#STORYTIME: YOU PLANTED THIS ✓ ONLY ONE AFI BLOG✨

#STORYTIME: YOU PLANTED THIS ✓ ONLY ONE AFI BLOG✨

This story is a dark, lyrical tale with a quiet crash at the end—audacious charm curdling into deep consequence 🌑...

She arrived in Europe like a Rumor wrapped in silk...

A Jamaican-Japanese woman named May Jo-Lynn with an exquisite face of pure beauty that forced people to look twice, sometimes, even stare. She had a very soft, subtle voice that made them to listen, as if she carried the sun of the Caribbean in her laugh and the precision of Tokyo in her habits. People said she was gorgeous, but beauty was never her power. Control was. And May LOVED it. She was consumed and infused by it. It was her SUPERPOWER. 

By day, she worked discreetly—consulting, advising, professionally curating lives the way others curated art. By night, she returned to her luxury apartment, where candles burned low and the air smelled of various oils, ash, incantations, implantations, and old intentions. She had patiently mastered the work of the craft at a young age: she whispered rituals from one lineage, she disciplined spellcraft from another. She told herself it was heritage. She told herself it was harmless.

Then there was Renee’.

A client, technically. Confident. Grounded. Immune to intimidation. Everything that the witch was not—and everything she could not bend. From the very first meeting, something twisted inside her. Renee’ questioned her advice. Declined her “guidance.” Walked away whole.

With May-Jo, dislike hardened into fixation like sugar into a sweet, tasty candy.

The witch began working spells meant not to heal or protect, but to disturb and disrupt—to tangle paths, to sour luck, to dim a light 🕯️ that she resented. Each ritual made her feel stronger, yet somehow smaller. She told herself it was justice. She told herself Renee’ deserved it.

Obsession does that: it convinces you that harm is holy.

The mistake was arrogance.

One afternoon, the witch was confronted—quietly, publicly, irrevocably. In her possession were materials that did not belong to her: personal effects, ritual items unmistakably traced back to Renee’. Hair wrapped too carefully. Symbols copied too precisely. Proof, laid out without theatrics.

There was no screaming. No dramatic curse.

Just silence.

Her reputation collapsed first—clients gone, doors closed, whispers replacing admiration. Then came the unraveling she had once wished on another. The rituals stopped working. The mirrors felt wrong. The candles wouldn’t stay lit.

Power, it turns out, does not survive exposure.

In the end, she sat alone in that same apartment, surrounded by tools that no longer answered her. The woman who had tried to control fate was left with only herself—and the knowledge that her downfall was not caused by magic, but by malice.

Some witches are undone by stronger spells.

Others are undone when the truth finally steps into the light.

#WITCHSCOVERBLOWN

#ITALLFALLSDOWN

Galatians 6:7 (KJV)  Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.

#STORYTIME: PITO THE ADORABLE PUPPY ✓ ONLY ONE AFI BLOG✨

"Pito: The Heart of the Village" 

In a sun-drenched village surrounded by lavender fields and cobblestone paths, a golden puppy named Pito was born with a sparkle in his eyes and a heart full of wonder. From the moment he could walk, he chased butterflies, tumbled through flower beds, and greeted every villager with a tail wag that felt like sunshine.

But Pito wasn’t just adorable—he was special.

One morning, the village awoke to a strange silence. The birds had stopped singing, and the wind no longer whispered through the trees. The villagers grew worried. Their beloved music teacher, Mrs. Elara, had fallen ill, and without her, the village’s annual Harmony Festival was in danger of being canceled.

Pito, sensing the sadness, trotted to Elara’s cottage. He curled beside her bed, refusing to leave. Day after day, he brought her small gifts—a wildflower, a shiny pebble, a feather from a passing bird. Slowly, Elara began to smile again. Her strength returned, and with it, her music.

When the festival day arrived, Elara stood on stage, violin in hand. But before she played, she called Pito up. “This little one reminded me that healing begins with love,” she said. As she played the first note, Pito howled softly in harmony, and the crowd erupted in laughter and tears.

From that day on, Pito became the village’s guardian of joy. He led children to school, comforted the lonely, and even helped the baker deliver warm bread. His presence was a melody that never faded.

Years later, when Pito grew old and rested more than he played, the villagers built a statue in the town square—a golden puppy with bright eyes and a wagging tail. Beneath it, a plaque read:

“Pito: The Heart That Taught Us to Sing Again.”

And every spring, during the Harmony Festival, the first song was always for him.

#STORYTIME: A SPELL FOR LOVE 💕, A CURSE ☠️ FOR TWO ✓ ONLY ONE AFI BLOG✨

 

This is a powerful, compelling story about a beautiful, Puerto Rican-Native witch named Derica Murphy, who came from a long line of witches in her bloodline, who worked tirelessly to manifest powerful changes in to the lives of her clients. She was well experienced regarding Darkness kingdom. One day, she decided to fast for two weeks to help a client achieve true love in her life, as this particular client was an older woman, and she had lost faith in ever being able to love again after the death of her military husband, Chef Romon. When it comes to witchcraft, the occult, and sorcery, two things come to mind for Derica: what's in this for me? And how much praise and power can I get from this situation?

This compelling, story has a powerful ending when Derica performs the fast for her client and the ritual backfires on her and her client...

A SPELL FOR LOVE 💕, 

A CURSE ☠️ FOR TWO

Derica Murphy was no ordinary woman. She was beautiful — yes — but her beauty was layered: magnetic, mysterious, and edged with something ancient. She came from a bloodline steeped in sorcery, a lineage of witches whose names were whispered in both reverence and fear. Her grandmother, Elira, had once summoned storms with her voice. Her mother, Saphira, could bend dreams into reality. And Derica? She was the one who walked freely between realms — especially the one known as the Kingdom of Darkness...

She didn’t just cast spells. She shifted destinies.

Clients came to her broken, desperate, and hungry for change. She gave them results. She manifested wealth, restored lost confidence, and even reversed curses. But her power came at a cost — not to her, but to those who asked for help. Derica never fasted for others. She never sacrificed her own comfort. She believed in transactional magic: “What’s in this for me?” and “How much praise and power can I get from this situation?”

Until one day, a woman named Marietta walked into her studio.

💔 The Widow’s Request

Marietta was older, soft-spoken, and visibly worn by grief. Her late husband, Chef Romon, had died in a military accident overseas. He was her soulmate, her protector, her joy. Since his death, she had lived in boredom, in pain, and in silence — cooking for no one, laughing at nothing, and believing love had abandoned her.

“I don’t want youth,” she said. “I want to feel again. I want to love again. I want to believe again.”

Derica studied her. There was no glamour in this request. No fame. No viral praise. Just a broken woman asking for a miracle.

Still, something spiritual stirred in Derica. A challenge. A chance to prove her power could reach even the deepest grave of despair.

“I’ll fast for you,” she said. “Two weeks. No food. No distractions. Just ritual, invocation, and sacrifice.”

Marietta’s eyes welled with tears. “Thank you.”

Derica didn’t smile. She didn’t hug her. She simply lit a black candle and began the countdown.

🌑 The Fast Begins

Day 1: Derica locked herself in her ritual chamber. She burned herbs, chanted incantations, and called on spirits from the Kingdom of Darkness.  

Day 4: She began to see visions — Romon’s face, Marietta’s tears, a dark shadow hovering behind them.  

