Thriller Story Shelf

The roof shook. Windows shattered. Flower pots flew like stones. Dust, thick and red with earth, stormed into the apartment, covering the floor like the harmattan had come early. But this wind was not natural. It was searching. Inside, the air turned wild. The wind danced through rooms like it knew the corners, twisting through furniture, knocking over chairs, lifting curtains like skirts. It found baby Loys. Her cradle shook. Then rose. Loys wailed, a sharp, high cry that pierced even the storm. The wind curled around her, rocking her in midair. Her mother, Shakky, screamed, clawing through the storm toward her daughter. But the wind pushed back—hard. The television cords lashed like snakes. The standing fan crashed. A frame of an old ancestor shattered on the ground. Semmy tried to run to them. The wind chased him instead, wild and angry. He fled to the hallway and slammed the door shut behind him. But the air... it felt familiar. Like the presence of someone who once lived in the ho...

Quick Help “The night is approaching. You told me you would help.” "Yes. You will meet me at the only palm on the hills of ṣápátì, in Ibadan, tonight. Oh, and Before I forget—take a bite. It’s chocolate. I bought some on my way home from work. You know that I’m an entrepreneur, yes?" 'Yes, of course I know! That’s why I’m looking forward to your help tonight.” Yale let the chocolate sink into his mouth. Hummmh… it was a cold-creamy, sweeter chocolate. He didn’t recognize the brand, but it was delicious. He made a gesture as if to help himself to another one. “May I?” Wúrà snapped the box shut with a sly smile. “Uh-uh—only one for now. When we’ve made a deal, then you may have more.” Yale rubbed his neck sheepishly but smiled. “Now go get ready for tonight. And don’t be late.” As the hours raced by, Yale grew anxious. It was a longer trip than he’d anticipated. Although his hired man drove well—with the bad roads and frequent security checks—how would they make it to ṣápát...

                          INITIATION At Wharf Maternity, it was common knowledge that permanent day workers earned less than the shift workers. Naturally, every new hire opted for extra hours to maximize their earnings. David had just started as an auxiliary nurse, eager for the higher pay that came with night shifts. In his early thirties, he figured working two night shifts per week wouldn’t disrupt his lifestyle too much. The extra pay was worth it, and he had plenty of time to rest on his off-duty days. He particularly hoped to join the night shift in the administration department, having heard about the generous hourly rate. Tne day, while on duty, David noticed a newly placed file on the rack. Unlike the others labeled with patients’ names, this one was marked “Customer.” That struck him as odd—every file had a section clearly labeled “Patient.” His curiosity got the better of him. He had always been inquisitive, an ...