BOOK EXCERPT: Edwin Phylis and the Tales within Darkness by Omoruyi Uwuigiaren

CHAPTER One

Ugly Night

A blanket of blackness descended upon the city. Bats swooped and swirled across the sky, leaving their silhouettes against the moon. The old wizard’s prophecy of tragedy was about to be fulfilled. The Feast of a Thousand Necks was imminent.

Darkness descended upon Dempsey, a ravaged ancient city where godlessness stalked the streets. The hands of despair crippled the day, swallowed smiles and strangled thoughts. Mischief, however, was far from over. In this world of penitent dogs, the destiny of many rested on the shoulders of the bravest. Fate cuts off the weak. The mighty have fallen. No one takes anything to chance. Life fades on the face of the beautiful earth. 

He who dares to win must not hesitate to wield his sword. The sword of honour, the pain of sorrow and the gain of valour are on a different level. But they all answer the call of man. Death is inevitable, but a swift strike might offer a chance for survival. To hold back his weapon is to surrender his neck to a death that would unleash its venomous instinct, leaving only a trail of waste in its wake. Only the strong and obedient could endure the horrors of a night pregnant with evil intentions.

Twig, my shrewd and slim neighbour, was a prodigious snorer. His nocturnal symphonies reached Olympian heights and disrupted the tranquility of the surrounding area. In the realm, perhaps such cacophony was a curious anomaly. But in my world, it was a significant disturbance. Sheer dominance from the corridors of hell. 

Restlessness permeated the air as I struggled to sleep. My eyes are heavy, and my body is drowning. The malevolent forces lurking in the troubled village exploited my vulnerability. 

I yearned for solace that would ease the strain on my weary eyes. Milk me or kill me. Once peace arrived, I would be more resilient than a fugitive facing an uncertain future. When happiness assumed control of my life, I embraced joy. I prayed comfort would soon find its rightful place within my heart. Living in peace is power, and silence is a thorn in the flesh of my critics.

 A rare battle raged within me. Of conviction, of identity. Few write in stone. On one hand, the common struggle of those who have achieved success. The disappointment of having no achievements on the table. Wastelands are better. Dunghills are paradise. My poor soul was in the middle of both extremes. Flirting from one end to another, searching for what was never missing. Sometimes, merely gazing into space could be problematic. But everyday it’s an achievement to open my eyes upon the light of the world. Count my blessings. Fix my pain and choose my Maker. It’s a free world. But it’s a war without end. I die to live. I live to die. 

Leaders often fill their minds with ambitious plans and innovative ideas that enrich their lives and elevate their status. Yet, my heart harbors a burden—destructive thoughts that threaten to consume me and wreak havoc. These conflicting emotions are tearing me apart. I feel lost, existing in a state of chaos. For a troubled mind, sorrow is an inevitable companion. Evil intentions paved the road to recovery. Hard to please. Hard to admit. Nothing is more terrifying than the loss of one’s self. 

A suffocating silence hung in the air. Green leaves were motionless on the tree branches. 

The moon was in the sky, casting a weak glow over the desolate landscape. A grim reminder of dark days. Accompanied by the stars. Mere embers of their former brilliance offered a skeletal outline of the heavens, and a faded testament to the universe’s grand design.

CHAPTER Two

Maggof

Out of the belly of the night, a monstrous bird, its neck adorned with a severed human head, perched on the roof. No mirth in its eyes, only a cruel, predatory gleam. This creature, a harbinger of doom, is a tyrant whose heart is a barren wasteland devoid of compassion. 

On a day suffused with sorrow, even its mere breath could extinguish the life of a fragile dove. Its eyes, large and malevolent, held a terrifying power, enough to send a hundred men fleeing in terror.

CHAPTER Three

Edwin Phylis

Startled by the unnatural sound, I scanned the darkness, searching for answers and the source of the chilling apparition. A primal instinct warned me to be vigilant, to remain alert to the dangers that lurked in the shadows. As I surveyed the room, my gaze darting from wall to ceiling, a wave of unease washed over me. Finally, I buried my face in the worn-out mattress, sort solace from the unsettling sight. 

