Brevity Bard

Adesuwa walked through the winding streets, feeling the weight of a decade’s worth of memories pressing down on her. Each corner, each storefront brought back images of a different time—a time before everything shattered. She passed by familiar faces, some looking away quickly, others casting suspicious glances, as if she were a ghost haunting the town. Her destination was a small, faded yellow house on the corner, its white picket fence now splintered and leaning. It was Kemi’s house, where she’d spent countless hours laughing and sharing secrets with her best friend. She hadn’t seen Kemi since the trial, but she hoped that perhaps some remnants of their friendship had survived. She took a steadying breath and knocked on the door. After a long pause, the door opened a crack, and Kemi’s face appeared. Her eyes widened as she recognized Adesuwa, and an awkward silence hung between them. “Kemi,” Adesuwa said, forcing a smile. “It’s been a long time.” Kemi’s expression was unreadable, a m

The bus wheezed to a stop, brakes squealing, as it pulled into the small station on the outskirts of town. Adesuwa stepped down, her feet landing on familiar ground that felt strangely foreign. She looked around, taking in the town she’d once called home. The buildings were the same, but everything felt different now—sharper, colder. The air was thick, carrying the scent of damp earth and something else she couldn’t quite place. She pulled her small bag over her shoulder, her only possession now, and took a deep breath. People walked past her, heads turning with each step she took down the main street. She could feel their eyes on her, the weight of their gazes pressing down like lead. She could almost hear their thoughts, silent accusations, curiosity mixed with contempt. The whispers started, low murmurs she couldn’t quite make out but felt deep in her bones. “That’s her,” she caught a voice say as she passed a small group outside the grocery store. Adesuwa kept her head high, her ex

The digital clock on the precinct wall blinked 5:00 AM, its red numerals casting a faint glow in the pre-dawn darkness. Inside the station, an uneasy quiet had settled after the chaos of the night. Detective Durojaiye sat at his desk, his shirt still stained with blood and gunpowder residue, watching as his fellow officers processed two of the most significant arrests in Lagos' history. In separate holding cells, Olumide and Taiwo awaited their fate. Taiwo had been the first to receive medical attention, his injuries from the confrontation severe enough to require immediate treatment. As paramedics wheeled him out on a stretcher, his eyes had locked with Olumide's, a silent exchange that spoke volumes about unfinished business. Durojaiye rubbed his temples, the events of the past few hours playing on repeat in his mind. The battle had been intense, a symphony of gunfire and violence that had ended with an unlikely alliance between him and Olumide. Now, in the stark fluorescent

The heavy scent of dust and mildew filled the air of the abandoned church, mingling with the low crackle of nearby candle flames. Moonlight filtered through shattered stained-glass windows, casting fractured, colorful shadows across the cracked pews. At the center of it all, Olumide and Durojaiye sat across from each other at a weathered wooden table. Their guns, ominously placed in front of them, gleamed faintly under the flickering candlelight. Taiwo circled them like a predator, his every step echoing in the silence. His presence, a cold and menacing specter, dominated the room. The twisted grin on his face spoke of a man reveling in control. For years, Taiwo had worked from the shadows, manipulating the lives of men like Olumide and Durojaiye, bending the world to his will. Now, he was finally stepping out, making his grand appearance, and offering his prey a glimpse of his power. “Gentlemen,” Taiwo’s voice dripped with amusement as he surveyed the two men sitting before him. “You’

The sun was beginning to set, casting a crimson hue over the chaotic streets of Lagos. The once-bustling city was quiet, too quiet, as if the very air had thickened with tension. Inside a rundown safehouse, Olumide paced back and forth, his mind racing. The betrayal of Bode weighed heavily on him, yet a part of him had seen it coming. He turned to Bode, who was sitting against the wall, bloodied and bruised. The man’s once imposing presence had withered away, his loyalty shattered by the crushing force of The Syndicate’s grip on his family. His hands shook as he held a small slip of paper, barely able to keep his voice steady. “They… they have my family, boss. They’ve been using them to control me,” Bode whispered, his voice cracking with guilt. “I had no choice.” Olumide’s jaw tightened. Bode’s betrayal cut deeper than Jide’s, but he couldn’t ignore the truth staring back at him. This wasn’t just about revenge anymore. It was about survival. He snatched the paper from Bode’s trembling

The sun hung low over Lagos, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly through the bustling city streets. The air was thick with the weight of secrets, conspiracies, and betrayals, and somewhere in the midst of it all, Detective Durojaiye sat hunched over his desk, piecing together the labyrinthine puzzle of The Syndicate. Durojaiye’s office, usually a chaotic mess of case files and evidence boards, had been transformed into a war room. Red strings connected the faces of politicians, corporate moguls, and criminals alike, with Femi’s mutilated corpse at the center of it all. Each new connection Durojaiye discovered made the picture clearer—the corruption in Lagos ran deeper than he’d ever imagined. "Olumide's not the king he thinks he is," Durojaiye muttered to himself, eyes narrowing as he stared at the board. "He’s just another pawn on The Syndicate’s chessboard." A knock on the door broke his concentration. It was his partner, Detective Goke, hold