Have you ever stood in line for something like your life depends on it, only to be told that you were too late?
Perhaps it was the last loaf of bread at the market, snatched up by the person just ahead of you. Or maybe you waited all afternoon for a signature on an important document, only to hear, “We’re closed for today.”
Like any other disappointed person, moments like these can make you question everything. "Is it bad luck? Poor timing? Or, worse, is it me?"
For Tola, this wasn’t a rare occurrence—it was her life. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d waited her turn, only to leave empty-handed.
The neighborhood tap ran dry the moment she placed her bucket under it. At the bank, there's always a problem when her number is called. Even trivial things, like boarding a bus, seemed to conspire against her. Seats would fill up as she stepped forward, and the driver would shrug apologetically before driving off.
At first, Tola tried to laugh it off. “Just my luck,” she’d say, forcing a smile. But as the pattern repeated, it became harder to ignore.
People in her neighborhood started noticing too. “There she is—the unlucky one,” they’d whisper. Some pitied her. Like an infected specie, others avoided her, as though her misfortune was contagious.
Tola started believing them. She began avoiding lines altogether, convinced her presence cursed them. Like a remedy to a bad situation, she’d send her younger brother to fetch water or run errands. But deep down, she knew she couldn’t run from her life forever.
Sometimes she wonders if she's really the cause of her parents death as she does hear her neighbours say. Her parents were victims of an accident and it happened a few minutes after they dropped her at school some years ago.
One evening, the town was alive with preparations for the annual Eyo Festival. The streets were lined with white-clad figures carrying well decorated staffs, their costumes a dazzling blend of tradition and artistry just like any colorful festival one can imagine.
The air was filled with the sounds of drumming and singing as people celebrated the spirits of the ancestors and the rich cultural heritage of Lagos.
Tola loved the Eyo Festival as a child, but now, the crowds and queues made her uneasy.
She wandered through quieter streets like a child that lost her way, avoiding the excitement. Her heart as heavy as a big load, beating like it would jump out of its position. That was when she saw someone.
It was an elderly woman who stood at the side of the road, struggling to pull a wooden cart piled with fruits. The wheels creaked under the weight, and the woman’s frail arms trembled with the effort.
Without hesitation, Tola approached her. “Let me help you, Mama,” she said, grabbing the cart’s handle.
The woman looked up, her face lined with age but glowing with gratitude. “Bless you, my child,” she said softly. Together, they pushed the cart to a shaded spot under a large tree.
When they stopped, the woman turned to Tola and smiled. “You have a kind heart,” she said, reaching into the cart. From beneath a layer of leaves, she pulled out a small, peculiar-looking fruit. Its skin shimmered faintly, almost as if it were alive.
“For you,” the woman said, pressing it into Tola’s hands. “Eat it when you feel lost.”
Tola hesitated. “Oh, no, Mama, I can’t take this. You’ve already had a long day.”
But the woman shook her head. “Take it. And remember, not every delay is a misfortune.”
Before Tola could ask what she meant, the woman gathered her things and disappeared into the crowd.
Tola stared at the fruit, unsure of what to do. She tucked it into her bag, thinking she might try it later.
Days passed, and the incident slipped from her mind—until the morning she queued at the market for a bag of rice.
She’d been waiting for nearly two hours, inching forward in the sweltering heat. Just as it was her turn, the vendor threw up his hands. “That’s it! All sold out!”
Tola felt her chest tighten. It was happening again. She walked to a quiet corner, slumped against a wall, and buried her face in her hands.
Like a bad spirit echoing her fears into her ears, the whispers of her neighbors replayed in her mind: "She’s unlucky. Nothing good happens to her."
Then she remembered the fruit. With nothing to lose, she rummaged through her bag and pulled it out. It looked as vibrant as the day the woman had given it to her. She took a cautious bite.
The fruit was sweet, with a flavor unlike anything she’d ever tasted. As she swallowed, a strange sensation washed over her.
It wasn’t dramatic—no thunderclaps or flashes of light—but a quiet calm settled over her, as though a weight she hadn’t realized she was carrying had been lifted.
The next day, Tola returned to the scholarship office she’d visited weeks ago. She wasn’t expecting much—she’d been turned away before, told her application was incomplete. But this time, the clerk looked up as she approached.
“Tola, right?” he said, rifling through a stack of papers. “We’ve reviewed your case. Congratulations—you’ve been approved.”
Tola blinked, stunned. “What? But I thought—”
“Sometimes things just work out,” the clerk said with a shrug, handing her the documents.
From that day on, the moments that once slipped through Tola’s fingers seemed to align in her favor. One would think she had done something diabolical like a ritual that involves sacrificing her fellow humans.
She’d arrive at the bus stop just as the bus pulled in. At the market, vendors would wave her over, saving her a portion before it sold out. Even her neighbors noticed the change.
“What’s your secret?” one of them asked.
Tola only smiled. Though she never saw the old woman again, she thought of her often. The fruit had been more than a gift—it was a reminder. Life’s delays weren’t curses but hidden blessings, nudging her toward something greater.
And for the first time, Tola felt as though she wasn’t standing in line, waiting for life to happen. She was living it.
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A little act of kindness can open doors of numerous blessings just like in Tola's case
Glad to know things ended up working out for Tola. It would have been so painful for anyone to keep living their life in such a painful way. Nice story, well written, well done 👍
We often times undermine the power of kindness. I am happy that things turned out fine for him.
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Thank you so much for sharing the tips. I will adhere to the rules as stated. However, I have commented on the works of @abigail04 and @amarachi22 and my content is written by me. Thank you so much once again.