The sound, however, seemed to have subsided, and faded into the background like a distant memory. Nothing happened, it seemed. My imagination grabbed me by the neck and pinned me to the wall. While I kicked for it to unhand me, it slammed me on the concrete. I elicited an agonized cry. Misery stared at me. Despair took its toll. Have I fallen from grace? Life and death is an expensive trip. Grab the bait and live. Run away and die. 

I convinced myself it was a mere figment of my imagination, a trick of the wind, a casualty of the tumultuous storm that had raged. The room fell into an eerie silence, a suffocating stillness that pressed down on me. I felt myself being drawn into the abyss, swallowed whole by the encroaching darkness. I yearned for the oblivion of sleep, a respite from the horrors that lurked in the dark. A painful slumber on this rickety bed was preferable to the suffocating embrace of a stranger. An embrace that could end life as a sorcerer’s spell.

CHAPTER Four

Owl

The creature on the roof was ugly. Its face was a roadmap of wrinkles. It shifted like a predator sizing up its prey. There was a chilling cruelty in its every movement, a malevolent intent that could send shivers down any spine. From under its wing, it produced a wicked-looking club. The vicious thorns studding its surface prove its sadistic nature. The king of terror had finally emerged. Ready to hurl blows and thunder at the slightest provocation. 

The creature took a few menacing steps forward, its gaze sweeping across the night like an evening wolf assessing the damage after a bloody hunt. 

A hulking owl, larger than any have ever seen, emerged from the cruel hands of the night, settling onto the roof beside the creature. It was a sight that would have sent chills down the spine of the bravest man. A chilling reminder that the night held far more than just shadows.

The owl rubbed its talons together, and a low, guttural chuckle rumbled in its chest. “Maggof,” Owl said. His voice a chilling whisper, “I trust you haven’t forgotten our agreement?”

Maggof nodded with a smile, twisting his lips. “Indeed,” the creature hissed. “But I see no reason to let this opportunity slip through our claws. When I’m finished with him, he won’t even recognize himself.”

The owl took a predatory step closer. “I trust you won’t deviate from our original plan, Maggof?”

“Of course not,” Maggof said, “But if the need arises... if it’s the only way to ensure our success... well, then eliminating him becomes a necessity. Better to silence him permanently than to risk his vengeance later.”

The owl inhaled and said, “We must adhere to our original plan, Maggof. Time is of the essence. Others will arrive soon.” He then turned and surveyed the scene below. “Who will be the first to enter the room?” He asked, returning his gaze to Maggof, who already held his fist clenched and his formidable club resting on his broad shoulder.

“I will,” Maggof said, lowering his weapon.

“Proceed then,” Owl said. “As I mentioned before, we must resolve this matter tonight. Arad and Kalendah are the sole arbiters of the boy’s destiny.”

“Okay,” Maggof said. 

The owl, whose head was as bad as a poorly decorated coffin, was still watching when Maggof disappeared into the room below.

ABOUT THE BOOK

It starts with strange occurrences in a small room and escalates into a brutal war for survival. Edwin’s quiet life shatters when he realizes the malevolent Maggof and Owl plaguing him are tied to his parents’ tragic deaths. There is no end in sight to his dilemma if he doesn’t bow to Kalendah, the god of his ancestors.

Unaware that his every move is being watched, Edwin must confront the dark forces, including Fagos, the despicable king of bats and Mud the Monster, to uncover the truth and stay alive. Maggof says if Edwin doesn’t find out why his parents died, he will follow them to the grave. But this isn’t just any boy, Edwin possesses a unique quality, though whether its sorcery remains to be seen.

The fight with Maggof is only the beginning of sorrow. One morning, after eating a bird, something inexplicably transported Edwin to another world. He met Mud, the Monster who didn’t like him. The creature sorts every opportunity to kill him. Edwin left a town with two companions, Goosef and an old friend who prefers to remain in the shadows. The journey takes him back to where it all began.

