Content Warning: This story contains themes of financial hardship, hunger, sexual intimacy (non-explicit, implied), crude humour, and alcohol use. It depicts a character experiencing poverty, frustration with government and institutional failures, and a brief moment of psychological distress involving a hallucinatory or supernatural encounter with a child only the protagonist can see. The tone is dark comedy, but readers sensitive to depictions of financial anxiety and supernatural elements may wish to proceed with care.
Intro:
Three days without food. A bank that stole his maintenance fees. An electricity man who cleaned out his last cash. And a girlfriend who showed up, ate the only food in the house, and waged war on mosquitoes until 2 AM. Jones has had better weeks. But just when salary finally hits and life feels manageable again — a child nobody else can see sits down next to him at the bar and says he needs help. This is a Nigerian dark comedy about poverty, bad luck, and the moment ordinary life tips sideways into something else entirely.
Three Days Broke: Hunger, Bad Luck, and a Girlfriend Who Shows Up Anyway
Jones has been broke for three days now — one of those stretches where salary came late. For those three days, hunger had been his steady companion. He could sit in a corner and you could hear his stomach rumble loudly, and when you looked at him, he would be yawning like a fish out of the river. He lamented how the government always delayed in paying civil servants.
"What sort of country is this?" he would mutter, shaking his head. "I give my sweat and blood for this civil service job, but what do I get in return? A delayed salary and hunger as my constant companion. I'm tired of this," he would say.
The Aroma That Woke Him
That day, at exactly 5:30 AM, he was sound asleep. It had been a rough night because sleep couldn't come due to the hunger. He had begged sleep, "Come on, baby, sleep — don't do this to me, I need the rest," but sleep hadn't come, and he was awake till 4:50 AM before it finally knocked him out. Then at 5:30 AM, he was awake again.
He cursed silently, but he knew what had woken him. He sniffed loudly, not believing his nose. He stood up and peeked outside his window. You could see his eyes bulge and his mouth water, his Adam's apple moving like gears in motion.
"How can someone be cooking at this time?" He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't dreaming. That wasn't enough — he slapped himself. "This is real," he said, then fell back down on his bed, sleep leaving him completely.
The aroma of his neighbor's cooking had entered his room through the window and gone straight to his nose. That was what had woken him, and now he lay there, just awake, sniffing like a dog every now and then. It was a hard morning, knowing he had no food to eat.
An Alert and a Rip-Off
He lay there till 7:00 AM, and then he couldn't bear it anymore. He called his sister, but there was no answer.
"Too early," he muttered. "Can't blame her."
He dropped her a text message asking for cash, saying he was so hungry he was seeing ghosts.
At 7:20 AM, he got an alert of $3,000 from his sister. He couldn't believe his eyes.
"Wow, this is so great! I'm a rich man now," he said.
He opened his banking application to confirm the balance, and what he saw hit him hard. His balance was $2,500 — his bank had deducted a whole $500 for maintenance fees and SMS charges.
"This bank will have it today! How can they do this to me? What a rip-off — they will answer to me today. But first, let me have something to eat."
After eating, he got tired and lay down to sleep. The money wasn't enough, but it was okay to last him two days. He brought out his phone and dialled his girlfriend's number. After three rings, she picked up.
"Hello!"
"My baby," he grinned. "How are you?"
"I'm not fine," she said. "You've been ignoring me."
"Come on, baby, that isn't true. I was facing some challenges," he said, playing with a pen in his hand.
"What challenge is more important than me?" she asked.
"Now, don't say that, baby. You are important to me, but eh — situation get some how."
"What situation?" she asked.
Flourish on the Line
He could hear noise in the background. It sounded like people were arguing — no surprise there. His girlfriend, Flourish, came from a family of fifteen children, and there was always fighting and quarrelling at her place. He heard a loud voice say, "How can you eat my portion?" and then various voices clamouring for the loud voice to calm down.
"Jones!" his girlfriend called.
