Wisdom For Winning.
A man with one watch knows what time it is. A man with two is never quite sure. When the mind is in doubt, indecision sets in. It's time to get focused and take that decision. The greater degree of wishful thinking, the greater degree of mediocrity

BIG SISTER, VERY HUMBLE

An eagle once taught a woman how to raise a child.

— Are you alright, human mother? — the eagle asked.

The woman looked at her, startled.

— I’m afraid. My baby is about to be born, and I have so many doubts. I want to give them the best, a beautiful, easy life… but how will I know if I’m raising them right?

The eagle perched nearby and replied:

— Raising a child isn’t about keeping them comfortable. It’s the opposite. When my eaglets are born, I line the nest with soft feathers and grass. It’s warm, safe. But when the time comes for them to grow, I remove it all. I leave only the thorns.

The woman frowned.

— Thorns? Isn’t that cruel?

The eagle looked her in the eyes.

— Discomfort pushes them to move. The thorns make them want more — to fly, to find their place. Comfort teaches nothing.

The woman hesitated, still uncertain.

— And if they fall?

The eagle nodded.

— They do fall. I throw them into the wind. They drop. I catch them. I throw them again. Over and over — until they learn to fly. And then? I let them go. I don’t help anymore.

The woman’s eyes widened.

— But what if they’re not ready?

— They won’t be, until they try. If I keep them safe forever, they’ll never learn. It’s not about letting them suffer. It’s about letting them grow. Even when it hurts you.

The woman placed her hand on her belly, breathed deeply, and smiled.

— Thank you, Mother Eagle, she whispered. Your wisdom is a gift.

She walked away — ready to be the mother her child would need: not perfect, but strong. A mother who teaches them to fly.

If you want your child to soar high — don’t clip their wings with comfort.
Let them feel the wind.
Let them stumble.
Let them rise.

True love isn’t sheltering them from life.
It’s teaching them how to live it.
Even if that means watching them fall… so they can learn to fly.

Casting a movie, Genevieve Nnaji plays a newly married Banker who recently moved into her husband’s mansion in Lagos after their wedding. Everything seems perfect until she discovers a locked secret room no one talks about.

Her husband, played by Ramsey Nouah, tells her it’s just for storage. But at night, she hears the cry of babies in that room. She discovered a hidden envelope in her husband's cupboard with photos of a woman who looks exactly like her—and a little girl she doesn’t remember giving birth to.

Bimbo Ademoye plays her younger sister who urges her to leave the house after hearing all. But one night, Genevieve opens the door to the secret room and suddenly vanishes for 24 hours. When she returns, she can't remember anything, and strange things start happening...
Where did she disappear to? Who is the little girl in the picture? Who could be behind this? What would be a great title for this blockbuster?

Starring: Genevieve Nnaji, Ramsey Nouah, Bimbo Ademoye.

Children of God in the house, what does Proverbs 22:6 say?

Children of God in the house, what does Proverbs 22:6 say?

WHAT IS THE WAY TO IMPROVE LIFE?

1).Don’t compare yourself. Everyone has got their own story to tell and so do you.

2).Reading writing, and staying happy with yourself.

3).Establishing boundaries when you need to.

4).Staying positive about what life has got to offer you.

5).Trying out new things every month or so.

6).Keeping up with your health.

7).Not falling victim to bitterness, hate or other negative emotions.

8).Finding peace.
Learning to “just keep swimming” no matter the weather.

9).Accepting people for who and what they are. Accepting yourself.

10).Learning something new every day even if its teeny tiny.

11).“Be a friend to get a friend”

12).Keeping your home clean.

13).Whether your surround yourself with many people or none is up to you.

14).Do what makes you feel good about your life.

15).Don’t follow protocol but do stay disciplined.

16).Last but not least, stand up for yourself. Don’t let people’s opinions rule over your life.
Good morning!!
Cheers!!!

Declaration;
I have the life of God in me. I am strong, healthy, sound, and perfect. From the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, I am perfect with the life and nature of God. The Lord is the strength of my life, I want nothing and there’s no weakness in me.

I'm Alive!

