Brevity Bard

A year had passed since the tragic events at Lekki Toll Gate, and the city of Lagos had not forgotten. The memory of the massacre and the sacrifices made by those who stood against injustice continued to resonate deeply within the hearts of many Nigerians. On this somber evening, a vigil was held at the very site where so many lives were forever changed. Candles flickered in the gentle breeze, their flames casting a warm, golden glow on the faces of the gathered crowd. The air was filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination, a testament to the enduring spirit of the EndSARS movement. Ifeanyi, Damilola, Aondo, and Amina—now in a wheelchair—stood together, each lost in their own thoughts and memories. They had come to honor their fallen friends, Amara and Na'ibi, whose love and bravery had inspired so many. As the vigil came to a close, the friends gathered in a tight circle, their faces illuminated by the candlelight. "We can't let their sacrifices be in vain," D

The days following the Lekki Toll Gate massacre were filled with anguish and despair. The city of Lagos, usually so full of life, felt heavy with grief and anger. Amara, Ifeanyi, and Damilola began a desperate search for Na'ibi, combing through hospitals, police stations, and morgues in hopes of finding any trace of him. Amara was consumed by guilt and fear. The weight of the situation was exacerbated by a secret she had recently discovered: she was pregnant. The news had been a shock, but amidst the chaos and her frantic search for Na'ibi, she had no opportunity to share it with anyone. The fear of what might have happened to Na'ibi gnawed at her, and the guilt of not heeding her father's warning added to her torment. She replayed her father’s words over and over in her mind. Chief Daniels had warned her about the potential attack on the protesters. He had known something was going to happen and had tried to dissuade her from attending. But Amara, believing that her pr

The sun began to set over Lagos, casting a golden hue across the city. The atmosphere was tense as thousands of protesters gathered at Lekki Toll Gate, chanting slogans and holding up signs demanding an end to police brutality. It was the height of the EndSARS protests, a movement that had gained momentum as Nigerians from all walks of life united against the Special Anti-Robbery Squad's (SARS) abuses. Na'ibi stood amidst the sea of protesters, feeling a mix of guilt and determination. The events of the past few weeks had weighed heavily on him. He had stepped back from the fight, choosing the safety of entertainment journalism, but watching Amara continue to risk everything had filled him with regret. Tonight, he was here to support her, to show that he was willing to stand by her side once more. He spotted Amara near the front lines, her voice leading the chants, her presence a beacon of hope and defiance. He pushed his way through the crowd until he reached her, grabbing her

The sound of sirens blared in the distance, but this time, it wasn’t just a routine disturbance in the bustling city of Lagos. Amara’s friend, Amina, had been unjustly arrested during a peaceful protest against police brutality. The news hit Amara like a freight train. She rushed to the hospital where Amina was taken after being shot in the leg. The doctors tried their best, but the injury was too severe. Amina’s leg had to be amputated. Amara stood by Amina’s bedside, her eyes filled with tears and fury. "This is why we fight," she whispered, holding Amina's hand. "This is why we can't stop." Na'ibi arrived at the hospital shortly after, his face pale and drawn. The sight of Amina, frail and bandaged, filled him with dread. He knew this could easily be Amara or even himself next. The danger they faced was no longer a distant threat; it was brutally real. As they left the hospital, Amara turned to Na'ibi, her expression a mix of desperation and deter

Na'ibi and Amara had grown accustomed to the threats. The anonymous messages, the eerie sense of being watched—it was all part of their new reality. Yet, they never imagined the danger would breach the sanctity of their home. It was a quiet evening in Na'ibi's modern, upscale apartment located in one of Lagos' most prestigious neighborhoods. The open-plan living space was stylishly furnished, with large windows offering a stunning view of the city skyline. Na'ibi and Amara were huddled on the couch, poring over new evidence for their investigation. The room was dimly lit, creating an atmosphere of intimacy and focus. Suddenly, a loud crash shattered the tranquility. The front door had been violently kicked in, and masked men stormed into the apartment. Na'ibi's heart raced. He instinctively grabbed Amara's hand and pulled her down behind the kitchen island. "Stay low," he whispered urgently. The intruders spread out, ransacking the apartment. N

Amara's office was a flurry of activity as she and Na’ibi pored over documents, photographs, and recordings. The investigation into the Nollywood scandal had taken on a life of its own, revealing deep-seated corruption that extended far beyond the entertainment industry. Each piece of evidence they uncovered felt like a small victory, but with each victory came increased danger. Na'ibi had never felt more alive or more terrified. Working side by side with Amara, he found a new sense of purpose. Their bond grew stronger through the shared challenges, and the adrenaline of uncovering the truth brought them even closer. Late nights were spent in the office in whispered conversations, their hands occasionally brushing against each other’s as they worked. The chemistry between them was undeniable, fueling their determination to see the investigation through. One evening, after hours of sifting through files, Amara leaned back in her chair and stretched. "We've uncovered so

A crisp morning in Lagos saw Na'ibi's phone buzzing incessantly. It was Ifeanyi, his colleague and close friend, with news that would shake the entertainment industry to its core. A major scandal had broken, involving some of the biggest names in Nollywood. Allegations of fraud, blackmail, and illegal dealings were all over the headlines. This was a career-defining story, a chance for Na'ibi to cement his name in journalism. Na'ibi hurried to the office, his mind racing with the possibilities. As he pored over the details of the scandal, his phone buzzed again. This time, it was Amara. They had planned to meet that evening to discuss their latest efforts against child marriage, but the urgency in her voice suggested something more pressing. "Na'ibi, have you seen the news?" Amara asked. "Of course. It's all anyone is talking about," Na'ibi replied. "This is your chance," Amara said, her voice filled with conviction. "You ca

The sun was high, casting a harsh light over the streets of Lagos. Amara stood at the forefront of a large crowd, a megaphone in hand, her voice rising above the noise of the bustling city. The protest against child marriage had drawn significant attention, with people from all walks of life coming together to demand change. Na'ibi, standing slightly apart from the crowd, watched Amara with admiration and concern. He had decided to support her by attending the protest, but his presence had not gone unnoticed. Within minutes, several reporters had recognized him, their cameras and microphones now pointed in his direction. “Na'ibi! Are you here to cover the event or support the cause?” a reporter shouted. Na'ibi felt a surge of irritation. He hadn’t come to be the story; he wanted to support Amara. He gave a terse smile and replied, “I’m here to support the cause. This is an important issue that needs attention.” As the reporters continued to hound him, Amara noticed the comm