"I'm here. What is that noise?" he asked.
"Don't change the topic. Tell me about the situation you mentioned," she said.
"I can't say it on the phone. Why not come over so we can talk?" he grinned, hoping she wouldn't hear it in his voice.
"I don't think so. If I guess well — and I have not been wrong — I know what you want."
"Come on, don't be stingy. I need you, baby."
"The weather is too hot for that."
"Relax, it's just a few minutes, and we can have a swim."
"No. Your few minutes always turn into three hours."
"It's not my fault I'm dating a beautiful and sweet girl. It is my love for you giving me the strength and stamina."
"Hmm, you admit to loving me?" she asked.
He could hear her breathing hard.
"Of course I love you to the moon and back."
"Alright, I'm coming."
Jones's grin grew wider as he hung up. This is what I'm talking about — a full stomach and a babe in your arms. Well, well, well, I'm the boss now. He checked his wallet. After withdrawing the $2,500 and spending $1,500 on food, he had just $1,000 left.
"This will do," he said as he lay down, waiting for his girlfriend.
An Unexpected Visitor
A few hours later, there was a knock at his door. He did a small jig in his room, smiling while looking at the mirror.
"Damn, I'm good," he said as he opened the door.
The smile slipped from his lips. Standing there was a man holding a leather tool and a plier, wearing red gloves that reached his elbows, a helmet, goggles, and an overall complete with boots.
"Who are you?" he asked. Deep down he knew, but he was angry.
"Good evening, sir," the man greeted him. "I'm from the electricity company and we are disconnecting those who are owing bills."
"Then get on with it. I'm expecting someone."
"Sorry, sir. You are among those owing six months of unpaid bills."
"What! Me?"
"Yes, sir."
"I've been sleeping under heat this whole time — even now there is no power supply — and you want to collect bills?"
"Sorry, sir, it will come today."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, sir."
"Can you come back next weekend?"
"No, sir. It is today or nothing."
"Fine," Jones said, dipping his hand into his pocket and bringing out his wallet. "How much is my bill?"
"$6,000, sir."
Jones froze. He raised his head from his wallet and looked at the man. "That much, even with the poor power supply?"
"I'm afraid so, sir."
"Alright, here is the thing — I don't have much, so you can hold this $1,000 and by next week I will pay the rest."
"Alright, sir."
Well, Well, Well
And that was how his last $1,000 was taken from him. His mood soured. He entered his room and quietly closed his door.
"This is frustrating," he said, glaring at the clock. The time was just a few minutes past 7:00 PM.
He was just about to call his girlfriend when there was another knock. He froze, unsure who it was — until he heard her voice.
"Baby, are you in?"
He grinned, forgetting his troubles. He hurried to the door and opened it wide, smiling.
"Welcome, my love," he said, embracing her.
"It better be something important for dragging me here."
"Are you not happy to see me?" he asked, sounding offended.
"What is this situation you were talking about?"
"My baby," he smiled, moving slowly toward her.
"No, Jones, I know that look."
"Hey," he protested.
"It is no!"
"Come on, baby. I'm horny."
She sighed, sitting on his bed. "I figured," she said.
"Well, aren't we going to, you know, do the thing?"
"Sure, we will — what are you even waiting for?" she asked as she unzipped her gown.
The Mosquito War
After an hour of satisfying intimacy, Jones finally fell asleep with a grin plastered on his face.
Flourish went to his kitchen and ate the last of the food he had prepared. She thought his cooking wasn't bad — manageable, at least. The heat was too much, so she entered the bathroom to take a bath.
Jones dreamed he was standing at the foot of a mountain made of money — bundles of hundred-dollar bills arranged in a way that reached the very top. He hurried to pack it and then discovered he was wearing only his pants and nothing else. He looked around. The place was barren — just him, the cash, and nothing else. He looked down at his pants and made a decision to turn them into a rucksack. He was in the process of removing his zipper when he received a thunderous hot slap on his back.