What separates Edwin Phylis and his destiny is a formidable forest where trees resist anyone not allied with them. Goosef, however, knows how to speak their language, and Edwin will need patience to master this art.

In order to protect his foster father, Twig, Klause will be tempted to take up arms. If he does, it will reignite an old rivalry on many fronts. Klause is never in the good books of Maggof and Owl. It is only a matter of time before they clash again. Meanwhile, two sinister figures from the underworld, Arad and Kalendah (four headed beast), know Edwin’s true destiny and will stop at nothing to ensure he never becomes the powerful force they fear.

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BOOK EXCERPT: The Farmhouse by Omoruyi Uwuigiaren

Chapter One

The Family

`Once upon a time in the old town of Gid, an old farmer called Erasmus had a horse and a son. The boy’s name was Jason, and the horse was Francis. They lived in a farmhouse, and Francis took them everywhere they went.

The farmer had no wife. She died after Jason was born. Erasmus vowed never to remarry and had remained a widower ever since. Taking care of Jason and Francis alone was never easy, but the farmer promised his late wife on her deathbed that he was going to raise Jason into a fine man.

One sad morning, the cockerel said it was dawn. The disturbance woke Jason. The boy stormed out of sleep. He removed the blanket and rolled out of bed. He went to the window and peered out. The weather was clear, and the boughs of trees bowed and danced to the sweet movement of the morning breeze. Jason liked the morning, and then he carried himself to the sitting room, where his father was on his knees saying his morning prayers. Erasmus was praying silently as Jason knelt down near him. He bowed his head, placed his hands together and closed his eyes. He prayed too. Once the man was done with prayers, he rose to his feet and sat on the chair. Jason also rose and sat beside his father. Erasmus stroked his head with his palm that was as hard as the back of a turtle. “How was your night, son?” he asked.

“It was great, Dad. Good morning,” the boy said.

“Good morning, my boy. I am hungry. Go check the horse while I prepare our breakfast,” Erasmus said. He stretched his body.

“Okay,” Jason jumped to his feet. He walked out of the house with his trousers loose at his waist. The boy carried himself to the stable. His duty every morning was to feed Francis the horse. And clean the stable. Now, Jason got to the stable with his eyes and mouth widened in surprise. Francis was not in the stable. “What happened to the horse?” he thought. He walked about. Something broke the stable. He searched everywhere on the farm and did not find Francis. Frustrated, Jason hurried to the house.

Erasmus had fried some eggs and was at the kitchen table when Jason broke in. “Dad, we have a problem!”

“What is it?” Chewing, Erasmus shot a glance at his son.

Disgruntled, Jason said, “I can’t find Francis!”

“What do you mean you can’t find Francis?”

“Our horse is missing!”

“Francis?” Erasmus jumped to his feet. “He can’t do that. Did you feed him last night?”

“Yes! I even doubled his ration,” Jason said.

His countenance fell. Erasmus shook his head. “It will be a disaster if he is truly gone!” He wiped his hands with his handkerchief and hurried out of the kitchen. He ran out of the house and faced the way to the stable with Jason by his side. Not long after, they arrived at the stable. Jason was right. The horse was gone. Erasmus collapsed onto a bench in the stable.

“What must have gone wrong? Francis has never run away.” He hissed as his son looked on. “We have a big problem now, Jason. I have a meeting to attend this afternoon. It is an immense distance from here!”

“I don’t think it is a problem. Send them a note that you cannot make it,” Jason said.

Erasmus raised his head. He wore a frown and glanced at his son. He was too young and did not know what’s going on. “I am the secretary. I must be there. Besides, today’s meeting is all about me. I applied for a loan to buy some fertilizer.

I must be there to sign the papers to get the loan. My fear is that if I do not attend the meeting today, I may not get the loan this month. They will push my application forward to next month. And the planting season is upon us!”

Jason took a deep breath. He said, “This is difficult. You must be there. What do we do now?”

