadowed by the shame of barrenness.

Samuel, however, saw this as an opportunity. Finally, his family could benefit from the miraculous power of Evangelist Simeon. Without hesitation, he told Uremi about the Evangelist, confident that the man of God—renowned for granting barren women the fruit of the womb—would solve her problem.

The very next morning, Samuel and Uremi made their way to the church. But before Uremi could even explain her plight, Evangelist Simeon interrupted, his voice commanding and assured.

“Woman, all your troubles are already before the Lord.”

Samuel felt a surge of relief. But if only they knew what was about to unfold—a wolf in the clothing of a shepherd.

"You will pray with me for the whole day and night," the pastor declared.

Samuel’s heart skipped a beat. Was this not the same man whose mere garment had supposedly granted barren women children? Why, then, was Uremi’s case different?

But Pastor Simeon reassured them. “Do not be troubled. The Almighty is about to do wonders.”

He then made a shocking request—only he and Uremi would pray together in the church sanctuary. Samuel was to return home and come back to pick her up the following day.

The air felt thick with mystery. Samuel wanted to trust the Evangelist, but something about the situation didn’t sit right. Yet, under the weight of faith and expectation, he hesitated to question the supposed man of God.

Everything seemed divine. Everything seemed supernatural.

If only they knew.

Just as Samuel seemed to have left, the horror began to unfold.

At first, everything appeared genuine. Evangelist Simeon’s voice carried an air of authority as he instructed, “We must begin the prayer at the altar before finalizing it in the inner room, where divine cleansing and deliverance will take place.”

At exactly 8 PM, they moved towards the all-night deliverance session—one that was supposed to free Uremi from the shackles of barrenness.

But this was where hell was about to break loose. The true devil was about to unveil himself.

“Take this and rub it on your head. It is a divine ornament required before you can enter the holy room,” the pastor said, handing her a strange substance.

Uremi, obedient and desperate for her miracle, took the substance and applied it as instructed. The moment it touched her skin, an overwhelming force seized her body. She staggered, her consciousness slipping away, as the pastor caught her and led her into the small room—the so-called holy room.

But what Evangelist Simeon didn’t know was that Samuel had never truly left. Suspicious and uneasy, he had hidden in a dark corner of the church, watching the pastor’s every move. Determined to uncover the truth, he remained silent, waiting for the moment of revelation.

As the Evangelist carried Uremi into the forbidden room, Samuel crept closer, his heart pounding in his chest. From his hiding place, his eyes widened in horror.

The room was nothing like a place of prayer. There was a bed at the center, surrounded by strange, eerie objects—fetish items that spoke of dark rituals rather than divine miracles. Skulls, blood-stained cloths, and bizarre symbols adorned the walls. The air was thick with an unholy presence.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

Evangelist Simeon laid Uremi on the bed—her unconscious body completely vulnerable. And just as he began to force himself upon her, a grotesque figure emerged from the shadows of the room.

It was a woman—yet not entirely human. From the waist up, she bore the form of a woman, but below, her body transformed into the coiled form of a massive python. Blood dripped from her mouth as she hissed in approval.

Samuel’s breath caught in his throat. This was the source of the pastor’s power.

Realizing the grave danger, Samuel wasted no time. He bolted out of the church, racing to the village, his voice breaking through the still night.

“Come quickly! The pastor is a fraud! He is not a man of God!”

The villagers, awakened by his cries, grabbed whatever they could—torches, sticks, and weapons—and stormed the church.

When they arrived, they caught Evangelist Simeon in the act. His ritual was interrupted as the angry crowd seized him, dragging him away from Uremi’s lifeless form.

Panicked, he fell to his knees, trembling. “Please, let me confess!” he cried.

“All my miracles have been fake! I have never given any woman the fruit of the womb! I trick them into coming here, drug them, and violate them while they’re unconscious.

“All those I have healed from blindness, I did not cure them—I stole their destinies! They regained their sight, but in exchange, their fates were bound to the marine kingdom I serve!”

The crowd stood frozen, their faces etched with horror. Everything they had believed in, every so-called miracle, had been a lie.

Anger surged through them like wildfire.

By the time the police arrived, Evangelist Simeon had already been beaten to a pulp. He was taken away in handcuffs, his dark empire finally crumbling.

Evangelical Fire Ministry was no more. The villagers burned the church to the ground, reducing every trace of its wickedness to ashes.