Day 7: Her body weakened, but her pride grew. She believed she was unlocking something divine.  

Day 10: She heard whispers in her sleep. “This love is not yours to give.”  

Day 13: Her skin turned pale. Her eyes darkened. She pressed on through it all.  

Day 14: The final ritual began.

She drew a circle of salt, placed Marietta’s photo in the center, and poured her own blood onto the altar. She called on the spirits of love, resurrection, and desire.

But something was wrong.

The air grew cold. The candle flames turned blue. The photo began to burn — not from fire, but from within.

Derica screamed. The spirits did not answer. Instead, a voice thundered:

“You fasted for power. Not for love.”

⚡ The Backlash

That night, Marietta collapsed in her home. Her heart stopped for three minutes before paramedics revived her. She awoke screaming Romon’s name — not in joy, but in terror. She said she saw him in a dark place, reaching for her, begging her not to follow.

Derica, meanwhile, was found unconscious in her chamber, surrounded by shattered glass and scorched symbols. Her body recovered, but her power did not.

She could no longer cast. No longer see. No longer feel the spirits.

Her bloodline had been cut off.

🕊️ The Final Revelation

Weeks later, Derica sat alone in her studio, staring at the ashes of Marietta’s photo. She opened a Bible — something she had never touched before — and read the Bible verse that now haunted her:

> “For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?”  

> — Matthew 16:26 (KJV)

She whispered it aloud. Then she wept.

Because in her quest for praise and power, 

she had lost the one thing her ancestors never taught her to protect:

Her own soul.

#STORYTIME: THE WEIGHT OF PROTECTION ✓ ONLY ONE AFI BLOG✨

 

✨ Mini Novel:

“The Weight of Protection”

This novel is about a gorgeous, darker skinned Italian-Native woman named Maria Carvaullo from Bronx, NY USA, who had a very passionate and loving boyfriend, RaQuil, who desired very strongly to marry her, but he had an intense problem withtwo things: forgiveness and anger. 

He'd even scared the ba-jeebles out of her one time because he got angry with her, because she came home late and didn't have him come pick her up. In his mind, he's not abusive or angry, he's simply protective...

Maria Carvaullo was born beneath Bronx streetlights that flickered like tired stars, their glow catching the warm bronze of her skin as she walked home each night. Her beauty was not really loud—it was steady, rooted, and ancestral. Italian fire lived in her hands; Native memory lived in her bones. She carried both with quiet dignity, like sacred heirlooms.

She loved deeply. That was her gift and, some days, it was her cross.

Her boyfriend loved her too—fiercely, possessively, with a devotion that spoke of marriage, rings, futures, and things forever. He told her often that she was his answered prayer. And he believed it. Truly. Yet inside him lived a storm that forgiveness never quite accomplished.

When Maria came home late one evening, having chosen to walk instead of calling him for a ride, the storm rose.

His voice sharpened. His presence filled the room like thunder pressing against glass. He never laid a hand on her—but fear does not always need touch to leave stern bruises. Her heart raced. Her breath shrank. And when it was over, he stood certain of his righteousness.

“I’m not angry,” he told himself.
“I’m protective.”

But Scripture says, “The anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.”
And love—true love—“is patient, is kind… it is not easily angered.”

Maria knew these verses. She had learned them the way some people learn lullabies. Yet knowing the Word and living safely within it are not always the same thing.

She prayed for him. She prayed for calmness and peace. She prayed that love would be enough to heal what he refused to name.

But the Bible also teaches that repentance is not regret—it is turning. And he would not turn. He believed that his extreme love excused his fury. He believed fear was a form of authentic care.

Maria began to understand another scripture, quieter but firmer:
“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”

One night, she packed her things while the city slept. No drama. No shouting. Just tears falling into folded clothes. Leaving broke her heart—but staying would have broken her spirit.

He woke to absence. To silence. To the echo of a love he thought he owned.

Maria walked into a future that hurt—but did not harm her. She carried grief, yes, but also wisdom. She learned that love without gentleness is not love. That protection without humility becomes control. That God’s laws are not cages—but coverings.

And though the ending was sad, it was powerful:

Maria chose peace.

Not because she stopped loving—but because she finally loved herself enough to believe that true, pure, holy love never requires fear.

EXPOSE A WITCH, TAKE HER POWERS ✓ ONLY ONE AFI BLOG ✨

EXPOSE A WITCH, TAKE HER POWERS 

Jezebel-witch, 

YOU, vile, Utterly wicked witch—

You spiritual criminal, spiritual lawbreaker, you spiritual vermin,

I Rebuke You in the name of Jesus Christ, in the name of Yashaya.

I Come Against You in the Spirit, in the name of Jesus Christ, in the name of Yashaya.

I Come Against You through the BLOOD of Jesus Christ, through the BLOOD of Yashaya, 

You thought 💭 you could get away with your evil deeds and abominable secrets, but you are wrong. 

I discerned ALL wickedness you've done against me viper.

And if I picked up your malicious intentions and secret plans, then you should have enough sense to know that the Creator of the Universe Knows.

I Expose You & your Jezebel Demon in the name of Jesus Christ, 

In the name of Yashaya: 

306, You are a Copycat, a Heavy Idolator & a Spiritual Enigma!

I Come Against You & Jezebel for:

1. I'm up here in my living room, listening to worship music, reading my Bible, minding my own  business, and you're up here, in your living room, (directly next to my living room), actively doing rituals on me, attacking me in REAL TIME, and you Know I have a health hiccup. HOW RUDE and CRUEL... 

#GODBLESSYOUWITCH #WITCHEXPOSED #WITCHONBLAST

#JEZEBELGOTTAGO! #SECRETEXPOSE #DIVINEJUSTICE #WITCHESONFIRE

2. I'm aware of your wicked surveillance spirits you've sent against me to pry in to my personal life, monitor, and report back to you. 

One would think that as many people as you know and text about me all the time, that you have Many, many friends, and too much going on to be involved with what's going on with me, or my apartment. But what I Know is that, clearly you're ALL LACK because of ALL the TIME and ENERGY you utilize towards me. If I wasn't offended, I'd be Flattered, because of the true dedication you have. 

#LOYALHATER: 

#GODBLESSYOUWITCH #DIVINEJUSTICE #WITCHESONFIRE

 

3. I'm aware of the negative snooping and oppressive energies that you and your minion helper witches try to attack me with. 

Your Disgusting witchcraft spirits of oppression, stagnation, negativity, etc. And yet, STILL, here I AM! 

#GODBLESSYOUWITCH #DIVINEJUSTICE #WITCHESONFIRE

 

4. I'm aware of one of your idol-sharing rituals within the past month or so that you've done to highjack my phone settings so you can track my app activity, my travel activity, and my settings adjustments, like when I turn off/on my data, when I set ON my location, when I set my phone in airplane mode, etc. ✨IF I DISCERN YOU, JUST KNOW, THAT GOD (OF ISRAEL) YOU HATE ALREADY KNOWS! 

#GODBLESSYOUWITCH #DIVINEJUSTICE #WITCHESONFIRE

5. I'm aware of you having that corrupt case manager help you to obtain my trash, (after I dump it and walk away). 

You are officially caught and Exposed 306, and the BLOOD OF CHRIST and the Heavens 

ARE AGAINST YOU!! 

#GODBLESSYOUWITCH #DIVINEJUSTICE #WITCHESONFIRE

And she had the NERVE to give me her phone number...#DEVIL!!!