“I will leave right away. The meeting starts at two o'clock in the afternoon. Hopefully, if I leave before nine, I should be there before the meeting starts.”

Jason lowered his head. He said, “Sorry, Dad. It was my fault. If I had woken up earlier, I would have stopped Francis from running away.”

Erasmus gave him a hug. “It is not your fault, my boy. I think Francis was tired of the farm. He wanted to see the world. We shall have some money to buy another horse. Let’s go eat our breakfast.” Erasmus rose from the bench. He placed his hands on his son’s shoulders and they walked back to the house.

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BOOK EXCERPT: COMING HOME BY OMORUYI UWUIGIAREN

Dalmos didn't just save her life; he became her silent guardian, shielding her from the crushing weight of medical bills and the trauma of her past. When Lizzy reaches out to thank her mysterious saviour, she expects a formal meeting. Instead, she finds a man drowning in a different kind of silence-the lingering grief of losing his wife to a battle he couldn't win.

In the quiet intimacy of a "party for two," two shattered souls begin to piece themselves back together. Lizzy is running from a toxic past and a brutal assault; Dalmos is hiding from a house filled with echoes. Together, they discover that while the world can be cruel, the right person can make it worth surviving.

Chapter 1

The task at my office wasn't just a project; it was a paper mountain that loomed over my desk, threatening to bury me alive. Every end of the season was like this—a brutal marathon that left me stretched thin, my energy reduced to bare bones. A single mistake could be a painful fatality. I felt trapped, stuck in a hole with no way out.

The misery of the long, hard day’s work clung to me. What was the point of waking up early and lying down late, only to eat the bread of sorrow? The troubles would never end, and getting out from under them felt impossible. I was a ship without a rudder, broken and frustrated. But this job wasn't just a job; it was my purpose, a haven from the dusty, lonely roads that led nowhere. If I had wings, I'd fly far away, but for now, I had to cling to survival and embrace the pain.

The job had made me age significantly. Wrinkles roamed freely on my face. After several hours on the computer, it is time to put the misery behind me. Working without a break can sometimes be a terrible curse. I shut down the computer because it was time to go home. 

Tomorrow is another day. I gathered my bag from the table, took out my makeup materials. Perfectly done makeup would go a long way. I quickly inspected my face in the mirror. My reflection was a roadmap of exhaustion, every line a testament to a year of missed sleep and endless deadlines. Age and frustration have duly served their notice. Wrinkles were competing for every inch of decency and space on my face. I rushed the makeup over them. The light make up seemed to work wonders. The mess all disappeared under the heavy lines of fine layers as my beauty stood taller than the pair of legs that carried me. It was refreshing because it did not appear as if I wore a mask. It was a cherry on the cake.  My body felt like an old farmhouse, well-loved but showing its age, with every new ache and pain a creak in the floorboards.

I shoved everything into my bag, rose to my feet, and walked to the door. The familiar click of the lock and the gentle descent down the stairs felt heavy, each step a reminder of how exhausted I was. I had nothing to lose and nothing much to growl over tomorrow. I had done a sizable chunk of the job today. My handbag hung on my shoulder. Then my legs carried me to the gate. The guards on the night shift were around.

I approached the gate. One guard rose from his corner and threw it open. Masking my frustration with a smile, I waved them goodbye. They waved back in acknowledgment as I carried myself out of the premises. Slowly, the gate slammed shut behind me. 

I was alone on the street. The city hummed a different tune now, the rush-hour traffic replaced by a ghostly quiet. I stood on the corner and took a deep breath, the night air cool on my face. The streetlights flickered, weak and unreliable, and I felt a knot of fear tighten in my stomach. Because of poor maintenance, the street lights are hardly at their best. With nothing better to do, I faced the way home and started off quickly.

As I hastened down the quiet road, hunger struck me with a dreadful sting. I had felt famished all day. The task at the office hindered me from tending to my stomach. At any rate, I could eat a house! I stopped at my favourite restaurant and settled for a befitting meal. Arriving at the restaurant, I found that they had closed for the day, dashing my hope of a good meal. I felt it was odd, but when I glanced at my wristwatch, it was hard to blame them. It was 11 pm. For security reasons, they shouldn’t be open. In this town, things can change quickly. 

