ONE RACE _ONE REWARD_ TWO CONTESTANTS (RELOADED)

Meet Paschal and Paul, two drivers contesting in a high-stakes motor race. Both have prepared rigorously for this event, each driven by personal needs that hinge on winning the race. It has been announced that the winner will walk away with ₦31 million, and it is a winner-takes-all competition.A large crowd has gathered to witness the event. Rumors are already circulating that an NGO has begun calling for volunteers to donate toward a surprise cash gift for the eventual winner. None of these details are lost on the contestants, so they are determined to go the extra mile.However, there is something peculiar about each of them.Paschal’s strategy is the pedal-to-the-metal approach. Like many others, his plan is simple: apply maximum speed and never lift his foot off the throttle. He fully recognizes—and fully trusts—the power of SPEED.Paul, on the other hand, is a man who understands the synchronization of DISTANCE, SPEED, and TIME. He knows that speed without restraint is noise, and restraint without speed is delay.Hmm…Just as the announcer is about to signal the start of the race, something unexpected happens.The piercing cry of a woman is heard.The officials panic.The crowd gasps.“Wait! WAIT!” she cries. “My son has forgotten something!” Paschal’s mum says as she runs onto the track.Before anyone can stop her, she reaches Paschal, unveiling something hidden under her wrapper… ANOINTING OIL.🤦. Before Paschal can protest against the embarrassment, she quickly anoints his hands on the steering wheel, declaring, “I cover your hands with the blood of Jesus,” with a shaky voice—chanting perfectly like a veteran priest.She then leans in close. In a low voice, she whispers:“Prophet Elias said you should sing this one as you race…Owó Olúwa n be lórí ayé miÓ n gbé mi fòÓ n gbé mi sáré(‘The hand of the Lord is upon me;It is making me run,It is making me fly.’)”Several reactions erupt from the crowd, ranging from “Awwn, sweet mother” to “Na lie, na juju” to “This should not be allowed.”In all of this, Paschal reluctantly thanks his mum, who is already being shooed away by the officials, and low-key begins to sing the song. “All join,” he thinks to himself.And then…With everything back to normal, the flag drops and the race begins.The engines roar like thunder breaking loose from the clouds. Tires scream against the tarmac as Paschal launches forward, foot heavy—pedal welded to the floor.The crowd erupts, screams piercing the sky like the wind itself had learned how to scream. Echoes of fear (some had placed bets) and excitement braid together.Paschal surges ahead early, swallowing the distance between himself and Paul. The spectators roar louder as he overtakes him.Paul follows—not slowly, but deliberately—watching the curves, listening to the engine, measuring the stretch of road ahead. "If I burn everything now, he thinks, what will be left for the end?Paschal dominates the first stretch, speed thrilling the crowd. Somewhere in the stands, his mum screams, “The anointing is working!!!”Paul resists the urge to chase the gap aggressively. He eases when the road allows it, presses when it demands it, ignoring the faint taunts that brush past his ears as he speeds by. He respects time, knowing it never negotiates.The duo maintains this rhythm through the second lap.Heat builds.Tires wear.And somewhere around the third and final lap, something changes…The track decides to play a dangerous game.Yet the clock keeps ticking—indifferent, unbiased, yet unforgiving.<blockquote>To be continued 😌</blockquote>

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