❣

You’re not healing because your body still thinks you’re in a warzone.
Yes, even with your green smoothies.
Even with your sea moss and your 5AM journaling.
Even with all the “high-performance” habits you copied from some guy on YouTube.
Let’s stop lying to ourselves.
Healing is not just about food, supplements, or routines.
It’s about safety.
And some of you are still sleeping beside what your body sees as a threat.
A man you don’t trust.
A woman with venom as potent as black mamba.
A job that’s killing your soul.
A house that feels like trauma in wallpaper form.
You think your problem is your gut?
It’s not just your gut.
It’s your nervous system.
Your body is still bracing.
Still waiting for the next shout.
The next slap.
The next betrayal.
The next emotional landmine.
So, you’re bloated.
You’re not ovulating.
Your digestion is trash.
Your libido is gone.
Your cortisol is always high.
Your sleep is a joke.
Because your biology is not ******.
It won’t heal in danger.
And safety is not a Pinterest board—it’s a signal.
You want to heal?
Ask yourself:
– Do I feel safe in this body?
– Do I feel safe in this bed?
– Do I feel safe in this life?
Because until the answer is YES…
Your healing will remain halfway.
Your hormones will keep fighting you.
Your organs will keep holding their breath.
You can’t meditate your way out of a toxic marriage.
You can’t supplement your way through chronic disrespect.
You can’t turmeric your way through emotional neglect.
Sometimes the cure is not another protocol.
It’s leaving the damn room.
Your body has been whispering.
Now it’s screaming.
Create safety.
Not just strategy.
Not just schedules.
Safety.
That’s where healing begins.

