Nearly All The Men In Lagos Are Mad Novels & Stories

" Without you, production will not stop! - grinned Lech. When Igor went to the toilet, he saw the same escaped madman. Igor realized that he was the madman the PSC officers were looking for, because he was dressed in the white typical clothes for the third level of the ship. This madman was visibly nervous, but did not seem to Igor to be an aggressive person. Rather, he himself was scared and with despair in voice began talking with Igor: "Don't be afraid of me! I won't hurt you! It's not me you need to fear…

He was practically lazy and had been working his way to Libya since then. I locked our door and hid the key under the foot mat. I stormed to the streets after having a bath. On my way to Layo's house I came across a crowd. In thier midst were two elderly women fighting. No one would dare separate them rather they'll be cheered. Fights in London area are usually entertaining. I was leaving the fight scene when a strange figure pulled my hair. It was Badmus. "Is that not Mama Funke your neighbor? Won't you intervene? " he said. "Badmus I don't have time for this. " I said while trying to leave. "The other woman called Mama Funke an irresponsible mother. She rained curses at her and said she

“This? This is nothing. Wait until you see the roads.” They moved outside to meet the driver who had been sent for them. The heavy air smelled of roasted corn, fried puff-puff, and exhaust fumes. It was intoxicating and overwhelming, tugging her back into a rhythm she had once moved to effortlessly. The drive through Lagos was everything she had warned Liam about, and more. Cars weaved between lanes as though rules were mere suggestions. Street hawkers pressed sachets of water, plantain chips, and phone chargers against the car window, their voices insistent. Billboards loomed overhead, shouting slogans about banks, elections, and miracle churches.

“If we present it as misunderstanding—” Amara interrupted gently: “You mean lie again.” Silence. Zainab’s voice lowered. “You don’t understand pressure—” Amara cut in: “I understand structure.” That ended the conversation emotionally. Not technically. But completely. She ended the call. And blocked the number. For the first time in days, her apartment felt quiet. Not peaceful. Just temporarily uninterested in hurting her. Outside, Lagos moved with its usual arrogance—horns, rain-soaked buses, impatient wealth, struggling ambition. The city had already begun feeding on a new scandal somewhere else.

The hot heavy summer breeze on a Monday morning was the first greeting Elena got coming out of her house. Lagos they said was the city of opportunities and the summer season did nothing to stop or reduce its bubbly runs of bodies brushing and past each other, not even stopping to give as much as a glance. The bodies belonging to workers of every sort, rushing down the alley to get to their works, students either bouncing with joy to be back to school again or the ones that cat walked, dragging their feet's on the floor like the school is the last place they'll want to be.

Do you understand how that feels? I am not suicidal neither do I see myself as a failure. In other ways, though, support groups in Lagos is not as bad as I had imagined. The first day I attended the support group, a young man stood up and poured out his heart. He touched a lot of issues I haven't seen someone touch before in my life. Not literally touching, you know what I mean. His show of bravery, and the many things I have seen in Lagos has made me to accept it is indeed the most beautiful city in Nigeria. I am aware the people of Lagos can be crazy at times especially the bus drivers who keeps on yelling at static passengers even when they have informed them that they are not going anywh

Only that the city had become more mundane, lots of fancy stuff: street lights, structures and statuses, artificial running springs of water, street signs, bridges, just beautiful in it's complex way, Lagos. "it's looking good" Chad let out in admiration, looking out the window. "But, where are we going to now?" "your ancestral home my guy, and when did you start asking a lot of dumb questions dude?" "I don't know, since you developed breasts" "they are not breasts, they're legit three years of hardwork in the gym, take a close look" "Hmmm..." Chad took a short look with that "Albert Einstein" face "still breasts bro." "GAY!, you can Stop looking now. I decide to not be sexy." Uche cut in

"This city breathes loud." Leah stood at the edge of the small balcony, the humid air clinging to her like a second skin. Her voice was calm but heavy with something Jason hadn’t heard from her in a while..caution. Jason stepped beside her, his arms folded, eyes scanning the street below. Lagos buzzed with cars honking, children laughing, street vendors yelling prices. It was chaos, but not without rhythm. “It’s alive,” he muttered. “Too alive.”

He added as he stood up. So tomorrow I'll likely start a new journey in my life. What would it be like? My only prayer now was that everything just go smoothly. * * * * * * * * I watched as the two older men exchanged pleasantries with each other. Tolu's father must really be close to the man and his wife for them to behave so casually with each other. I some how felt secured and safe. I must admit their place was really beautiful. This side of Lagos was so beautiful.

the driver said as he closed the cardoor, he got into the car and they drove off. They drove in silence for a few minutes, before Summers decided to initiate a conversation. “Luke, I’ve been hearing stories about Lagos and Nigeria in general, most of them negative, but ever since I landed in Lagos yesterday, up till now, I’ve not seen anything close to what I’ve been hearing” he said. Luke chuckled. “Sir you’ve not seen half of the city, I bet your stance would change when you go to the slums” he said. ”Well there are slums and ghettos in any city in the world, I myself grew up in one, so I’d say that’s normal” Summers said.