FunReads

There’s a difference between talking… and being listened to.

Imagine you’re in a meeting where everybody is complaining aggressively about electricity problems in your area.

One person stands up shouting:
“Government is useless! Nothing works!”

People clap for a few seconds.

Then another person stands up calmly and says:

“Good evening everyone.
We all know the electricity issue has affected businesses, students, and families here. Instead of only complaining, I think we should organize a documented report showing:

- affected streets,
- transformer conditions,
- and the number of households affected.

If we present facts together as a community, our chances of being taken seriously become higher.”

Suddenly the room becomes quieter.

Why?

Because people listen more when:

- you sound clear,
- respectful,
- solution-oriented,
- and emotionally controlled.

Sometimes the loudest person in the room is not the most influential.

The person who speaks with calm structure often carries more weight.

Big shout out to my newest top fans! Tina Ganta

I sat on the edge of my creaking bed, the same way I had every night for the past year, staring blankly at the flickering bulb above. The room I lived in was nearly bare—just this rickety bed, a dusty table I barely used, and a crooked mirror hanging on the wall like it was tired of reflecting my failures.

"Life is unfair," I muttered. "Nothing ever works out for me."

I said that a lot—like a ritual. A bitter kind of prayer. I blamed everything and everyone: my parents for not doing more, Nigeria for being broken, even God for being too silent. But never once did I blame myself. Never once did I ask, What part did I play?

That night was different.

I stood to wash my face. The cracked mirror caught my eye, and I paused. Something was off. My reflection—it wasn't moving the way I moved. It looked me dead in the eye, steady, knowing.

Then it spoke.

"Don’t complain about your life," it said, calm but sharp, "when you are the one who is handling it."

My heart almost stopped.

"What?" I whispered.

"You say life is hard, but you hit snooze ten times every morning. You claim you’re stuck, yet you never commit to anything for more than a week. You ask for open doors, yet ignore the small ones already cracked open."

I stepped back, trembling. This had to be a dream. Or madness.

"You complain," the mirror said again, "but you're the one holding the wheel. You just pretend you're not."

The light above me blinked once, then went out.

That night I didn't sleep well. But in the morning, I didn’t press snooze. I got up. I made a plan. I pulled out my old laptop, opened half-written stories, and started writing again. I signed up on freelancing sites. I failed the first few times. But I didn’t stop.

The mirror never spoke again. But I didn’t need it to.

Because the words stayed with me—echoing in the silence:
“Don’t complain about your life when you are the one who is handling it.”

With Akachukwu God'swill Paul Agudosi – I just got recognised as one of their top fans!

Shout out to my newest followers! Excited to have you onboard! Dan Smartino, Maka Pela De Don, Angela Shine

Big shout-out to my newest top fans! Tina Ganta

The Wrong Room

Its Friday night and Sarah just got back to her apartment after a long day’s work and she wanted to get inside and rest. She was about to pull out her keys and unlock the door, but she noticed it’s open. Turning the doorknob and stepping inside, she notices something different. She stood in the doorway trying to figure it out. then it hits her, this isn’t her room. As she turned to leave, something caught her eye. There is a man hunched over a dish of flesh, eating it with his bare hands, tearing into it as a wild animal would with its prey. Red dripped down the side of his mouth, and the smell that emanated from it was sickening. Sarah was paralysed by the sight.
Unconsciously, she covered her nose and mouth. She accidentally bumps her elbow against the doorway. She froze. The hunchback man stopped eating, there was something wrong. Then he looked up and started searching for the source of the noise.
His eyes scanned the room till they found Sarah.
Her legs start moving on their own, she found herself running, running away from that room, and the horrors within it.
~~~
The man silently stands up, locks the door, sits back down, grabs another slice of pizza, and mutters quietly to himself:
“Crazy vegans”.
Credit To – Walrus King

Shout out to my newest followers! Excited to have you onboard! Jeff Weikeson, Willer Jr Caniban, Zac N Mirasol