6. I'm fully aware of how much time and energy you devote to me. Isn't it tiring? And With you harboring that nasty, wicked JEZEBEL spirit, You are much worse than an obsessed fan, any sinner's worst nightmare

You're definitely a HATER and YOU ARE OFFICIALLY CAUGHT!!

JEZEBELGOTTAGO! #SECRETEXPOSED

#WITCHESONFIRE

7. I'm aware of how you illegally and immorally GAVE ACCESS of MY CELL PHONE to your people's in Darkness kingdom so that they go through my phone, Steal files, and rip the audio from MY FILES!!! MY PHONE, DEVIL! MY PHONE! YOU ARE DEFINITELY CAUGHT, you WICKED WITCH!!! 

#GODBLESSYOUWITCH #DIVINEJUSTICE #WITCHESONFIRE

#SECRETEXPOSED

8. I'm aware of your filthy, malicious, slimy,scheming text messages you be sending to OUR neighbors and community members to help you "track", spy on, and try to keep up with what I'm doing IN MY OWN APARTMENT. 

Instead of watching me, and trying to be ALL UP in MY BUSINESS, 

YOU NEED to be CONSTANTLY MONITORED 

and your demon needs ground up in to fine powder AND be eaten up by 

Heaven's hound dogs! 

#WITCHEXPOSED #WITCHONBLAST

#JEZEBELGOTTAGO! #SECRETEXPOSED ##GODBLESSYOU #DIVINEJUSTICE #WITCHESONFIRE

WITCH, YOU NEED TO Get YOU some business so you can mind yours!!!! 

How come devil-worshippers are so very nosy?

#DEVIL! 

#WITCHEXPOSED #WITCHONBLAST

#JEZEBELGOTTAGO! #SECRETEXPOSED ##GODBLESSYOU #DIVINEJUSTICE #WITCHESONFIRE

9. I'm aware of the MULTIPLE SOUL TIES you've created against me. You secretly connected me with a variety of people in this building where we live, people whom I do not know, but YOU do.. starting with the woman who lives above me, the woman who lives in 304, and the woman who lives 

beneath me: 

  #WITCHEXPOSED #WITCHONBLAST

#JEZEBELGOTTAGO!#SECRETEXPOSED ##GODBLESSYOU #DIVINEJUSTICE #WITCHESONFIRE

10. I'm also aware of your helper, who lives beneath me, how she sends you text messages to alert you about simple things I'm doing in my apartment. 

Ya'll are BOTH RAW PETTY AND you need good jobs. Maybe something in security, LOL!

And Last time I checked, my apartment is in my name, and I do what I please in it! 

#DEVILS!

#WITCHEXPOSED #WITCHONBLAST

#JEZEBELGOTTAGO!#SECRETEXPOSED ##GODBLESSYOU #DIVINEJUSTICE #WITCHESONFIRE

11. I recall the time you attempted to use my waste, that I put in the toilet ,🚽 to try and find out more information about me. You evil, wicked witch-devil. I know that that minion crib-midget devil Jezebel warned you about me. Why you think now that EVERY SINGLE TIME I use the toilet, I always quote my favorite Bible verse: "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live"? 

#WITCHEXPOSED #WITCHONBLAST

#JEZEBELGOTTAGO!#SECRETEXPOSED ##GODBLESSYOUWITCH #DIVINEJUSTICE #WITCHESONFIRE

12. I'm also aware of the fact that someone from Darkness kingdom obtained access to my emails. So for months, I BEEN AWARE that JW has access to my emails. JW got access to my emails because she got it from one of her people's in Darkness kingdom. They texted her my information. That's a MAJOR form of communication with Darkness kingdom, is texting. 

Agents use it to report information to their local witches and authorities. 

I believe she got access to my emails as part of her demonic-Jezebel assignment against me, which was given to her by one of her authorities in Darkness kingdom, either Satan himself, or one of his Generals. 

JEZZ, 

I know that you wanted your reward SO BAD for destroying me, but once again, YOU FAIL. 

Failure is your Inheritance. 

PROGRESSION & BLESSINGS ARE MINE, 

PETTY JEZEBEL-WITCH:

Isaiah 54:17 (KJV) No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD, and their righteousness is of me, saith the LORD.

Proverbs 24:20 (KJV)  For there shall be no reward to the evil man; the candle of the wicked shall be put out.

#WITCHEXPOSED #WITCHONBLAST

#JEZEBELGOTTAGO!#SECRETEXPOSED ##GODBLESSYOU #DIVINEJUSTICE #WITCHESONFIRE

I DECREE AND DECLARE:

Witch, I Revoke your Power and I diminish your authority by the Blood of Jesus Christ, by The Blood of Yashaya.

Jezebel demon, I decree and declare that you will be ground into fine powder and eaten by Heaven's hound dogs, by the Blood of Jesus Christ, by The Blood of Yashaya.

I forgive you witch-devil, you and ALL your agent minions for ALL your Evil Folly! In the name of Jesus Christ, in the name of Yashaya.

AMEN!

#STORYTIME: The Light 🕯️ That Would Not Bow ✓ Only One Afi Blog✨

#STORYTIME: 

The Light 🕯️ 

That Would Not Bow

For more than fifteen years, Mara had known Elias as the safest place in the world.

They grew up on the same street, shared scraped knees and late-night talks, and carried each other through griefs too heavy for children to bear alone. As the years passed, Mara—soft-spoken, light-hearted, and quietly luminous—found her heart anchoring itself to him in ways she never named aloud. Elias was steady, brilliant, and uncommonly confident. Wherever he went, doors opened. People listened.

She thought it was leadership.

She thought it was blessing.

What she did not know was that Elias lived two separate lives.

By day, he was admired: well dressed, successful, respected in elite circles. By night, he moved in rooms without windows, spoke names not written in heaven, and rose quickly through ranks powered not by talent—but by allegiance. Elias was not merely involved in darkness; he had mastered it. He was a high-ranking sorcerer, well paid, influential, and celebrated in a world that thrived on rebellion against God.

And Mara loved him.

The truth reached her slowly, gradually, like a crack spreading through glass. Strange symbols. Conversations that ended when she entered the room. A coldness in places where warmth once lived. The final revelation came not from Elias, but from a moment she could not explain: standing alone in her bedroom, she felt a crushing weight—fear without form—followed by a single, clear thought that was not her own:

Pray.

Mara had not prayed in years. But the word burned in her chest. She whispered the name of Jesus, unsure why, and the weight lifted.

The next day, she confronted Elias.

At first, he laughed. Then he watched her carefully. Finally, he told her the truth—not with shame, but with pride. He spoke of power, influence, ancient knowledge. He told her that faith was weakness, that God was a myth invented to control the fearful.

And then he asked her to stay.

Mara realized in that moment that love alone could not save a soul unwilling to be saved.

Her heart broke, but her spirit stood.

“I can’t walk where God isn’t welcome,” she said, her voice trembling but unyielding. “And I won’t bow to what opposes Him.”

Elias warned her. He told her she would regret walking away. He said she would be alone.

But Mara left.

The days that followed were heavy. Grief pressed against her chest like a stone. Yet in the silence, she opened a Bible she had not touched since childhood. Yet its pages felt alive beneath her fingers.

She read:

“For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” (Mark 8:36)

She wept.

She prayed—not for vengeance, not for justice—but for Elias.

Darkness does not surrender easily.

