The rain fell softly that evening, washing the red earth of Umueze village. Beneath the old udala tree, a small crowd gathered—faces somber, hearts heavy. Nnanna had passed away, but even in death, his story was not over.
Before he died, he made a promise to his only daughter, Amara. She was just twelve, eyes bright like morning dew. He held her hand weakly on his sickbed and whispered, “No matter what happens, my child, you will never be alone. I will make sure of it.”
After his burial, life became harsh. The relatives who had once smiled at Nnanna’s wealth turned cold. His farmland was seized, and Amara and her mother were pushed to the edge of hunger. But something strange began to happen.
Each morning, Amara would find a calabash of fresh palm oil and a basket of yams by their doorstep. No one in the village claimed to have left it. The gifts came every dawn, silent and constant. Her mother thought it was kindness from a secret friend, but Amara believed differently.
One night, during a heavy storm, she woke to the sound of footsteps outside. Peeking through the window, she saw a figure—tall, familiar, carrying a lantern. He walked toward the old udala tree, then vanished like mist.
Her heart pounded. The next morning, she went there and found a small clay pot buried under the roots. Inside it were gold cowries and a note written in her father’s handwriting: “A father’s promise never dies. Use this to begin again.” Tears filled her eyes as she whispered, “Papa kept his word.”
Years later, Amara became a teacher, helping orphans and widows just like her mother once was. And whenever someone asked what gave her strength, she would smile and say, “Because even death cannot break a true promise.”
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Michael
15 days agoA Promise Kept After Death
The rain fell softly that evening, washing the red earth of Umueze village. Beneath the old udala tree, a small crowd gathered—faces somber, hearts heavy. Nnanna had passed away, but even in death, his story was not over.
Before he died, he made a promise to his only daughter, Amara. She was just twelve, eyes bright like morning dew. He held her hand weakly on his sickbed and whispered, “No matter what happens, my child, you will never be alone. I will make sure of it.”
After his burial, life became harsh. The relatives who had once smiled at Nnanna’s wealth turned cold. His farmland was seized, and Amara and her mother were pushed to the edge of hunger. But something strange began to happen.
Each morning, Amara would find a calabash of fresh palm oil and a basket of yams by their doorstep. No one in the village claimed to have left it. The gifts came every dawn, silent and constant. Her mother thought it was kindness from a secret friend, but Amara believed differently.
One night, during a heavy storm, she woke to the sound of footsteps outside. Peeking through the window, she saw a figure—tall, familiar, carrying a lantern. He walked toward the old udala tree, then vanished like mist.
Her heart pounded. The next morning, she went there and found a small clay pot buried under the roots. Inside it were gold cowries and a note written in her father’s handwriting: “A father’s promise never dies. Use this to begin again.” Tears filled her eyes as she whispered, “Papa kept his word.”
Years later, Amara became a teacher, helping orphans and widows just like her mother once was. And whenever someone asked what gave her strength, she would smile and say, “Because even death cannot break a true promise.”
Thanks for reading. Be kind to comment, like and follow
God bless you!