I sighed, turned and walked away. I could easily count the number of road users as I approached the bus stop. This was the first time that I would leave the office so late, and I wasn’t happy about it. With the frightening night sky staring at me, I won’t work so late again. Then, my pair of legs carried me to the bus stop, where I hoped to board a bus to my destination. As I stood alone at the bus stop, a bus pulled up in front of me. A police officer sat beside the driver at the wheel. There were two women at the rear. One appeared to be in her late thirties, while the other was in the pool of old age. About three men occupied the seats in the middle. They didn’t look suspicious. The door opened slightly. The conductor, who was as dark as midnight and whose head was like an egg, flung out his head and looked in my direction. “Madam, where are you going?” he asked me.

“I am going to Oshodi,” I answered, not knowing what to expect. My eyes scanned the bus once again. I wanted to be sure that I was not walking into a nightmare. Thieves and kidnappers are always lurking. I don’t want to get hurt. However, the police officer in the front passenger seat made me feel safe in their company. I swallowed hard and asked, “Are you going to Oshodi?”

“Yes, the bus is going that way. You can join us.” The conductor smiled at me.

Without hesitating, I held my bag close to my body and hopped onto the bus. Slowly, the vehicle rolled onto the road. There was a sudden rush of breeze as the bus picked up speed. Going home to meet a lovely family only made me happy.

Chapter 2

The vehicle had barely rolled onto the street when I knew. I had made a terrible mistake. A hand from behind me, I suspected it was one of the women, yanked a handful of my hair, snapping my head back. Then came a sharp, stinging slap that left my cheek on fire. Before I could recover, another person rammed my head into the metal partition behind the driver's seat. A jolt of blinding pain shot through me, and I screamed as something wet and hot trickled down my forehead. Blood. I turned, ready to fight back, but the man beside me was already holding a gun, its cold, dark mouth pointed directly at my face. He pinned me to the seat. "Stay down, madam," he said, his voice flat. "Cooperate and we won't hurt you. But if you act funny, I'll shoot."

I was in a lot of pain. Because I feared for my life, I won’t let this slide so easily. I did not heed his advice to stay quiet or bother if he had a gun pointed to my head. Why would someone humiliate me in the presence of a police officer? I wanted his attention. “Officer, help me! I am being robbed!” I grabbed the metal bar in order to support my troubled frame and banged it so hard. 

“SHUT UP!” The gunman landed a blow on my neck. I growled, clinging so hard to the metal bar. Then he grabbed hold of me and pulled me back to the seat next. “Sit down! Don’t get on my nerves, woman!”

I looked at him with disdain. Terrible creature, he was a monument of insanity. He had a firm square jaw and thin lips hidden under a heavy line of moustache. "What are you doing? Who do you think you are?" I glared at him, fists clenched.

“KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!” he fired back. When his attempt to break my spirit did not work as quickly as he had anticipated, he became agitated. “I have a ravenous appetite. I will hurt you if you don’t stay down.” He punched me in the face. 

Sensing danger if I don’t play along, I calmed down. But he had not finished with me. Then he raised his hand to hit me again. As I hid my face to avoid more injuries to my eyes, the blow that he had intended for my eye barely missed the target and hit my jaw. The punch to my jaw sent a lightning bolt of pain through my teeth and up into my skull. I thought I had lost a tooth. I held my jaw and groaned painfully with an eye on the officer that I thought was going to intervene and save me from the petty thieves.

The police officer barely glanced over his shoulders. “Madam, cooperate with them!” he growled.

“What?” I shook my head. The words hit me harder than the punches. "Cooperate with them." My mind reeled. He was one of them. The cop was a lie, and I had walked right into the trap.

They threw their heads back and laughed aloud.  Their laughter was a chorus of cackles, a cruel sound that echoed in the small space. I tried to figure out how to get out of the mess, but I could not think straight. 

