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Writer @ Writer school
And Another One Bites the Dust…(Grim Reaper’s Lore)💀🏴☠️
<p><em><del>Oh…..Hi</del></em></p><p><em>It’s me — “<strong>Grim, the Reaper</strong>”. You may also call me the “<strong>Taker”</strong>. Some prefer simply “</em><strong><em>Death</em><em style="text-decoration: line-through;">”</em></strong><em>. Either way, I am known… and, in my own way, revered.</em></p><p><br/></p><p>I am not here to frighten you — only to take you on a little escapade. A quiet killing spree, if you will. I implore you: remain calm. Walk through history with me while I carry out the task I was assigned.</p><p><br/></p><p>⸻</p><p><br/></p><p><strong>Today</strong>;</p><p>I shall make my way to Ma. Alekuwodo’s house. It is her appointed season. She has been praying for my arrival ever since she sustained that back injury in April 2010. Pain has worn her thin. I will answer her silent plea gently.</p><p><br/></p><p><strong>Tomorrow</strong>;</p><p>I will visit Mr. Onakewa Alex at “Adapting Boys and Girls” Secondary School, where he serves as principal. His final bell has rung. Caught in disgrace — preying on the innocence of young girls after school hours — his chapter closes under my watch.</p><p><br/></p><p><strong>The day after;</strong></p><p>I shall stop by Isaac Indigo Brown’s residence — though I won’t need to knock. He lies suspended between worlds after a ghastly accident. Drinking and driving has written his fate in harsh ink. Still in a coma… I will simply pick him up. No struggle. No noise.</p><p><br/></p><p><strong>And then</strong>;</p><p>Ijajeno community awaits my presence. Their Chief Head, Mr. Godswill Aposame, has been marked. No scandal. No spectacle. No reason beyond the oldest law of all — it is simply his time to be whisked away.</p><p><br/></p><p><strong>Soon after</strong>;</p><p>I will ride to David Alabi Agbotijesu’s home — a twelve-year-old boy who fell from his school’s twelve-story building on 12/12/2012. Since that day, he has lingered on the thinnest line between heaven and earth. When I arrive, that fragile thread shall finally give way. He will walk beside me.</p><p><br/></p><p>⸻</p><p><br/></p><p><strong>A minute later,</strong></p><p>I shall ascend to my Master, submit my report, and receive His solemn nod — perhaps even His raiment of praise — before I am sent forth again.</p><p><br/></p><p>That will be all…</p><p><br/></p><p>But never truly all.</p><p><br/></p><p>It never ends, does it?</p><p><br/></p><p>I wonder.</p><p><br/></p>
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