It all started on a regular Tuesday morning, I was walking to school. Suddenly, a black van drove past and stopped next to me. Before I could react, two men jumped out, grabbed me, and threw me into the van. I was terrified and couldn't scream. They tied my hands and put a blindfold over my eyes. My heart was pounding, and I felt sick with fear.
In the darkness, I could hear the men talking. One of them, who had a very thick voice, said, "We need to make sure no one finds her diary. If she wrote anything about us, our plans won't go accordingly."
I became more scared. My diary! I wrote in it every day. It had everything—my thoughts, my feelings, and most importantly, things I noticed around my neighborhood, including some suspicious activities by these men. They didn't know I had a habit of observing and writing down details.
The van stopped after some hours, and they dragged me into a small, cold room. They left me there, tied up and blindfolded. I heard the door lock behind them. I tried to stay calm and think of a way out.
Back home, my parents were running helter skelter . When I didn’t come home from school, they knew something was wrong. They called the police and started searching for me. My best friend, Amina, was worried too. She knew about my diary and thought it might have clues. She rushed to my house and explained her idea to my parents and the police.
Mr. and Mrs. Adeyemi, Ifeoma always writes in her diary. She might have written something that can help us find her, Amina said .
My parents nodded, and the police agreed to check my room. They found my diary hidden under my bed, just where I always kept it. They started reading through it, hoping to find anything useful.
Back in the small room, I was trying to untie the ropes around my hands. I finally managed to free myself and took off the blindfold. I looked around the room, trying to find a way out. There was a small window high up on one wall. It was my only chance. I climbed on a chair and sneaked out. I saw trees and a dirty road, I followed the road saying to myself maybe I was in an abandoned building in the outskirts of the city.
At home, the police found entries in my diary about the suspicious men. Listen to this, one officer said. "Ifeoma wrote about seeing a black van near her school several times and noticed the same men hanging around. This could be our lead."
Amina gasped. "Those must be the men who took her!"
The police quickly started searching for any black vans in the area. They also set up roadblocks and sent out alerts. Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out how to open the window. It was small, but I thought I could squeeze through. I found a screwdriver in the corner of the room and started loosening the screws holding the window frame.
Hours passed, and I was exhausted, but I finally managed to open the window. I squeezed through and dropped to the ground outside. I started running, not knowing where I was going but determined to get away.
The police had a breakthrough. They found a black van parked near an old cabin in the outskirts, matching the description from my diary. They moved in quietly, surrounding the area. As they approached the abandoned building , they saw me running towards them. I was crying and shouting for help.
"Ifeoma, it's okay! We're here!" shouted one of the officers.
They caught the kidnappers trying to escape and arrested them. My parents arrived soon after, and we hugged tightly, tears streaming down our faces. Amina was there too, smiling through her tears.
"Your diary saved you, Ifeoma," Amina said, hugging me.
I realized then how important my little book had been. It had helped the police find me and catch the bad guys. I was safe, thanks to my habit of writing everything down.
From that day on, I kept writing in my diary, knowing that my words had the power to make a difference.