Banny❣

THE DEVIL'S MISTRESS
PART 13
The past month had been a balm, a deep, golden reprieve after the tempest of Amanda. Sunlight seemed brighter in the penthouse, laughter came easier, and the love between Jessica and Scar felt like a fortress rebuilt stronger on the ruins of distrust. They were inseparable. Mornings lingered over shared coffee and murmured plans. Evenings were spent entwined on the sofa, Jessica reading law texts while Scar reviewed encrypted reports, his hand perpetually resting on her knee or playing with a strand of her long, dark hair. He’d taken to calling her "Counselor" with a teasing glint in his eyes, a constant, warm reminder of his investment in her future. The shadow of Amanda felt distant, a bad dream fading in the dawn of their renewed intimacy.
This particular morning bloomed with deceptive serenity. Sunlight streamed through the expansive windows, painting warm diamonds on the polished floor. Jessica, humming softly, prepared two cups of strong, dark coffee – Scar’s favorite, brewed just the way he liked it. She carried them to the balcony where he sat, immersed in a financial ledger, the Lagos skyline a glittering backdrop. He looked up as she approached, his stern features instantly softening into the smile reserved only for her. He pulled her down for a quick, tender kiss.
"Morning, Counselor," he murmured, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. "Smells perfect."
"It is," Jessica smiled, placing his cup before him. She settled into the adjacent chair, cradling her own cup, savoring the rich aroma and the peaceful domesticity. For a few blissful minutes, they sipped in companionable silence, the city’s hum a distant lullaby.
Then, the world shattered.
A choked gasp tore from Scar’s throat. Jessica looked over, startled. His face had gone unnaturally pale, a sickly grey undertone replacing his healthy complexion. His coffee cup clattered to the marble floor, shattering, dark liquid spreading like a stain. His hand flew to his throat, his eyes wide with a sudden, terrifying confusion.
"Sebastian?" Jessica breathed, frozen for a heartbeat.
He lurched forward, gagging violently. A thin stream of white, frothy foam bubbled from the corner of his lips. His body convulsed, muscles locking in agonizing spasms. He crashed sideways off the chair, hitting the balcony floor with a sickening thud, his limbs jerking uncontrollably.
Panic, pure and primal, seized Jessica. "SEBASTIAN!" she screamed, the sound tearing her throat. She scrambled towards him, her hands fluttering uselessly over his convulsing form. The white foam was thicker now, coating his chin. His eyes rolled back, showing the whites. "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!"
The penthouse exploded into chaos. Heavy footsteps pounded. William burst onto the balcony first, his face draining of color at the sight of his boss writhing on the floor, choking on foam. Ghost, a silent, perpetually watchful presence whose loyalty was unquestioned, materialized beside him, his dark eyes instantly assessing the scene with chilling calm. Two more guards followed, their expressions grim.
"Poison!" William snarled, dropping to his knees beside Scar. "Get the medical team! NOW!" One guard sprinted back inside, shouting into his comms.
Ghost efficiently helped William roll Scar onto his side, trying to clear his airway as he gagged and choked. Jessica knelt beside them, tears streaming down her face, her hands trembling as she tried to wipe the foam from his mouth. "Hold on, Sebastian! Please hold on!"
Within minutes, the penthouse became a triage zone. Scar’s private medical team arrived, moving with grim efficiency. They administered oxygen, injected emergency medications to counteract the convulsions, and stabilized him for transport. As they lifted him onto a stretcher, his body still twitching, his skin clammy and grey, Jessica felt a piece of her soul tear away. She tried to follow, clutching his limp hand.
"Where are you taking him? I need to be with him!" she pleaded.
"The hospital. Our facility," William said tersely, his face etched with worry and suspicion. "Stay here, Jessica." His tone held a command she’d never heard directed at her before.
The journey to Scar’s private, high-security hospital wing was a blur of flashing lights and suffocating dread. Jessica rode in a separate car, flanked by guards, her mind racing. *Poisoned.* The word echoed like a death knell. *How? When?* Her thoughts snagged, horrifyingly, on the image of the coffee cup. *She* had made it. *She* had handed it to him. *She* was the last person to touch it before he drank.
The sterile, cold air of the hospital corridor did nothing to calm the rising hysteria. Doctors rushed Scar into an emergency room, shutting the doors firmly. Jessica paced, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, feeling exposed and terrified. William and Ghost stood nearby, their expressions unreadable, communicating in low tones with other arriving lieutenants.
Suddenly, the tense silence was shattered by the sharp click of stiletto heels on the polished floor. Amanda. She strode down the corridor like a vengeful goddess, dressed in a sleek black pantsuit, her blonde curls impeccable, her face a mask of icy fury.
She stopped inches from Jessica, her dark eyes blazing with pure malice. "You," she spat, the word dripping venom. "You poisonous little SLUT!"
Jessica flinched, taking a step back. "Amanda, this isn't—"
"Shut your filthy mouth!" Amanda hissed, her voice low but carrying through the corridor. "You couldn't stand that he was mine! Couldn't stand that he sent you away! So you tried to kill him!" She leaned in, her voice dropping to a chilling whisper only Jessica could hear. "But don't worry, gutter rat. When he dies – and he will die – I'll make sure you suffer slowly. Very, very slowly. I'll peel the skin from your bones myself."
The raw hatred in Amanda’s eyes was terrifying. Before Jessica could react, Amanda raised her voice, projecting it to the gathered men. "Look at her! She made his coffee! She was alone with him! She's the only one who wanted him dead! SHE POISONED HIM!"
The accusation hung in the air, toxic and heavy. Eyes turned towards Jessica – William’s gaze hardened, others narrowed with suspicion. The seed of doubt Amanda planted found fertile ground in the fear and anger already swirling around them.
"Take her," William ordered, his voice cold, devoid of its usual respect. "Secure her. Now."
Strong hands clamped onto Jessica’s arms. "No! I didn't! I would never!" she cried, struggling futilely against the grip of two burly guards. "It was her! She did this! She threatened him! She threatened me!"
Amanda laughed, a sharp, brittle sound. "Lies! Desperate lies from a murderer! Lock her up!"
As Jessica was dragged away, kicking and pleading, her eyes locked with Ghost’s. His expression was inscrutable, but for a fleeting second, she saw something – not suspicion, but intense calculation. He gave her the faintest, almost imperceptible nod, then turned his attention back to the emergency room doors.
Jessica was shoved into a small, sterile holding room within the hospital, guarded heavily. Despair washed over her. Sebastian was dying. Everyone believed she’d done it. Amanda had won. Panic surged. Her family! Amanda knew where they lived! She fumbled for the phone she’d been allowed to keep, frantically dialing her mother.
"Mama!" she sobbed when the call connected. "Listen! You have to leave! Right now! Take everyone and run! Go somewhere safe! Don't tell anyone! Amanda… she… Sebastian’s poisoned… they think I did it… she’ll come for you! PLEASE RUN!"
Her mother’s voice was thick with terror and confusion. "Jessica! What? Poisoned? Baby—"
"NO TIME! RUN! NOW!" Jessica screamed before the call was abruptly cut off. One of the guards outside had heard and seized her phone.
Minutes later, William stormed into the room, his face thunderous. "Your family," he stated coldly. "They won't be going anywhere. They’re under protective custody. House arrest. For their own safety… and ours." The implication was clear: they were hostages, leverage against her.
Jessica crumpled onto the hard cot, her world reduced to crushing fear and helplessness. Sebastian was fighting for his life. Her family was imprisoned. She was branded a traitor and a murderer. And Amanda was free, weaving her web of lies.
Hours crawled by. Night fell. The hospital corridor outside her door was quiet now, only the low murmur of guards remained. Jessica sat in the dark, hugging her knees, tears long since dried, replaced by a cold, simmering fury and a gnawing terror for Sebastian. Was he still alive? Had the poison…?
The lock on her door clicked softly. It opened just enough for a shadow to slip inside. Ghost. He moved like smoke, closing the door silently behind him. His face was grim in the dim light filtering under the door.
"Miss Jessica," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "We don't have much time."
Her heart leaped into her throat. "Ghost? Sebastian? Is he—"
"Alive. But in a coma. Critical." Ghost’s words were clipped. "They’re setting you up. Amanda’s playing them all. William… he’s blinded by anger and fear for the Boss. Others are listening to her whispers."
"Ghost, I swear, I didn't—"
"I know," he interrupted, his dark eyes holding hers with unnerving intensity. "The Boss trusts you. That’s enough for me. But you can't stay here. They'll kill you before morning, or hand you to Amanda. And your family… they’re not safe either."
"What do I do?" Jessica whispered, desperation clawing at her.
"We get you out. Now." Ghost pulled a dark hoodie and a pair of nondescript trousers from a small bag. "Put these on. Quickly. We go out the service elevator, through the basement. I have a car."
"But my family! Sebastian!"
"I can't get to your family yet. Too guarded. But alive, free, you have a chance to clear your name, to find the real traitor, to help the Boss," Ghost insisted, urgency hardening his voice. "Staying is death. For you, and eventually, for them. Come on!"
Driven by terror and a fierce spark of hope ignited by Ghost’s loyalty, Jessica scrambled into the clothes. Ghost guided her silently past the guard he’d discreetly incapacitated, through deserted corridors and down service stairs. The humid night air of Lagos hit her face as they slipped out a loading dock door. A battered, unremarkable sedan idled in the shadows. Ghost shoved her into the passenger seat, slammed the door, and peeled away into the chaotic Lagos night.
Jessica stared out the window, the city lights blurring through fresh tears. Sebastian was in a coma. Her family were prisoners. The man she loved might never know she was innocent. Amanda had framed her perfectly. And somewhere, hidden among the men Scar trusted most, was a traitor who had poisoned him and nearly destroyed everything.
Ghost navigated the streets with tense precision. "Where are we going?" Jessica asked, her voice small.
"Somewhere safe. Off-grid," Ghost replied, his eyes scanning the mirrors. "We need to disappear. And we need to find out who did this. Before it's too late for everyone."
The car sped into the darkness, carrying Jessica away from the hospital, away from Sebastian’s side, away from everything she loved. She was a fugitive, branded a murderer, hunted by her lover’s men, and stalked by his vengeful ex. Her only ally was a shadow named Ghost. The fight for their lives, for their love, and for the truth had just begun, and it was a fight Jessica had to win from the shadows. The question wasn't just *who* poisoned Scar, but *who* would believe her innocence when even the man she loved was lost in a silent, poisoned sleep?
TO BE CONTINUED..