Elias’s power grew, but his peace vanished. The rituals demanded more. The voices never rested. Success felt hollow. And for the first time, he remembered the girl who refused to follow him into the dark—not because she was weak, but because she was anchored to something stronger.

One night, alone and unraveling, Elias spoke the name he had mocked.

“Jesus.”

The room went silent.

Everything he had built collapsed in a single moment of truth. He saw what he had become—and what it had cost him.

The Bible says:

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5)

Elias fell to his knees.

Redemption was not instant, and restoration was not easy. But chains broke. Lies lost their voice. The power he once wielded burned away like ash.

Mara never chased him back into her life. She trusted God with what she could not carry.

Years later, they met again—older, changed, standing on holy ground neither of them had expected. Not as what they once were, but as testimonies of grace.

Love had not saved Elias.

Truth did.

And Mara learned that the greatest act of love is not holding on—but standing in the light, even when it costs you everything.

For “greater is He that is in you, than he that is in the world.” (1 John 4:4)

#STORYTIME: FANTASY JAGUIRE: A MOTHER'S LOVE ✓ ONLY ONE AFI BLOG✨

 

Fantasy Jaguire
In San Antonio, Texas—where heat rises from the pavement like memory and prayer—there lived a woman named Fantasy Jaguire.

Her beauty stopped people mid-thought. Dark brown skin like polished obsidian kissed by the sun, eyes that carried both mercy and fire. When Fantasy walked, it wasn’t arrogance—it was gravity. The kind that bends rooms. The kind that reminds you some souls arrive already knowing who they are.

Her name was no accident.
Fantasy 😇😈 was named by her mother, Anastasia Champagne Jaguire, an exotic woman whose very presence felt like a prophecy unfolding. Anastasia believed names were spells, and she named her daughter with intention, audacity, and love so fierce it frightened lesser spirits.

“Fantasy,” she whispered the day her daughter was born, pressing her lips to newborn skin, “because this world will try to convince you that beauty, power, and goodness cannot live in the same body. You will prove it wrong.”
Anastasia was both soft and dangerous—champagne laughter hiding steel resolve. She had lived long enough to know the truth most people learn too late:
Love is not weak. Love is the most violent force in existence—violent against despair, against evil, against every lie that says you won’t survive.

Fantasy grew up between worlds.
Between church songs and street noise.
Between angelic tenderness and a devil-may-care defiance that refused to bow.
She learned early that being a woman like her meant being misunderstood. Desired but not protected. Watched but not seen. Judged for shining too brightly in a world that profits from dimming women down.
Yet every time life tried to break her, her mother’s love rose up like armor.
When Fantasy cried, Anastasia prayed.
When Fantasy doubted, Anastasia reminded.
When Fantasy was tempted to shrink, Anastasia spoke her full name like a command:
“Fantasy Champagne Jaguire. You are not here to survive quietly.”
And the mystery of life revealed itself in small, holy moments:
A mother standing between her daughter and harm.
A phone call answered at 3 a.m. without complaint.
A love so deep it crossed generations, curses, and fear.
Fantasy eventually understood something the world forgets:
Love doesn’t just conquer all—it outlives all.
It outlives beauty.
It outlives mistakes.
It outlives death itself.
The love of a mother is ancient, relentless, and supernatural. It shapes destiny. It rewrites endings. It teaches a daughter that even when she walks alone, she is never unprotected.
Today, when people see Fantasy Jaguire, they see confidence, allure, power.
What they don’t see is the invisible crown placed on her head by a woman named Anastasia—
a mother whose love refused to let her daughter become anything less than extraordinary.
And that is the greatest mystery of all:
Before the world ever loved Fantasy, she was already conquered—by love.

#STORYTIME: BATON ROUGE FLAME ✓ ONLY ONE AFI BLOG ✨

This story is about a beautiful 😍 young woman from Baton Rouge, LA who had a vivid burning flame for the most High God...

Every Bible scripture, was carefully etched in to her memory. With her strong Louisiana accent, she can recite back every story in the Bible. This mighty soul can't help it. She has a strong vulnerability and closeness for God. She absolutely adores the most High. And she earns such an intimate and positive connection with Him, that it unravels in this story, the details unravel here, I mean... 

Chapter One: The Flame 🔥 in Baton Rouge

The streets of Baton Rouge hummed with the ordinary rhythm of life — jazz spilling from corner cafés, children chasing each other beneath the shade of oak trees, and the Mississippi River rolling steadily past. Yet in the midst of this familiar backdrop lived a young woman whose spirit seemed anything but ordinary...  

Her neighbors often spoke of her as “the girl with the fire.” It wasn’t a fire that consumed wood or left ashes behind, but a flame that burned in her soul for the Most High God. From childhood, she had memorized Scripture with a devotion that startled even her Sunday school teachers. By the time she was grown, she could recite entire books of the Bible, weaving them into conversation as naturally as breathing.  

She adored the Word not as a scholar but as a lover. Every verse was a letter from her Beloved, every story a reminder of His faithfulness. When she prayed, her voice carried both trembling reverence and unshakable confidence. Her closeness to God was not something she tried to earn — it was something she lived, moment by moment, breath by breath.  

Chapter Two: A Living Testimony

Her devotion began to ripple outward. On warm evenings, she sat on her porch with her worn Bible open, and children gathered at her feet. She told them of David’s courage, Esther’s bravery, and Paul’s endurance. Her words painted vivid pictures, and the children listened wide‑eyed, as though the ancient stories were unfolding right there in Baton Rouge.  

Adults, too, found themselves drawn to her. Neighbors stopped by to hear her speak, and elders from the church nodded with reverence, recognizing that her flame was divine. She was not simply reciting Scripture — she was breathing life into it.  

When storms battered the city, she stood unshaken, declaring promises from Psalms. When sickness touched her family, she prayed with authority, quoting Isaiah’s words of healing. When doubt crept into the hearts of her friends, she reminded them of Christ’s victory with passages from Romans and Revelation.  

Her life became a testimony. Joy radiated from her, peace surrounded her, and faith anchored her. She became a beacon in Baton Rouge, a living example of what it meant to walk hand in hand with the Most High.  

Chapter Three: The Spark of Revival

It wasn’t long before her flame began to ignite others. A small prayer circle formed around her porch, then grew into gatherings at the church. People who had once drifted from faith returned, stirred by her passion. Strangers who had never opened a Bible found themselves captivated by her storytelling, her sincerity, and the undeniable presence of God that seemed to rest upon her.  

Her city began to change. Families reconciled, addictions were broken, and hope returned to weary hearts. She never claimed credit — she always pointed back to the One she adored. “It is not me,” she would say softly, “but the Word alive in me.”  

Her story became more than her own. It was the story of a community rekindled, of a city reminded that God’s Word is not a relic of the past but a living flame that can light the present. And through her, Baton Rouge discovered that one burning soul can spark a movement of faith, intimacy, and love that no darkness can extinguish.

#STORYTIME: SHENANIGANS AT THE WORKPLACE ✓ ONLY ONE AFI BLOG✨

 

#STORYTIME #VIDEO

Sit back and ENJOY! 🎬 This video dives into workplace shenanigans and the classic Tom Foolery that seems to be heavily occuring nowadays—while delivering a powerful reminder to every chosen one: Let your Light 🕯️ shine bright!  

Content brought to you by:

JoAnna Jewell | YouTube. 

