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mido stories, No 49 Idimepen Street, Owo (2026)

13/06/2025

BLOOD AND STATUE

Chapter One: The Choice

In the heart of Lagos, where wealth lined the streets like golden dust and secrets festered behind high compound walls, the Adeyemi family name echoed with pride. Chief Adeyemi, patriarch of the family, was a retired politician turned real estate mogul. He had two daughters: Amira, the elder, graceful and reserved, and Bimpe, fiery, outspoken, and fiercely independent.

Then came Tade Alade, a billionaire tech entrepreneur, bachelor, and toast of the nation. He had seen Amira at a charity gala and was immediately enchanted. He courted her quietly, with quiet lunches, high-end gifts, and the respect of her parents. Within three months, he asked for her hand.

The Adeyemi family, thrilled at the alliance, accepted without hesitation. But Bimpe… she wasn't happy.

"You’re not marrying him for love, are you?" she asked Amira.

Amira, eyes lowered, said nothing.

Chapter Two: A Bitter Trade

On the day of the engagement, Chief Adeyemi gathered his family. What he said changed Bimpe’s life forever.

“We’ve agreed with Tade’s family that Amira will marry him… but Tade has one condition. Bimpe must also marry—”

“Who?” Bimpe cut in sharply.

Chief’s voice faltered. “Our gateman… Musa.”

The room fell silent.

Amira gasped. “Daddy, no!”

Bimpe’s voice cracked. “You’re giving me to a gateman? For what? Am I a bargaining chip?”

Chief’s eyes darkened. “You don’t understand. Musa saved my life once. This is a debt I must pay.”

“No, this is a punishment,” Bimpe hissed.

But her pleas were ignored. She was forced into the marriage, under pressure, threats, and shame.

Chapter Three: The Wedding Day

Tade and Amira’s wedding was the event of the year: celebrities, dignitaries, and luxury beyond measure.

Bimpe’s wedding happened in the servants’ quarters, quiet and raw. Musa, kind-eyed but broken by years of poverty, held her hands gently, apologizing under his breath.

“I didn’t ask for this,” he said.

“Neither did I.”

That night, Bimpe sat alone, crying into her pillow. She had lost her freedom, her dignity—and worst of all, her sister.

Chapter Four: What Comes Around

Months passed.

Tade began to change. He controlled Amira’s every move—what she wore, who she spoke to, even when she smiled. Behind the gates of their mansion, he was cold, manipulative, and eventually violent. The love story became a gilded cage.

Meanwhile, Bimpe, stuck in the servants’ quarters, began to see Musa for who he really was: gentle, intelligent, thoughtful. A man who had once been in university but dropped out to care for his sick mother.

They started to talk. Then laugh. Then care.

Chapter Five: Truth and Fire

One rainy night, Amira showed up at Bimpe’s door. Her face was bruised, her hands shaking.

“I need to leave him,” she whispered.

Bimpe held her, tears falling silently. “Then we leave together.”

That night, with Musa’s help, they escaped—Amira from abuse, Bimpe from oppression. They moved to Ibadan, where no one knew their names.

Musa opened a repair shop. Bimpe enrolled in law school. Amira found work at a women’s shelter, helping others like herself.

Epilogue: Blood is Not Enough

Two years later, news broke: Tade was arrested for fraud. Chief Adeyemi died of a stroke soon after. The family’s name, once shining, was now buried in scandal.

But in a small, peaceful home in Ibadan, two sisters laughed over dinner. One married to a man once called a gateman, but who had become her peace. The other, healing, and finding her voice.

Blood may bind, but respect, freedom, and love are what truly make a family.

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24/05/2025

THE CURSE OF THE DOG- MAN

Episode 3: The Beast Who Watches

The fire burned low in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the wooden walls of the forest hut. Outside, the wind rustled the trees in hushed murmurs, but inside, all was still—except for the sound of the beast’s breathing.

Adaora sat stiffly, barely able to move her gaze away from the creature inside the cage.

It had knelt before her, head bowed, golden eyes still locked on hers. The beast, terrifying and twisted, was supposed to be mindless. But in that moment, she saw something human in it… something broken, restrained.

Hours passed.

The beast never slept, never growled, never made a move toward escape. It just watched her.

By dawn, the transformation began again—this time in reverse. Bones cracked, fur withdrew, and the creature shrank into a man, curled naked and shaking on the floor of the cage.

Adaora quickly looked away, fetching the blanket he had left by the door.

When he emerged, clothed and silent, she asked softly, “Do you remember anything?”

Eze-Nkita looked at her, ashamed. “Only flashes. I saw you. I… knelt. I have never done that before.”

“Why did you?”

He turned toward the window. “Because something in you quieted the storm.”

Over the next few days, their lives settled into a strange rhythm. Eze-Nkita taught her how to brew ancient herbs and decipher the runes carved into the forest trees. In turn, she shared stories of the village, sang old songs, and once even made him laugh.

But always, the nights came.

And with them, the change.

Each time, the beast returned.

Each time, it knelt.

Until one night, something changed.

---

That evening, Adaora was sitting near the fire reading an old scroll when the air around her suddenly grew cold. A strange breeze pushed through the hut, though the windows were shut.

The door creaked open on its own.

Then, a voice—not the beast’s, not the man’s—but something older, whispered from the shadows:

“The bond has begun. The choice must be made.”

Adaora jumped to her feet. “Who’s there?!”

No reply.

But Eze-Nkita heard it too. He stumbled toward her, his transformation half-complete, his face torn between beast and man.