He screamed, only to wake up seeing his girlfriend pointing a torchlight at his face, her hand raised to slap him again.
"What the hell! Do you want to kill me? That hurt," he complained, trying to calm his burning skin. He swore there would be a palm-shaped welt. "Get that damn torch out of my face."
"Sorry, baby, I saw a very big mosquito sucking your blood. I had no choice but to kill it," Flourish said. She was now using the torch to flash across his wall, then hurrying to each spot and slamming it with a noise he swore would wake his neighbours.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked, sitting up on his bed and rubbing his back.
"Too many mosquitoes in here. I have already killed seven, and this heat — I can't sleep," she said, pointing the torch at another part of the wall and hurrying to slam it.
"Cut it out," he said. "You're making a racket. Leave the damn mosquitoes and get back to bed."
"I can't — they have been biting me. Look at me, I have been scratching my body from the intense bites I received from them."
I'M DEAD OH
Jones swore as his stomach rumbled. I could be sleeping, he muttered as he stood up and entered his kitchen — only to shout:
"I'M DEAD OH! THIS GIRL HAS KILLED ME!"
Flourish hurried to the kitchen, only to find Jones sitting on the floor, weeping.
"Babe, what is wrong?" she asked.
With a teary face, he looked up at her. "Did you have to finish my food?"
She sighed. "I thought something bad had happened — what is wrong with you? And that food was small."
"Small?" Jones was incredulous. He couldn't believe what he had heard. "That food could have lasted me two days," he said.
"Don't complain. It was small after what we did — I need my strength."
"That is no excuse," he said darkly.
"What is done is done. You called me here, remember."
He was silent and watched as she left him and returned to the room. He sat there, listening to her mutter something as she slammed the wall again and again, while he sat thinking about what to eat and how he had been scammed by the electricity company — the power they had promised still wasn't even supplied to him.
Salary Alert
In the morning, he escorted his girlfriend to a cab and watched as the car faded into the distance. He stood there, not even bothering to look where he was going. His heart was heavy — no money, no food, and he was hungry. He yawned, and then his phone vibrated. He brought it out and the message made him wipe his eyes twice, then a big nasty grin plastered across his face.
His salary had been paid.
"This calls for a celebration," he muttered. "After all I have been through."
He hurried to his regular bar, and as he sat down on the stool, he saw a new signpost on the bar that read: NO CREDIT TODAY. COME TOMORROW.
He signalled the barman, who reluctantly came to him frowning. He didn't care.
"Come on, Biggy, pour me your best whisky," he said to the barman.
"I hope you have noticed the new signpost?" the barman asked.
"Hey, Biggy, are you trying to insult me?"
"There is no credit today. Come tomorrow."
"Calm down, I'm not asking for credit."
"Your tab is in the book," the barman said.
"How much?" Jones asked.
"$7,000."
"Here," he said, handing over his card. "Clear the tab, and add extra for this."
The barman's face brightened and he grinned. "Sure, boss." He handed over the whisky and hurried to clear the book.
Jones watched him with a laugh, shaking his head.
The Kid Only He Could See
Then he heard a small voice ask, "What is the time, mister?"
Jones looked around. He was alone at the bar, and the other drinkers didn't look like the type to have kids with them — because the person asking about the time was a child.
"You are not supposed to be here," he said.
"You could say that," the kid said.
"Who are you talking to?" The barman appeared, handing back his card.
"This kid here," Jones said, pointing at the kid — who just stood there shaking his head, as if to say you should have kept your mouth shut.
The barman looked at where he was pointing and shook his head. He glanced at the drink and said, "Are you high?"
"Not yet," Jones said.
"Then where is this kid?" the barman asked.
"Right over here, and he is asking for the time."
"I don't see anyone. You must have had too much to drink," he said, walking away.
Jones froze. He looked at the kid, then at the barman, wondering if he was really drunk.
"You're not drunk," the kid said. "They can't see me."
"What!"