#RISE&RECIEVE

YOURPOWER

#INTHENAME

OFTHELIVINGGOD

#AHAYAHASHERAHAYAH

#YASHHAYA

#STORYTIME: Robert Ankum Story: From Tragedy to Triumphant by God ✓ ONLY ONE AFI BLOG✨

🔥 #STORYTIME: Robert Ankum Story: From Tragedy to Triumphant by God ✓ ONLY ONE AFI BLOG✨ 

This blazing story is fire 🔥 🔥 🔥.  It's Fire because a young, handsome man named Robert Ankum, from Arizona, who went from being a superficial thug to God's Mogul, at the pulpit and on stage, hitting the highest, exotic music 🎵 notes taking over any choir! 

Explains Robert, "Alright, so I didn't make the right decisions back then, but Now What?"

This is a powerful novella about love, patience, endurance, tribulations, and finally excellent triumph. This story consists of a handsome young man with strong will and determination defeating and overcoming various challenges and obstacles throughout his life. God was with this young man. He thought he was forgotten, but he really wasn't.

Robert Ankum — a man who rose from the ashes of his past to become a blazing light for God and music.

🔥 "Now What: The Rise of Robert Ankum"

Chapter 1: Desert Shadows

In the sun-scorched streets of Phoenix, Arizona, Robert Ankum was known for two things: his looks and his recklessness. With a jawline carved like sandstone and eyes that flickered like desert fire, he had the charm to lead and the rage to destroy. He ran with the wrong crowd — not because he was evil, but because he was empty. The streets gave him a name, but not a purpose.

He wore pride like a badge, and pain like a chain. His voice, deep and melodic, was wasted on shouting matches and late-night bravado. Music was in him, but it was buried beneath the noise of survival.

Chapter 2: The Breaking Point

One night, after a fight that left his knuckles bloodied and his spirit cracked, Robert stood alone under a flickering streetlight. The silence was deafening. He looked up and whispered, “God, if you’re real, show me something. Anything.”

That night, he dreamed of a pulpit. Not a stage of violence, but a stage of victory. He saw himself dressed in white, surrounded by voices, lifting notes so high they pierced the heavens. He woke up crying — not from fear, but from hope.

Chapter 3: The Wilderness Years

Transformation didn’t come easy. Robert walked away from the streets, but the streets didn’t walk away from him. He faced betrayal, poverty, and isolation. Friends mocked him. Family doubted him. He worked odd jobs, slept in his car, and sang in empty churches where the only audience was God.

But he kept singing. Every note was a prayer. Every melody was a battle cry. He studied scripture like it was oxygen. He fasted. He prayed. He wept. And slowly, the thug became a theologian. The fighter became a worshiper.

Chapter 4: The Anointing

One Sunday, a choir director at a local church heard Robert humming in the back pew. She turned, stunned. “Who are you?” she asked.

“Just someone who’s been through it,” he replied.

She invited him to sing. The moment his voice hit the mic, the room shifted. His tone was exotic, powerful, drenched in soul and sanctification. People cried. People danced. People fell to their knees. Robert wasn’t just singing — he was ministering.

Word spread. Churches called. Conferences booked him. Choirs begged him to lead. He wasn’t just a singer; he was a vessel. And when he preached, fire fell. His testimony was raw, unfiltered, and drenched in grace.

“Alright,” he’d say from the pulpit, “so I didn’t make the right decisions back then… but Now What? Now I walk with God. Now I sing for souls. Now I rise.”

Chapter 5: God’s Mogul

Robert built more than a platform — he built a movement. He started a mentorship program for young men in Arizona, teaching them music, scripture, and self-worth. He launched a gospel label, giving voice to the voiceless. He preached in prisons, sang in stadiums, and never forgot the streetlight where he first cried out.

He became known as “God’s Mogul” — not for wealth, but for influence. His life was the sermon. His scars were sacred. His smile was proof that redemption was Real.

Chapter 6: The Triumph

Years later, standing on a stage in front of thousands, Robert looked out and saw faces that mirrored his past — broken, searching, hungry. He lifted the mic and sang a note so high, so pure, it felt like heaven cracked open.

He paused and said, “I thought I was forgotten. But God never forgot me. He was writing my story the whole time.”

And the crowd roared — not for the man, but for the miracle.

🔥 This is Robert Ankum’s story. From thug to theologian. From chaos to choir.

From the streets to the scriptures.  

From turmoil to testimony.  

From overlooked to chosen.  

A living reflection of God’s mercy, compassion, and grace.

From forgotten to  favored. This is the ultimate representation of God. 

END 🔚 

#STORYTIME: My Vision of Heaven ✓ A Realm of Pure Joy, Perfect Peace, & Extreme Harmony 🌟 ✓ ONLY ONE AFI BLOG✨

 

#STORYTIME: My Vision of Heaven: A Realm of Pure Joy, Perfect Peace, and Extreme Harmony 🌟 ✓ONLY ONE AFI BLOG✨

Thank you for joining me as I share my Vision of Heaven, an absolutely gorgeous, engaging, and effortlessly pragmatic place is so full of joy, unwavering peace, and perpetual happiness that more words can hardly describe it. 

Please Allow Activation of your imagination for like the next ten or fifteen minutes to expand your mind with mines as we both explore an extremely Exquisite and Exotic-shimmering realm, a realm by mere Negativity—a Realm that was ultimately created by and that essentially belongs to the Universal Magistrate, the God of ALL Gods, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the Alpha and Omega, the God who IS and Always Was: 

Ahayah Asher Ahayah, 

(Exodus 3,13-15 KJV). 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

In my Vision, this Heavenly Realm is an extremely Supreme and powerful realm radiating joy, happiness, a striking variety of positive, echoing productive topics and positive conversations with seemingly endless laughter. You IMMEDIATELY FEEL it's absorbing presence when you're there. You IMMEDIATELY know where you are once you arrive. I can feel that energy. It's kinda hard Not to pick up on the limitless energies, but it's all in THAT Positive Energy... There's something outright captivating about that Realm... It makes me wanna gasp for air. 

1. An Atmosphere of Pure Joy and Happiness: 

🖼️ PICTURE THIS: A thick, powerful energetic realm which radiates joy, happiness, and an overwhelming sense of contentment. The energy is so saturated with purity that even the mere thought of sadness or anger is just impossible. That's Right, I said it, Any Negativity is Completely Impossible! 

Here, ALL negativity is simply Absent, and all conversations and interactions are just naturally filled with positivity, productivity, love, and continuously unfiltered and roaring laughter. 

“The joy of the Lord is your strength.” — Nehemiah 8:10

“You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.” — Psalm 16:11

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” — Philippians 4:4

2. An Unbreakable State of Contentment:

In this Realm, you could try with all your Might to feel anger, frustration, or a even bit of dissatisfaction, but you would only find yourself completely incapable, and maybe even busted out from the loss of energy from attempting to conjure up negativity. (Laughing)

The very fabric, the very effort, the very point of this existence is designed to shield ALL its residents from harm and negativity. Time to Activate Peace and Chill mode. Harm is Negativity's cousin. 

Once Negativity is invited, Harm is not far away from the location, if you understand what I mean. Contentment is not just a feeling here, it is a divine energetic treasure and a natural state of being, a well-loved state of existence, and a state of life.