“That voice… it hasn’t spoken in years.”

Adaora grabbed his arm. “What bond? What choice?”

He held her gaze, eyes burning gold. “The curse was never about punishment. It was about love… and sacrifice. Either you accept me as I am—man and monster—or I fall fully to the beast.”

She staggered back. “That’s not fair!”

“It never was.”

That night, the beast did not go into the cage.

And Adaora did not run.

She sat before it… and sang.

A lullaby her mother used to sing.

The beast growled low—but did not strike.

Instead, it laid its great head on the ground and… wept.

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13/05/2025

THE CURSE OF THE DOG-MAN

Episode 2: The Forest Bride

The sun had barely risen when the villagers gathered in the square. Adaora, dressed in a simple white wrapper with coral beads around her neck and wrists, stood surrounded by elders. Her eyes were empty. The air buzzed with tension, a thick blanket of dread no one dared to lift.

“She walks in light,” chanted the priestess, “so she may descend into darkness.”

Women wept quietly. Children clung to their mothers. The men bowed their heads, ashamed that tradition demanded such sacrifice.

Adaora’s hands were bound loosely—not to restrain her, but to symbolize her surrender to fate. Her closest friend, Ifunanya, tried to hold back tears. “Why you, Adaora? You were meant for more than this… You were meant for the world.”

“I don’t believe this is the end,” Adaora whispered. “Something inside me says this is just the beginning.”

Four men carried her on a wooden palanquin as they made their way to the Forest Path, a place no one ever dared enter. The villagers stopped at the edge, afraid to go further.

The priestess stepped forward. “From here, she walks alone.”

With a deep breath, Adaora stepped into the forest.

The thick trees closed behind her like jaws. No wind. No birdsong. Just silence.

She walked until twilight. Then she saw it—a hut made of black wood, woven with vines that shimmered faintly in the dying light. Smoke curled from its chimney. It smelled of something ancient and magical.

As she approached, the door creaked open on its own.

A man stood there.

He was tall, wrapped in dark robes. His skin was pale—strangely pale for someone of her land—and his eyes were a piercing gray. His voice was low, controlled, yet heavy with loneliness.

“I am Eze-Nkita. You are my bride.”

Adaora stared at him, unafraid. “You don’t look like a beast.”

He looked away. “Wait until nightfall.”

She was led inside. The hut was warm, filled with strange herbs, old books, and carvings of wolves and moons. A second room had a large cage, empty but stained.

“You lock yourself in there?” she asked.

He nodded. “For your safety. At sunset, I change. I have no memory of myself until dawn.”

“Why do you look like a man now?”

“Because the curse allows me to live two lives. But I am trapped in both.”

Night fell.

Eze-Nkita walked into the cage and latched the iron door himself. Adaora sat by the fire, heart racing. The transformation began with a cry—a sound between agony and rage. She watched as his body twisted, bones cracking, muscles expanding, fur ripping through his skin.

The thing in the cage was not human. It was tall, monstrous, with golden eyes that locked on hers.

It howled.

But it did not attack.

It simply stared.

And she… stared back.

For the first time in history, the Dog-Man didn’t rage against the bars.

He knelt.

Like a servant before a queen.

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12/05/2025

THE CURSE OF A DOG-MAN

Episode 1: The Prophecy Returns

The morning mist clung to the earth like a reluctant goodbye, refusing to let the rising sun claim the day. In the village of Umuokoro, life had always followed the rhythm of the land: planting, harvesting, festivals, and prayers to the spirits. But on that day, an unfamiliar silence gripped the air.

Adaora stood near the well, drawing water with a clay pot balanced on her hip. At eighteen, she was known throughout the village for her rare beauty—dark skin glowing like polished mahogany, bright eyes that held both curiosity and defiance. More than beauty, she possessed a rare intelligence that set her apart. She had learned the art of herbs and midwifery from her grandmother and often treated the sick when the local healer was away.

But that morning, something was wrong. The village square had been filled with whispers, elders in hurried meetings, and the shrine keeper had lit incense—not the type used for prayer, but the kind used during dark omens.

When Adaora returned home, her father, Okeke, was waiting at the entrance, his face lined with sorrow.

“Adaora,” he said, voice trembling, “the prophecy has returned.”

She dropped the pot. It shattered at her feet.

“What prophecy?” she asked, already dreading the answer.

“The curse of Eze-Nkita. The time has come again. The oracle has spoken.”

Adaora backed away. “No. That was an old tale. A myth meant to scare children!”

“No, child,” her mother said softly, appearing behind them with red eyes. “Every fifty years, a maiden must be married to the Dog-Man, or the wrath of the forest spirit will return. The last marriage was fifty years ago. The lot has been cast. And... the gods chose you.”

Adaora’s world tilted.

Why me? Why now?

She ran to the shrine, demanding answers from the village priestess. The old woman simply handed her a scroll—torn, ancient, and smeared with blood. It read:

“From fire and fang he rises again. The maiden marked by flame will be his key. Willing heart, or cursed land—such is the choice.”

“I am not willing!” Adaora shouted.

“But you are marked,” the priestess said, pointing to a birthmark on Adaora’s shoulder. It was shaped like a flame. She had always thought it beautiful.

That night, the drums of mourning were beaten in the village—not for the dead, but for Adaora’s freedom.

Far beyond the village, deep in the sacred forest, a pair of eyes—human by day, beast by night—opened with a growl.

The time had come.

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