Linda jacy

THE BRIDE ON THE ROAD

They say if you drive the old highway after midnight, you might see her—
a woman in a wedding gown, walking alone along the shoulder of the road.
No one knows her name. No one ever gets a clear look at her face.
But everyone who sees her remembers one thing:
she’s always moving, as if she’s late for something she’ll never reach.

---

Tom was working the late shift the night he saw her. The fog smothered the pavement, and his headlights barely tore through it. That’s when he spotted her—white dress, bare feet, veil trailing like torn lace behind her.

He slowed.
“Ma’am? Are you hurt?”

She didn’t answer.
She didn’t turn.
She just kept walking.

Tom pulled over, uneasy. When he stepped out, the world went silent—not a single insect or distant engine.

“Do you need help?”

This time she stopped.

Her head tilted in that unnatural way, and Tom noticed the dress wasn’t just dirty—it was burnt, the edges melted into brittle curls.
And on the back of the gown…
blackened streaks that looked like smoke stains.

She lifted a trembling hand, as if trying to warn him.

Then he heard it:
the faint hiss and pop of electricity—
the sound of power lines sparking.

Tom turned instinctively, but saw nothing.
When he looked back… she was gone.

He scrambled into his truck and sped away, refusing to check the rearview mirror. Everyone in town knew you never looked after seeing her. Not unless you wanted to see her sitting in the back seat.

---

Eventually, the truth surfaced in whispers from old-timers:

The bride had been in a car crash on her wedding night.
A drunk driver veered across the line, forcing her limo into a fallen power pole.
Live wires came down on the wreck.
She crawled out, dragging her burning gown across the pavement, trying to flag down help.
But no one came in time.

She died on the shoulder of the highway—
walking, burning, trying to reach safety.

That’s why her spirit is trapped there:
her last moments were spent trying to walk to help she never reached, so she walks still.

And some say the other presence—the heavy footsteps behind her—is the drunk driver’s spirit, cursed to chase the woman he killed, never able to catch her…
or escape her.

A FATHER'S LOVE

A father’s love runs deep — deeper than words, deeper than pain. Dimkpa, a tall and frail man whose name ironically meant “strong man,” carried that strength not in his muscles but in his heart. Life had dealt him a cruel hand — his wife died giving birth to their son, Chuma — yet he never let grief or hardship define his children’s future.
He raised Ezinne and Chuma with tenderness and discipline, shielding them from the harshness of the world. Though poor, he worked tirelessly to send them to a good school, determined that they would never feel the weight of his struggles. His children, bright and kind, quickly became the pride of their school.
When a scholarship opportunity arose — one that could change their lives forever — Dimkpa’s joy turned to despair upon learning the registration fee was far beyond his reach. He begged for help, but doors closed in his face until the High Chief summoned him. The Chief offered the money, but with a chilling condition: if Ezinne failed, she would become his wife.
Dimkpa’s heart broke. He wrestled with the decision, torn between desperation and love. But Ezinne, wise beyond her years, assured him that she would not fail. Her faith rekindled his hope, and he accepted the Chief’s offer.
Ezinne studied relentlessly, sacrificing sleep and health. On the exam day, she wrote with confidence, certain she had done well. But when the results came, her name was missing. Shocked and heartbroken, she fainted at the school gate.
At the hospital, Dimkpa prayed beside her bed, whispering words of comfort when she awoke. “You have nothing to be sorry for, my love,” he said softly. “I know you passed.”
But the High Chief rejoiced at the news of her supposed failure. He threw a lavish feast, boasting that he would soon marry the intelligent young girl. When he summoned Dimkpa to claim his “bride,” the father’s spirit erupted like a storm.
“I will never give you my daughter!” Dimkpa roared. “Not while I live!”
The Chief sneered, his voice dripping with malice. “Then you will die, and I will still have her.”
The High Chief’s words echoed like thunder in Dimkpa’s ears. The villagers who heard of the confrontation whispered among themselves — some feared for Dimkpa’s life, others admired his courage. But Dimkpa was unmoved by fear. He had lost too much already; he would not lose his daughter too.
That night, he packed a small bag with a few clothes, some food, and the little money he had left. He woke Ezinne and Chuma quietly. “My children,” he said, his voice trembling but firm, “we must leave this place tonight. Evil walks in daylight here.”
They slipped into the darkness, guided only by the moonlight and faith. For days they journeyed through forests and villages, sleeping under trees, surviving on scraps. Ezinne’s health weakened, but her father’s determination kept her spirit alive.
Meanwhile, the High Chief, furious that his “bride” had escaped, sent his guards to search every corner of the land. He bribed, threatened, and cursed, but Dimkpa and his children were nowhere to be found.
Weeks later, they arrived in a distant town where no one knew their story. Dimkpa found work as a laborer in a construction site, earning just enough to feed his children. Ezinne, though still recovering, begged her father to let her continue her studies. With the help of a kind schoolteacher who saw her brilliance, she was admitted into a local school.
Years passed. Ezinne excelled beyond everyone’s expectations, winning awards and scholarships that took her to the city. Chuma followed in her footsteps, inspired by his sister’s strength and his father’s sacrifice.
One day, Ezinne returned home — not as the poor girl who once fled in fear, but as a young woman of success and grace. She had come to build a new house for her father, the man who gave up everything for love.
As they stood before their new home, Dimkpa’s eyes filled with tears. “You see, my daughter,” he said softly, “a man’s strength is not in his body, but in his heart. And you, my Ezinne, are my greatest victory.”
Ezinne hugged him tightly. “You taught me that love is the greatest wealth, Papa. And because of your love, we will never be poor again.”
The wind carried their laughter through the village — a sound of triumph, of love that conquered fear, and of a father’s promise fulfilled.

*A bad day doesn't mean a bad life. Give yourself grace and keep going.*

*Sometimes you don't need to hear their excuses because their actions already spoke the truth.*😎

Good Morning

Just be yourself...you are not here to impress people!

I lost people but I won my peace and that's enough ♥️💫♥️