“And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” — Philippians 4:7

“For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit.” — Romans 14:17

“You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.” — Isaiah 26:3 

3. A Realm of Complete Purity and Light:

ALL Negativity, ALL darkness—including energies like anger, bitterness, fear, illness, and suffering—have NO place in this Heaven which I enVision...

It is a Superior realm where ANY sign of darkness cannot prevail, not even penetrate, as spiritual light floods and saturates Every corner, as well as Peace and calm essence over-reigns! Everything Here is aligned with Boundless love, contagious joy, utter  positivity, productivity, and contagious purity. There's not enough space for hatred, regret, or even sorrow. Now, imagine that?

“God is light; in him there is no darkness at all.” — 1 John 1:5

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” — Revelation 21:4

“For I will restore health to you, and your wounds I will heal, declares the Lord.” — Jeremiah 30:17

4. A Place of Complete Fulfillment for All

In this Heaven I imagine, there is No One left wanting or lacking. All who reside here—no matter their walk of life, their hue or tone, their background, their past, or their language—ALL are fully satisfied, their hearts and even their souls are well-nourished. Every need is met, and there is a feeling of simple, yet profound wholeness and unwavering belonging.

“He satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things.” — Psalm 107:9

“The Lord is my shepherd; I lack nothing.” — Psalm 23:1

“And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.” — Philippians 4:19

5. A Realm Where ALL Creatures Reside in Peace

A portion of Heaven is dedicated to the animals, a place where lost, beloved pets—dogs, cats, birds, even emus—reunite with their human companions when they once lived on Earth. They all live in peace, nourishment, are well satisfied, and well provided for. Even the more dangerous creatures are placed in a separate, yet safe area of the realm, where the same harmony and contentment still prevails.

“The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them.” — Isaiah 11:6

“The righteous care for the needs of their animals…” — Proverbs 12:10

“And I heard a voice from heaven like the roar of rushing waters and like a loud peal of thunder. The voice I heard was like that of harpists playing their harps.” — Revelation 14:2

In Heaven, the beauty of the natural world is intertwined with the Divine, and all beings, human spirits and animal spirits alike, experience eternal peace, joy, and fulfillment. It's a place where not a single soul is ever abandoned, hurting, left out, or without genuine love. 

We are all united in this glorious existence, together with the Divine, bathed in love, light, and living in perfect harmony. 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

INVITATION FOR THE READERS... 

Now that you have finished reading my Vision, what are your thoughts? 💭 How do you feel right now? Do you feel spiritually better Now or before you read this page? 

Do you have any specific suggestions or anything to add to the Heavenly Realm? 

Thanks for Reading! Enjoy your day!

#STORYTIME: 🔥 Dancing Through the Fire: The Chacara Gordon Story 🔥 ✓ ONLY ONE AFI BLOG✨

 

This blazing story is fire 🔥 🔥 🔥, it's a novella about love, patience, endurance, tribulations, and finally excellent triumph. This story consists of a beautiful, exotic-looking Black woman named CHACARA GORDON who worked as a dancer while she went to school at night for nursing but by all accounts,  CHACARA is not who people said she was. They had a total misconception about Ms. Gordon because they were ignorant to the fact that CHACARA has Mighty Faith, and she Proves it after a saddening death of a close loved one, her Aunt Stella Gordon from Mississippi. 

CHACARA endures several trials and tribulations but of course, with God's hand on her, how can CHACARA fail?

🔥 Dancing Through the Fire: The Chacara Gordon Story 🔥  

A Faith-Filled Novella with Dialogue & Emotion

Chapter One – Rhythm & Resolve  

The spotlight splashed gold over Chacara, every movement painting flames in the smoky air. She spun, dipped, and rose, her curls catching glimmers as the music pulsed through her body.  

From the back of the club, someone whispered:  

She’s got talent…but she ain’t nothing but a dancer." 

Their words slid off her like water on steel.  

If only they knew… school at 8 a.m., hospital training at noon, dance work at night, she thought as she smiled through the performance. If only they knew the prayers I whisper to keep moving. 

---

Chapter Two – Porch Light in Mississippi  

The scent of fried catfish and fresh cornbread greeted Chacara every time she stepped onto Aunt Stella’s porch. The evening air was thick with music — the kind you hum from the heart.  

"Come here, baby girl." Aunt Stella’s voice was tender yet strong.  

Chacara sat on the swing, resting her head on her aunt’s shoulder.  

"Auntie, people talk about me, sayin’ I’m wasting my time dancing."  

Stella chuckled, her silver hair shimmering under the porch light.  

"Let them talk. Honey, the Lord sees the truth. You’re working hard, using the gifts He gave you — He’ll take care of what they don’t understand."  

"But sometimes… it feels like maybe they’re right."  

Stella squeezed her hand firmly.  

"Faith ain’t about what you see right now, Cha. It’s about trusting Who’s holding your future. Baby, you’ve got fire in you. Don’t ever let ‘em smother it." 🔥  

---

Chapter Three – The Call That Broke the Silence

Two years later, during a late nursing lecture, Chacara’s phone buzzed. She stepped out into the cold hallway.  

"Cha… it’s your cousin. Aunt Stella… she passed this morning."  

The words cracked the air. Her knees buckled. She pressed herself to the wall, clutching the phone. Tears blurred the tile floor.  

Inside her mind was only the sound of Aunt Stella’s voice saying "Don’t let ‘em smother your fire."  

---

Chapter Four – Storms Without Mercy  

Life didn’t pause. Rent collected dust on her kitchen counter. Her knee injury screamed with each dance. Judgments grew sharper: "How can you be a nurse if you work in a club?"  

At night, she prayed:  

"Lord, You took my anchor, but I know You still guide my ship. Give me strength… even if all I can do is crawl forward."  

One evening, limping backstage, a fellow dancer scoffed,  

"Girl, why kill yourself like this? Just quit school and make good money right here."  

Chacara’s eyes burned — not from shame, but from resolve.  

"I’m not quitin’. I promised Aunt Stella I’d finish. And I promised God I’d be who He called me to be."  

---

Chapter Five – Breakthrough Moments  

Her knee began healing after weeks of disciplined therapy. She walked into the scholarship committee meeting with head high, ready to explain her unusual life.  

A stern professor frowned. "Ms. Gordon, your… *extracurricular* activities raise questions about professionalism."  

Deep breath.  

"Sir, I dance to pay for tuition. And to survive. But my grades — my patient care — my discipline speak louder than anyone’s assumptions. When I’m in that hospital, I am a nurse. And when I’m on that stage, I am a woman of faith doing what I must to get there."  

Silence. Then, the words that changed everything:  

"Scholarship restored."  

---

Chapter Six – The Triumph"  

Graduation was a sea of white uniforms and bright smiles. Chacara walked the stage, diploma in hand, heart hammering. In her mind, she saw Aunt Stella leaning on her porch railing, proud eyes glistening.  

She whispered to the wind,  

"We did it, Auntie. Your fire’s still burning in me." 🌹🔥  

---

Epilogue – Passing the Torch

Chacara founded The Stella Gordon Foundation to help women judged by their appearances but burning with hidden ambition. During the first award ceremony, she stood at the podium in a long flowing dress, voice clear:  

"When God’s hand is on you, you can walk through every fire and still come out dancing. I am not who they said I was… I am who God says I am."

And the crowd, many wiping tears, rose to their feet.  

