Dawn broke slowly over Riverside University, washing the rooftops with a pale gold glow. Students were already moving across the walkways — some with earbuds in, some clutching breakfast buns, others dragging their sleepy feet toward 8 a.m. classes. It was a normal morning.
At least, until the news dropped.
By 8:15 a.m., the entire campus buzzed like a shaken beehive.
The School of Arts & Media had announced a massive writing contest — the first of its kind in eight years. The prize? A scholarship, national recognition, and a guaranteed publishing contract. Anyone could enter. No limits. No genres. Only one rule: submit your best story.
Over 100 students registered within the first hour.
Smack in the middle of all this noise was Johnson Adeyemi, a quiet Mass Communication student with the kind of face lecturers always assumed understood everything — even when he didn't. He stood by the library steps holding the flyer, heart pounding faster than he'd expected.
Writing was the one thing he never told people he cared about. Not because he wasn't good, but because he was tired of being underrated. Every time he wrote something, someone else got picked over him. Someone louder. Someone popular. Someone who knew "the right people."
He exhaled, folded the flyer, and put it in his pocket.
> "You're joining, right?"
The voice came from behind. Raphael, his long-time friend and one of the campus' best-known writers, leaned against the rail, eyes bright with excitement. Raphael wasn't underrated. Not even close. People worshiped everything he wrote — even the average pieces.
And yet… Johnson liked him. He was confident, but not arrogant. Talented, but not proud. At least, not outwardly.
"I don't know yet," Johnson muttered.
Raphael laughed.
"Bro, this is your chance. You and I know you're better than half of these people who think they can write."
"Better doesn't matter if nobody sees you."
Raphael paused at that. Johnson wasn't wrong. In Riverside University, talent didn't always win. Popularity did. Friends did. Connections did. Even the lecturers had favorites.
Before Raphael could respond, Tania — a law student with a sharp tongue and a presence that turned heads without trying — walked up to them. She waved her phone.
"Have you seen the new update? They increased the judges' panel. Three external professionals are coming from Lagos."
Raphael whistled. "That's big."
Tania nodded. "And they said the final stories will be read live at the Literature Theatre, in front of the whole campus." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Finally, something dramatic this school has needed."
Johnson swallowed. Public reading. Hundreds of eyes. A thousand silent judgments. The idea made his stomach twist.
Still… something tugged at him — a spark.
Tania studied his face. "You're scared."
"I'm not scared," Johnson said. "Just thinking."
"Thinking too much," she replied. "You write well. You deserve space. You deserve a voice."
Johnson wasn't used to hearing that. Especially not from someone like Tania.
Before he could respond, Mike — the campus comedian who never walked instead of bouncing — ran up to them waving his ID card dramatically.
"It's official!" he shouted. "I'm entering too! My story will scatter this campus!"
Raphael burst into laughter. Tania rolled her eyes. Johnson smiled despite himself.
More students gathered in the open square — Jola, Ella, Praise, Timileyin, Joshua, Gift, Faith, Chidi, Emmanuel, Isaac, Mary, Martha, Daniel** and dozens more. Everyone talking about ideas, genres, plot twists, styles. So many voices. So many dreams.
Over a hundred students.
All wanting the same spotlight.
Johnson looked at the crowd — the chaos, the excitement, the ambition — and something inside him settled.
Maybe being underrated wasn't the end.
Maybe this competition would be different.
He inhaled deeply.
"I'll do it," he said.
Raphael grinned. Tania smirked. Mike yelled, "E choke!"
And just like that…
Riverside University's biggest writing war had begun.