True-Life Stories is one of the best tools we can use to Inspire, Motivate, Heal, and even to Save Lives.
I know when something happens to us, people around us in their efforts to console and comfort us they make use of examples of people who have been in such situations before especially those that triumphed at the end.
We make use of true-life stories to comfort mostly so that this new person who suddenly finds herself in a situation she has never been in before can know that they are not alone.
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So, Changing Lives With True Life Stories has been the main focus of this blog. Although, I have been sharing my stories alone. For Instance, “I Remember” is a true account of what happened on the morning of the day of my accident
Most of the others have been moments, A Day in My Life, My Life As An Unbalanced Mom or just using the things I have been through as illustrations in my posts. they are all true-life stories or accounts.
Now, to start on the journey of using true-life stories to reach out to people in their challenges and struggles in life and letting them know they are not alone.
I have decided to start with mine and take you on the journey that is my life
I shall share with you those moments, time and events that brought me here today.
The title of my story is “South West 1”.
I still intend to change it though when it becomes a book, God willing.
And it’s going to be in series, so keep watching out and subscribe to my newsletter to stay updated.
The First Episode is Titled “I Shall Not Die” Please, Read on
I am cursed. I am not sure of much for now but of this one fact; I am cursed. And by the time you finished reading my story, you would believe me.
This was my first thought when I came to, I was not sure of that too. All I knew at first was the sun was bright, and fierce, intending to scorch.
It was searing, everything was hot my body was ready to combust. However, I was cold too, somewhere within I could feel a weird chill clutching my heart.
The noise was too much, too loud; so many people speaking, screaming in one voice but different tongues.
I couldn’t get up, couldn’t move anything, save my right hand.
Some parts of me were missing, numb or malfunctioned. The first on my list was my waist downward. I couldn’t feel it.
Later, I was with my sisters; we were sitting outside, chatting and laughing. I do not understand what we were laughing about.
Then I was in our backyard arguing with my brother. He became upset walked in and banged the door after him. I hissed and stormed into the kitchen.
The kitchen transported me back to the street, I looked up and saw Tope. He was my childhood friend, I hadn’t seen him in six years.
The last time I saw him I hadn’t seen him in ten years. Six years ago was in Ife at Adventist School of Nursing.
I was standing at the gate and then I saw him, but I only waved at him because I couldn’t stop to talk to him.
I was heartbroken. Dumped all over again by the guy who disappeared with my heart three years before.
He called me that day to tell me why he broke up with me.
I had spent those years thinking it was all my fault. I should be relieved that it was not my fault after all but I wasn’t. My heart was being smashed all over again.
That was the last time I saw Tope until that day on the street where I wanted to buy Daniel Defoe “Robinson Crusoe”. We hugged and exchanged pleasantries.
Then I was back home with my younger sister. She wanted to come with me to the campus to print her project work.
It would be cheaper there.
Everything became bright again, and hot.
A bizarre thought crept into my head; something had sliced me into two.
Everything froze at that moment. I felt something warm trickling out of somewhere between my thighs.
It was oozing in a strange beat, the same with my heart as if it was being pumped by my heartbeat.
A nightmare was my next thought, I needed to wake up, but I couldn’t move, every breath was like the last.
Something terrible is wrong with me; I had no idea what. I wanted to cry but no tears. I was as dry as clay soil in the harmattan.
Maybe I died and landed in hell. That would explain the noise and the absence of anybody to help or tell me where I was.
Nobody came, there were so many people, voices everywhere but no one to help. I felt so tired, thirsty terrified.
“I am going to die or I am dead already, and in hell! But why is my mouth filled with sand and stones?”
I felt like I was hit or pinned down by something. A strong, cold hand gripped my throat and clutched my heart; it was fear.
Night was beckoning fast though the sun was still shining so bright and fiercely hot. I was not ready for its embrace.
“I am not going to die here,” I said to myself, “not yet, not on the street like a dog.
I’ll see my family and say goodbye to them. I’ll find out what happened to me. ” I said to the bright sun and the looming night.
I have no idea why I had the thought that I was not yet dead.
However, the thought gave me hope and this gave me strength.
A dark shape appeared above and blocked what little light I had left to see, then it spoke. (To Be Continued)
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