--

#STORYTIME: SPIRITS OF EVIL & WITCHCRAFT ✓ ONLY ONE AFI BLOG✨

 

SPIRITS OF EVIL AND WITCHCRAFT: A SHORT STORY ✓ ONLY ONE AFI BLOG✨

This powerful story is about an eerie experience that a young, female, med student has experienced and vents about; which took place at her job. Based on her account, it appears that the spirits of Evil and Witchcraft reared their dreadful presences in to this situation. 

Enjoy the video. Content brought to you by: Yanos Extra|YouTube.

What do you think? 🤔🤔🤔

#STORYTIME: TARVAIS MICHAEL✓"THAT JESUS HEALING"✓ONLY ONE AFI BLOG✨

"Luke 8:43-48 (KJV) And a woman having an issue of blood twelve years, which had spent all her living upon physicians, neither could be healed of any,

Came behind him, and touched the border of his garment: and immediately her issue of blood stanched.

And Jesus said, Who touched me? When all denied, Peter and they that were with him said, Master, the multitude throng thee and press thee, and sayest thou, Who touched me?

And Jesus said, Somebody hath touched me: for I perceive that virtue is gone out of me.

And when the woman saw that she was not hid, she came trembling, and falling down before him, she declared unto him before all the people for what cause she had touched him, and how she was healed immediately.

And he said unto her, Daughter, be of good comfort: thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace.

 

"That Jesus Healing"

There was a young, dark, and handsome young man named TARVAIS MICHAEL — a Father of two who was also the culprit involved in a gang-stalking event just two years earlier. Tarvais knew that his participation in gang-stalking a local female he didn't even know was wrong, but somewhere deep down, it troubled him. He participated in doing it for one year, until he ended up developing a cancerous tumor on his gut. 

This powerful story is about how Tarvais gets a precious spiritual gift and a dose of "that Jesus Healing", as told in a similar story in the Bible, Luke 8:43-48 of the Holy Bible. This story has a powerful and productive ending... 

In a dimly lit apartment in a run-down area of the city, Tarvais Michael sat on a threadbare couch, his thoughts swirling around like the smoke from the cigarette clutched in his fingers. He had once been a figure people admired for his bright smile, his positive attitude, his darkly handsome features, and powerful charisma that seemed to draw in even the most reluctant hearts. But two years of his life previously had changed everything.

Tarvais was a single father of two, with wide-eyed children who saw him as their hero, completely unaware of the dark shadows that clung to their father’s past. Two years prior, he had chosen a path that led him into the murky waters of gang-stalking. To blend in with the crowd of aimless  young men, he had partaken in the cruel torment of a local woman named Elara. Each night spent monitoring her movements, mocking her in hushed whispers, had gnawed at his conscience, leaving a heavy weight on his heart. Deep down, he questioned himself on how a man like him could engage in such a callous act against a stranger whose only crime was just living her life.

As the days turned into months, what once felt like a thrill began to eat away at him. The haunting image of Elara—the fear and tears in her eyes, the hurried steps as she walked to her car—became a dark echo within him, blending in with another growing fear: the relentless pain in his gut. It began as discomfort but escalated into a torment that stole his sense of everything. He finally sought medical advice only to face the grim diagnosis: he'd developed a cancerous tumor.

On the day of his diagnosis, he returned home to his children, their laughter filled the air like sweet music, completely unaware of the war raging inside their father. Tarvais held them close, fighting back the tears as guilt washed over him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, knowing they couldn’t hear his silent apologies for the man he had been.

Desperation drove him to search for answers and redemption. One night, he found himself wandering the streets, aimlessly but longing for peace. He stumbled into an old church, the flickering candlelight illuminating the worn pews. There, an elderly pastor spoke of healing and redemption, of the woman who touched Jesus’ cloak in faith and was restored.

Inspired, Tarvais felt a flicker of hope ignite within him. Could he, too, be healed? Not just of the disease eating away at him, but of the darkness in his heart?

Over the next few weeks, Tarvais began pouring himself into prayer and introspection. He reached out to Elara, seeking forgiveness in the most sincere way he knew how. To his surprise, she agreed to meet him. On a sun-soaked afternoon, they sat in a small coffee shop. As he laid bare his regrets, explaining how he had been caught in a tide of violence, she listened—an incredible silence wrapping around them. 

“I forgive you,” she finally said, her voice steady yet gentle. “Forgiveness is a light we carry to inform the darkness.” Her words pierced through him, and he felt layers of shame begin to peel away.

With renewed determination, Tarvais sought help from a doctor and began his cancer treatments. Every chemotherapy session felt like a battle against his past, but he faced it head-on. He pictured his children’s smiles and held onto the promise of a better tomorrow.

Then, one fateful Sunday, as Tarvais sat in the same old church, the pastor spoke again of miracles and faith. With a pounding heart, Tarvais rushed to the altar, tears streaming down his face as he prayed for healing—not just for his body, but for his soul.

As he rose, the sanctuary erupted in song. A warmth enveloped him, an assurance that he was not alone. It was as though the very air vibrated with a power he could not grasp. When he returned to his doctor, the tests revealed that his tumor was gone—shockingly, inexplicably gone. There was no scientific evidence of the tumor. 

Tarvais stood outside the office, sunlight streaming down on him, and he finally felt lighter. It was a new beginning, one that he vowed to fill with acts of kindness rather than fear and intimidation. He returned to Elara, not as a tormentor, but as a friend, someone committed to changing his life and giving back to the world he had once hurt.

As he embraced his children later that day, he held them tightly, a promise unspoken forming between them in that warm embrace. He guided them to believe in redemption, to seek light in the dark places of the world.

In the heart of that bustling city, Tarvais  transformed from a shadow into a beacon—a man reborn through faith, love, and the undeniable power of forgiveness. His story became a testament of healing that echoed through the streets, a reminder that even in the depths of despair, redemption was not only a possibility, but a promise waiting to unfold.

GOSPEL CHRONICLES: Nehemiah-Starr Burgess ✓ From Fashion Model to Model for Christ ✓ Only One Afi Blog✨

   

Gospel Chronicles: Nehemiah-Starr Burgess ✓ From Fashion Model to Model for Christ ✓ Only One Afi Blog

This story is about a young woman beauty who grew up in the modeling industry, Nehemiah-Starr. She was bred to professionally model from the age of 12. 

While boosting her career, at age 24, she meets her future husband under fun circumstances. At age 27, she has a powerful spiritual encounter that charges her heart to become a spiritual model for the Most High. 

And how'd she do this? She went from being a professional model to a God's Law model. Having a burning desire to please the Lord, She made a conscious decision and stuck to it. Nehemiah turned an interruption of her career in to a placement of power! 

In the glimmering, high-paced world of modeling, Nehemiah-Starr had always been a star waiting to shine. From the tender age of 12, she was plucked from obscurity and thrust into a life that many would envy but few could truly understand. Under the glare of flashbulbs and the weight of designers' expectations, she has learned to navigate the complexities of beauty, grace, and expectation. The runway felt like home, yet deep down, she sensed a void that no amount of glamour could fill.

As Nehemiah-Starr catapulted through the ranks of the fashion world, the pressures mounted. By the time she reached 24, she was a sought-after name, gracing the covers of popular magazines and walking for renowned designers. It was during a charity gala—a respite from her hectic schedule—where a spark of serendipity ignited her life. She met Leo, a warm-hearted photographer with a passion for capturing souls and exotic body poses rather than just faces. Their constant laughter blended effortlessly, and in that instant, something shifted for Nehemiah. 

