Lust The Master of Darkness

In the continent of Africa, there was a country labeled on the world recognized map Nigeria, puzzled with thoughts which brought us to Lagos a well known state in Nigeria. Down to where Efe sat quietly on the last row of the church. Not because he was late, but because he didn't feel like being seen. His face looked calm, but his mind was wild. The choir sang about surrender, but his thoughts were everywhere. His phone buzzed-Tife again. Her texts were always "innocent," but they stirred something else inside him. She wasn't just another friend. She was temptation in perfume.

"Efe, you're not singing," his sister nudged him.

He nodded, pretending he was reflecting. The truth? He was tired. Tired of the struggle. Tired of trying to live holy when the world outside the church walls was soaked in seduction. Lagos wasn't for the weak. You scroll Instagram and fall. You open WhatsApp, and lust meets you in stickers.

Later that day, he walked the streets of Yaba. Billboard after billboard - skin, flesh, vanity. Every ad told him, "You're missing out."

That night, he dreamt again. A man, dark as ash, stood in a misty forest holding a chain.

"You've tasted pleasure," the figure hissed. "Why pretend?"

Efe tried to run, but his feet were heavy. Behind him, shadows moved like whispers-girls, reels, late-night messages, past memories.

He woke up sweating.

Was it just a dream?