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CHRONICLES OF A RUNS GIRL— A Crime Thriller Series Episode One

Deòlu was tired of poverty. Born and raised in Ìlorin, she had known suffering all her life. Her father was a bricklayer who worked under the scorching sun for daily pay, and her mother sold roasted corn by the roadside. Feeding was a struggle, and school fees were a luxury. The streets had taught her one thing—if you wanted a good life, you had to grab it with both hands. So when her childhood friend, Teni, invited her to Lagos, promising her “soft life,” she didn’t think twice. “Lagos no be your village,” Teni had laughed over the phone. “If you sabi package, you go blow.” Deòlu packed her few belongings—just a small Ghana-Must-Go bag filled with second-hand clothes and cheap perfume—and boarded a night bus to Lagos. The city was a monster, but she was ready. Apapa Hustle Begins Teni lived in a cramped one-room apartment in Apapa, close to the port. The air smelled of fish and sea salt, and the streets were always busy, filled with truck drivers, market women, and men with wandering ...
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Witches on Whatapp Final Episode(Series 1)



WITCHES ON WHATSAPP(FINAL EPISODE)


That’s how I run people’s lives to a desert land.
Silent. Barren. Hopeless.

While they struggle, I thrive. My life? Oh, it’s perfect. I have a good job, a good man, and the kind of comfort many can only dream of. I go on vacations, sip expensive wine, and enjoy the privileges of power.

And yet, nothing excites me more than watching others lose.

I don’t celebrate people’s wins—I ruin them. Especially the prayerless ones. The careless ones. The ones who think the world is full of love and light.

It’s funny.

When things go wrong in your life, you blame your “village people.” You call your mother’s relatives witches. You look at the old woman in your compound with suspicion.

But it’s not them.
It’s me.

I’m not hiding in a faraway village. I’m right here, on your WhatsApp list. That distant friend you barely talk to. That old schoolmate you randomly check up on.

That bestie you confide in.

You post your joy, and I take it. You announce your plans, and I scatter them.

And when you cry, I smile.

Maybe this will teach you to pray. Maybe this will teach you to keep your visions locked away, bathed in the blood of Jesus. Because if you don’t, people like me will pluck them from your hands before they ever come to life.

I am that pretty lady you admire.
Always on fleek. Always looking good. Always glowing.

I don’t look like the witches Nollywood painted for you. I don’t have red eyes or fly at night.

I fine die.

Written by Ini Crown (Author of When Hearts Meet)

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