Uremi, still unconscious, was rushed to the hospital, where doctors worked tirelessly to revive her.

And with that, the nightmare ended.

But the lesson remained—one that the villagers would never forget.

Moral Lesson:

Fake pastors lurk everywhere, preying on the desperate and faithful. Beware of so-called miracle centers and those who claim divine powers beyond measure. They are the false prophets the Bible warns against—wolves in sheep’s clothing, leading souls to destruction.

Stay vigilant. Stay discerning. And never be blinded by the illusion of wonders.

In the village of Oruma, there lived a man of God whose miracles echoed far beyond its borders, reaching neighboring communities. His name was Evangelist Simeon, and his deeds were the talk of many. People believed he was divinely gifted—his touch restored sight to the blind, healed the sick, and even brought the dead back to life.

Before his arrival at the Evangelical Fire Ministry, the church had seen a succession of pastors, none of whom succeeded. Attendance dwindled, and the congregation lacked spiritual fervor. But when Evangelist Simeon took over, everything changed. His presence ignited a revival. People from all walks of life flocked to the church, pagans denounced their old ways, and the village of Oruma became a beacon of faith.

Not long after his arrival, he organized a crusade that remains etched in the memories of villagers and beyond. That fateful night, he performed wonders that defied logic. A widow, pronounced dead and brought to the crusade ground, miraculously rose again at his command. The lame walked, and the blind rejoiced as they received their sight. News of these divine acts spread like wildfire.

Soon, people abandoned their churches to join the Evangelical Fire Ministry. The poor sought prosperity, the rich desired more wealth, the unmarried longed for partners, and the married hoped for stronger unions. Even devout pagans forsook their ancestral beliefs to embrace the ministry’s message. The church overflowed during Sunday services, with crowds too large to be contained within its walls.

Week after week, Evangelist Simeon continued to perform resounding miracles. The afflicted came from distant lands, seeking his touch. It was said that barren women only needed to touch his garment to conceive. His power was undeniable, his presence electric. He was, in the eyes of all, a man filled with divine fire.

But beneath the surface of his anointed image lurked a secret no one had foreseen. Evangelist Simeon was not who he seemed.

The village of Oruma was about to uncover the truth—a revelation that would shake their faith to its core.

The source of his power, long hidden, was about to be revealed.

Although everyone seemed captivated by the seemingly real miracles and wonders, a new convert, Samuel, felt uneasy. Doubt gnawed at him—something about it all felt too perfect, too staged. The sheer magnitude of Pastor Simeon's signs and wonders made him suspicious.

Determined to uncover the truth, Samuel began to investigate. But this was no simple task. Pastor Simeon was an enigma—guarded, secretive, and elusive. Even those who lived with him knew little about his personal life. He prayed alone, never allowing anyone to join him.

Most strikingly, there was a small, mysterious room in the church—one that had never existed before his arrival. It was the first thing he requested after assuming leadership of Evangelical Fire Ministry. Built within the church, adjacent to the altar, the room was meant for his private prayers before every service. Once completed, no one else had ever set foot inside.

Curiously, no one questioned its purpose. The congregation was too enamored by his miracles to be concerned with such details. But Samuel couldn't ignore it. He watched closely, noticing how Pastor Simeon always entered that room before performing any healing.

Night after night, Samuel wrestled with his thoughts. He wanted to believe the miracles were divine, yet something felt off. The more he observed, the more convinced he became—there was a secret behind the pastor’s power, and he was determined to uncover it.

Not long after, something happened that seemed like an answer to Samuel’s prayers. His niece, Uremi, had just been sent back to her father’s house by her husband after eight years of childlessness. Frustrated by their misfortune, the husband had given up and returned her to her family.

The news shook the household. Infertility was unheard of in their lineage, making Uremi’s situation even more troubling. She was a tall, stunning woman—one whose beauty turned heads wherever she went. But now, her charm was overshadowed by the shame of barrenness.

Samuel, however, saw this as an opportunity. Finally, his family could benefit from the miraculous power of Evangelist Simeon. Without hesitation, he told Uremi about the Evangelist, confident that the man of God—renowned for granting barren women the fruit of the womb—would solve her problem.

The very next morning, Samuel and Uremi made their way to the church. But before Uremi could even explain her plight, Evangelist Simeon interrupted, his voice commanding and assured.

“Woman, all your troubles are already before the Lord.”