‭Isaiah 53:5 KJV‬
But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.

Words can't express how happy I am for myself and how grateful I am to the author and finisher of my faith, God Almighty for giving me this great opportunity to participate in this wonder if a film master class organized by Onyx Empire Media and it's humble CEO, Director Udeme Gabriel Etim. I am immensely grateful to you director
May God continue to bless you and reward you bountifully. By God's grace, this is just a step towards the main goal. Congratulations to myself and more big wins and celebrations to me in the name of Jesus Christ
Amen

You’re not healing because your body still thinks you’re in a warzone.
Yes, even with your green smoothies.
Even with your sea moss and your 5AM journaling.
Even with all the “high-performance” habits you copied from some guy on YouTube.
Let’s stop lying to ourselves.
Healing is not just about food, supplements, or routines.
It’s about safety.
And some of you are still sleeping beside what your body sees as a threat.
A man you don’t trust.
A woman with venom as potent as black mamba.
A job that’s killing your soul.
A house that feels like trauma in wallpaper form.
You think your problem is your gut?
It’s not just your gut.
It’s your nervous system.
Your body is still bracing.
Still waiting for the next shout.
The next slap.
The next betrayal.
The next emotional landmine.
So, you’re bloated.
You’re not ovulating.
Your digestion is trash.
Your libido is gone.
Your cortisol is always high.
Your sleep is a joke.
Because your biology is not ******.
It won’t heal in danger.
And safety is not a Pinterest board—it’s a signal.
You want to heal?
Ask yourself:
– Do I feel safe in this body?
– Do I feel safe in this bed?
– Do I feel safe in this life?
Because until the answer is YES…
Your healing will remain halfway.
Your hormones will keep fighting you.
Your organs will keep holding their breath.
You can’t meditate your way out of a toxic marriage.
You can’t supplement your way through chronic disrespect.
You can’t turmeric your way through emotional neglect.
Sometimes the cure is not another protocol.
It’s leaving the damn room.
Your body has been whispering.
Now it’s screaming.
Create safety.
Not just strategy.
Not just schedules.
Safety.
That’s where healing begins.

❣