The Gospel According To Spaghetti
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Meet Priscilla
A 5'3" storm in a teacup—sweet like morning tea, but she's chill most days, the type of girl who can turn silence into a vibe and worship into a whole atmosphere. When gospel music plays? She’s not just listening—she’s transcending. Spiritually booked and emotionally unavailable… unless you're bringing food (Spaghetti or maybe....Amala).
She writes like her pen's been baptized, pouring truth, soul, and just a touch of Yoruba fire into every word. Her friends say she’s really pretty, but pretty doesn’t even begin it. She’s the kind of girl who glows , laughs loud, and keeps it real even when reality’s messy.
Might be small, but don’t underestimate her. She’s got that “God’s favorite and I bite” energy.
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"The Gospel According to Spaghetti"
On a slow Saturday morning, Priscilla sat by the window, humming gospel music between her and heaven. She wasn’t just vibing—she was worshipping.
She had her notebook open, ready to write something that would shake heaven probably. Her words carried weight.
Just as she was thinking, her younger cousin burst into the room.
“Aunty Prisci , someone finished the spaghetti.”
There was silence.
Priscilla stood slowly, closed her notebook , and turned around. “What did you just say?”
“I said—”
“I heard you,” she replied, voice calm in that scary way only Yoruba aunties could master.
The cousin ran.
Because what people didn’t know was— Priscilla's anger wasn’t loud. It was calculated and beautiful And also, she’d just fasted for six hours, so… the spaghetti disappearance was war.
Ten minutes later, a new pot of spaghetti was on the stove. Worship music filled the kitchen. All was well again.
Because Priscilla? She’s a vibe. A prayer. A problem. And above all—never to be messed with when food or faith is on the line.
— Part 2: "The Choir Boy"
On Sunday morning,The sun was glowing , and she stepped into church looking like the Proverbs 31 woman… with a “try me” energy.
She took her usual seat, Bible in hand, lip gloss popping, and her worship playlist already queued for the walk home. Everything was peace. Until—she saw him.
Tall, dark and...... He stood in the choir section, adjusting the mic, looking all holy and mysterious. His voice when he started singing? Smooth. Deep.
Priscilla blinked ,“God… is this a distraction or destiny?”
She was caught in the middle of worship .
As the choir finished, he looked down from the pulpit—and their eyes met. Boom. A flash of drama. Somewhere in the distance, anticipation.......
After service, she tried to leave quietly. But God had other plans—and so did her auntie, who suddenly popped out of nowhere not minding her business
“Ehen, Prisci, come and greet Brother Israel He’s new in the choir and single. I mean, he’s new in the choir.”
Ehen, Single?
Israel smiled. “I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re the one who writes and nearly fought over food yesterday, right?”
“Who told you that?”
Ohh we
ll “Church has ears.”
And just like that, a new........