"I need your help," the kid said. "My name is Bright, and you will be handsomely rewarded if you help me."
"What sort of help?" Jones asked. He could see the barman looking at him weirdly and shaking his head. The barman even squinted at the label of the drink he had poured Jones to make sure he hadn't given him something wrong, then poured himself a small portion and took a sip.
"I'm being pursued," the kid said, looking around.
"By who? And what did you do?"
"I disobeyed my father," the kid said with a downcast look.
"Well, that serves you right. When I was a kid, I never disobeyed my father — I always obeyed."
"That is a lie," the kid said, frowning. "I can read it in you."
Jones laughed, and the people around just looked at him. The barman gave them a calming gesture, pointed at Jones, then pointed at his head and made a circular motion — indicating Jones was going crazy from the drink.
"What do you mean you can read it in me?"
"I can read your mind," the kid said.
Jones laughed again. He brought the glass to his lips and took a sip. He loved the taste — it tasted like there was fire in his mouth, and the warmth the drink spread made him giddy. The drink smelled like a rusted nail and the sun. "Wow, kid, don't be stupid. You can't read a mind."
"I can. For example, the barman thinks you have gone mad."
"Of course — talking to you makes me look stupid. I'm practically talking to myself."
"And there is Flourish," the kid said.
At this, Jones nearly choked on his drink. He spat it out. "What do you know about Flourish?"
"Nothing beyond what you and her did," the kid said, blushing.
"Damn it — you really can read my mind." The kid just nodded his head.
"Okay, what is on my mind now?" he asked, thinking of eating a big roasted chicken.
"A roasted chicken," the kid said.
"Who are you? Really."
"I'm Bright. I was named after the first light to appear in the sky."
"I don't give a damn about that — just who are you?"
"I'm the prince of The Gifted People."
"Never heard of that. There is no royalty in this land except in England."
"I don't know any England," the kid said. "But my people control the four elements — Water, Fire, Earth, and Wind."
Jones shook his head and muttered a curse under his breath. This was really him going crazy. What was really wrong with him? How could he be talking to a kid only he could see? No — that madness in his family had finally located him. He thought he had escaped it, but no, his village people were trying to make him run mad. No, he would not yield to them. He turned to the kid. "Best be going back to where you came from. Whoever sent you, tell them you didn't see me."
But the kid didn't move. He just stood there looking at him, then sighed with a resigned look. He dipped his hand into his pocket and brought out two bundles of hundred-dollar bills. Jones was watching from the corner of his eye — his eyes bulged and he turned to the kid. "Give that here. Where did you steal that from?"
"I didn't steal it. I told you — you will be rewarded. There is more where that came from."
"Hey, kid — you're talking to an adult, show some respect," Jones said. But the kid could see his hand shaking from the effort of holding himself back from touching the money. His mind was already counting it, but with a will as shaky as a loose bolt, he clenched his hand into a fist. "What do you want?"
"Help me to my kingdom and you will have two bags of this," the kid said, showing him the money.
"Two bags," Jones said. His mind was running at full speed. With such money he could get whatever he wanted — and he could marry Flourish to boot.
"That is the spirit," the kid said.
"Hey, that is cheating. You don't go around reading an adult's mind."
"Sure. Will you help me?"
"First I need to know everything, and secondly put that cash in my hand and let me hear it whisper — and mind you, that is just me feeling it, nothing else."
"Yeah, I can read your lies too. But I will tell you everything. My story starts like this..."
Outro
To be continued...
Bright has promised Jones two bags of cash—but he hasn't yet said what's chasing him, why he disobeyed his father, or what awaits anyone who helps the prince of The Gifted People. Part 2 is coming. And the reward may cost far more than Jones ever bargained for.
The Crucible of Sins
Subject: Cursed Bloodlines, Dark Penance, & Brutal Realities
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Penelope’s story. A devastating look at how poverty is used as a hunting ground for predatory manipulation.
Where sins are weighed. A journey through a dark fortress where every shadow demands a confession.
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