Samuel felt a surge of relief. But if only they knew what was about to unfold—a wolf in the clothing of a shepherd.

"You will pray with me for the whole day and night," the pastor declared.

Samuel’s heart skipped a beat. Was this not the same man whose mere garment had supposedly granted barren women children? Why, then, was Uremi’s case different?

But Pastor Simeon reassured them. “Do not be troubled. The Almighty is about to do wonders.”

He then made a shocking request—only he and Uremi would pray together in the church sanctuary. Samuel was to return home and come back to pick her up the following day.

The air felt thick with mystery. Samuel wanted to trust the Evangelist, but something about the situation didn’t sit right. Yet, under the weight of faith and expectation, he hesitated to question the supposed man of God.

Everything seemed divine. Everything seemed supernatural.

If only they knew.

Just as Samuel seemed to have left, the horror began to unfold.

At first, everything appeared genuine. Evangelist Simeon’s voice carried an air of authority as he instructed, “We must begin the prayer at the altar before finalizing it in the inner room, where divine cleansing and deliverance will take place.”

At exactly 8 PM, they moved towards the all-night deliverance session—one that was supposed to free Uremi from the shackles of barrenness.

But this was where hell was about to break loose. The true devil was about to unveil himself.

“Take this and rub it on your head. It is a divine ornament required before you can enter the holy room,” the pastor said, handing her a strange substance.

Uremi, obedient and desperate for her miracle, took the substance and applied it as instructed. The moment it touched her skin, an overwhelming force seized her body. She staggered, her consciousness slipping away, as the pastor caught her and led her into the small room—the so-called holy room.

But what Evangelist Simeon didn’t know was that Samuel had never truly left. Suspicious and uneasy, he had hidden in a dark corner of the church, watching the pastor’s every move. Determined to uncover the truth, he remained silent, waiting for the moment of revelation.

As the Evangelist carried Uremi into the forbidden room, Samuel crept closer, his heart pounding in his chest. From his hiding place, his eyes widened in horror.

The room was nothing like a place of prayer. There was a bed at the center, surrounded by strange, eerie objects—fetish items that spoke of dark rituals rather than divine miracles. Skulls, blood-stained cloths, and bizarre symbols adorned the walls. The air was thick with an unholy presence.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

Evangelist Simeon laid Uremi on the bed—her unconscious body completely vulnerable. And just as he began to force himself upon her, a grotesque figure emerged from the shadows of the room.

It was a woman—yet not entirely human. From the waist up, she bore the form of a woman, but below, her body transformed into the coiled form of a massive python. Blood dripped from her mouth as she hissed in approval.

Samuel’s breath caught in his throat. This was the source of the pastor’s power.

Realizing the grave danger, Samuel wasted no time. He bolted out of the church, racing to the village, his voice breaking through the still night.

“Come quickly! The pastor is a fraud! He is not a man of God!”

The villagers, awakened by his cries, grabbed whatever they could—torches, sticks, and weapons—and stormed the church.

When they arrived, they caught Evangelist Simeon in the act. His ritual was interrupted as the angry crowd seized him, dragging him away from Uremi’s lifeless form.

Panicked, he fell to his knees, trembling. “Please, let me confess!” he cried.

“All my miracles have been fake! I have never given any woman the fruit of the womb! I trick them into coming here, drug them, and violate them while they’re unconscious.

“All those I have healed from blindness, I did not cure them—I stole their destinies! They regained their sight, but in exchange, their fates were bound to the marine kingdom I serve!”

The crowd stood frozen, their faces etched with horror. Everything they had believed in, every so-called miracle, had been a lie.

Anger surged through them like wildfire.

By the time the police arrived, Evangelist Simeon had already been beaten to a pulp. He was taken away in handcuffs, his dark empire finally crumbling.

Evangelical Fire Ministry was no more. The villagers burned the church to the ground, reducing every trace of its wickedness to ashes.

Uremi, still unconscious, was rushed to the hospital, where doctors worked tirelessly to revive her.

And with that, the nightmare ended.

But the lesson remained—one that the villagers would never forget.

Moral Lesson:

Fake pastors lurk everywhere, preying on the desperate and faithful. Beware of so-called miracle centers and those who claim divine powers beyond measure. They are the false prophets the Bible warns against—wolves in sheep’s clothing, leading souls to destruction.

Stay vigilant. Stay discerning. And never be blinded by the illusion of wonders.