Then the man who wielded the gun paused and asked, “What do you have in your bag?”

I swallowed hard and slowly revealed, “A few things…” The question left an unpleasant taste in my mouth.

The gunman snatched the bag from me and passed it on to his cohort. “Search the bag,” he told the fellow. 

“Alright,” the cohort said and descended on the bag. He searched through my bag quickly. My lipstick became the first casualty of the long night. He brought it out of the bag and flung it out of the window. Next was my little mirror that had followed me nearly everywhere I had gone. He tossed it out of the window. The mirror and the lipstick glued my world together. It pained me dearly that the crook had destroyed them before my very eyes. 

As he tore through the bag, while I watched helplessly, the gunman turned to me and said, “I asked you to cooperate, but you refused.” Before I could blink, he punched me in the face again. He left me with a broken nose. I buried my head between my thighs. My hands covered my mouth. The women at the back laughed. It was a free fall as they started again to beat me. They were going to kill me, and I could not fight back. Now I was sobbing dreadfully, trying not to scream in order not to anger them anymore. 

Then their leader, the man with the gun, said, “Enough! We won’t kill her.” The hand pounding ceased. “What’s in the bag?” 

“Some cash, credit cards and expensive jewelry,” his cohort replied, simpering.

“Ah, smart woman. You are fortunate we found something useful in your bag. You would have paid with your life,” the gunman revealed. “Raise your head. I want to see your battered face!” He cocked his gun and pointed it at me.

Scared that the scum could pull the trigger, I slowly raised my head. My body seemed to hurt everywhere. Oh, I could hardly see beyond my nose. I had a swollen face. I had a black eye, and a broken nose. 

The man who searched the bag brought out a POS machine. He inserted one credit card into the machine. He straightened his chin and said, “Choose your next words carefully. They may be your last. What is your PIN? Tell us quickly!” 

Then I turned to the man who had the machine. I said, “Let me see the credit card. I have two separate pins for the cards in the bag. I need to see which one you inserted so that I don’t give you the wrong pin.”

As the man pulled out the credit card from the machine, the driver slammed his leg on the brake and the bus halted. 

“What is the problem?” the leader asked.

“I think we have a problem!” The driver pointed to a vehicle that was parked in front of us. It was some distance away. “Look over there!” he said. 

We all glanced in the direction. 

“Is that a police van?” the leader, who had the gun, asked.

“I think so,” said the driver.

“This is not in the plan,” the guy with the POS machine said. Now, he was panting like a terrified lizard.

“What do we do now?” the driver asked.

“We need to back off!” the leader stated. 

The man who I thought was a police officer did something strange. He took off his beret and shirt and flung them under his seat. There was panic on the bus as everyone tried to scamper to safety. Getting off the bus in the middle of nowhere and fleeing on their legs was not an option for them.

The driver hissed. He engaged the gear, and the vehicle reversed. I did not like the idea because moving away from the police van meant I was in for a long night. I was worried that they would kill me once they gained access to all the money in my account. 

"Get the things you can lay hands on and get rid of her,” the gunman said. He pushed me to the man by the door. 

They took my handset, some money in the bag and jewelry. The man who had searched my bag grabbed me by the collar of my shirt. He signaled they would open the door. Now the vehicle was moving at top speed. The conductor shoved me toward the open door. The cold wind rushed in, and then I was flying through the air, hitting the rough pavement with a violent, jarring thud. The world went white hot with pain. My bag fell beside me.

The driver turned and sped off. I thought I had lost a vital part of me. But the desire to live made me jump to my feet. I did not check for fracture for fear of what would happen next. I grabbed my bag, faced the direction of the vehicle they thought was a police van and bolted.

Scared, they could change their minds and come back for me. Perhaps with the injuries that I had sustained, I may not survive another round of torture. As I ran fast, looking back at intervals to make sure that they were not in the chase, I tripped and lost my footing. I fell on the concrete and slipped into unconsciousness.

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