Leo wasn't dazzled by the bright lights that surrounded her. Instead, he saw the real Starr, the one whose heart yearned for something beyond the superficial surface. Their relationship flourished amid the backdrop of the fashion world, providing Nehemiah-Starr with a glimpse into a life that valued authenticity over appearances. They shared dreams, aspirations, and late-night talks that wandered into the realm of spirituality and purpose.

As they celebrated their third anniversary, at the age of 27, everything changed. A seemingly ordinary day turned extraordinary when Starr found herself in an unexpected spiritual encounter during a quiet moment of prayer. There, she felt a presence stronger than any applause, guiding her toward a profound realization: modeling had been her craft, but sanctity could be her calling.

In that transformative moment, she made a decision that would redefine her life. With an unprecedented clarity, Nehemiah felt called to use her platform to reflect God’s glory rather than merely human ideals of beauty. She sought to become a model not just in the material world but a spiritual beacon, showcasing the virtues of faith, humility, forgiveness, and love. Starr’s heart burned with a desire to please the Lord, and she envisioned her life as an embodiment of divine beauty and purpose.

Starr's transition wasn’t without challenges. The fashion industry, known for its fickleness, raised eyebrows as she began to decline conventional jobs in favor of pursuits that aligned with her new mission. She started organizing events that promoted self-love and faith, using her once glamorized image to influence young women, encouraging them to see beauty in their unique selves, crafted by a loving creator.

Many criticized her, accusing her of throwing away a successful career. But Starr knew better; she had found her true placement in the grand tapestry of life. In moments of uncertainty, she turned to bible scripture, drawing strength from her hyphenated name first name Nehemiah, who transformed interruptions into powerful placements, reminding her that her journey was part of a far greater plan.

As she spoke at conferences, participated in charity events, and led workshops, Nehemiah-Starr became a role model for many—one who reflected the light of Christ in a world often overshadowed by darkness. Her passion ignited a movement about redefining success, urging individuals everywhere to find authenticity and wholeness in their pursuits. 

Through her journey, Starr Burgess transformed from a popular fashion model to a spiritual model for the Most High, embodying grace and love that surpassed the runway's allure. She created waves that rippled through her community and beyond, reminding all that true beauty originates within, anchored by faith and empowered by divine purpose. 

In the end, it wasn’t just about how she presented herself, but how she transformed her life—a rendezvous with destiny that reshaped not only her world, but the hearts of many who cared for her and followed in her footsteps.

 

#STORYTIME: TIFFINI DEBREEZIO STORY OF FAITH: ARISE FROM THE ASHES✓ONLY ONE AFI BLOG✨

#STORYTIME: TIFFINI DEBREEZIO STORY OF FAITH✓ONLY ONE AFI BLOG✨

ARISE FROM THE ASHES

This story is about a beautiful Nubian sister who had a great deal of trauma in her life and with many pit falls, situations that forced her to have a stubborn faith in the most High God. 

Facing death in her family, hardcore tragedies, and some powerful let-downs, Tiffini strives because she has a strong faith and a stronger voice to match. This story has some violence, some sadness through a death in the family, but soon elevates to a powerful, positive, and impactful ending. 

In the heart of Nubia, where the sun cast golden hues over the sprawling deserts, lived Tiffini, a woman whose beauty was as striking as the arid landscape around her. But beneath her radiant exterior lay shadows of trauma and scars of a past filled with heartache. Tiffini had endured too much for someone so young—pain that would have crushed lesser souls, yet it only fueled the flame of her resilient spirit.

Her life took a significant turn when she lost her beloved grandmother, Rosa DeBreezio. Rosa was the anchor in Tiffini’s turbulent seas, a refuge of wisdom and warmth amidst chaos. The news of her death struck Tiffini with the force of a desert storm. Rosa had always been more than a grandmother; she was a sage, imparting lessons of faith, perseverance, and the importance of relying on the most High God in times of strife. Tiffini remembered Rosa’s sweet lullabies—melodies that cradled her to sleep and whispered of hope amid despair.

But life had a cruel way of testing her faith. Just weeks after Rosa's passing, Tiffini faced another blow. The family she had leaned on fractured under the weight of their grief, resulting in bitter quarrels and accusations. In their darkest hours, anger spilled forth like venom, and the home that once echoed with laughter turned into a battlefield. Tiffini, caught in the crossfire, felt the painful twinge of betrayal but refused to let it consume her.

The trauma intensified as memories of her turbulent childhood resurfaced. Tiffini had lived through domestic violence, her father’s desperate struggles with drug addiction, and the chaotic echoes of nightly arguments that shattered her dreams of safety. Each memory was a thorn embedded deep within her heart, but instead of succumbing to despair, she clung to the thin thread of faith woven into her very being. “Strength comes not from absence of pain but from its understanding,” Rosa, her beloved Grandma had taught her.

As she navigated her grief, Tiffini often wandered to the old acacia tree where Rosa had sat and shared countless stories under its shade. Sitting there, Tiffini found solace and clarity. She poured her heart into prayer, seeking assurance from the most High God that her life held purpose, even in the face of adversity. With each prayer, she felt the weight of her sorrow lift slightly, replaced by a stubborn determination to honor her grandmother's legacy.

One day, while tending to the community garden, Tiffini witnessed a brawl erupt among local youths, a prelude to the violence that often plagued her neighborhood. The sight ignited something within her—a fierce need to articulate her pain and anger. With a strength she didn’t know she possessed, she stepped forward, her voice cutting through the chaos like a beacon in the night. “Enough!” she shouted, her heart pounding with both fear and resolve. “You have the power to create change instead of destruction!”

Her words hung in the air, shocking everyone into silence. In that moment, Tiffini felt Rosa’s spirit guide her, emboldening her to speak truths that had been buried too long. The youths paused, and what began as a volatile encounter transformed into a conversation that sparked understanding—a ripple effect that resonated within their troubled hearts.

Tiffini’s voice grew louder in the community, advocating for peace, healing, and resilience. She organized gatherings that brought people together to share their stories, reminding them of their innate strength derived from their faith in the most High God. With every face she touched, she rekindled the collective power of shared vulnerability and hope.

Tragedy turned to triumph as her influence widened, and she became a catalyst for change. The garden she nurtured flourished, becoming a sanctuary where conversations flourished and healing began. No longer was Tiffini merely a victim of her circumstances; she transformed into a warrior of light, carrying the lessons of her past as her armor.

When the first anniversary of Rosa’s passing arrived, Tiffini stood beneath the acacia tree, surrounded by those whose lives she had touched. With tears of gratitude glistening in her eyes, she spoke of loss, love, and the unwavering faith that guided her through the darkest valleys. “Rosa’s spirit lives on in all of us,” she proclaimed, her voice ringing out across the gathering. “Let her legacy remind us that even amid sorrow, we can rise and become beacons of hope for ourselves and others.”

In that profound moment, surrounded by love and healing, Tiffini found the peace she had long sought. The powerful impact of her journey echoed in every heart, demonstrating that from the depths of despair could rise a voice unbroken—a voice that channeled pain into purpose, transforming trauma into triumph.

And so, the beautiful Nubian sister, with her stubborn faith and unwavering spirit, became a testament to resilience in a world that often sought to silence her. Her life, marked by love, loss, and profound transformation, shone brightly, illuminating the path for others yearning to reclaim their stories and embrace the power within them. Tiffini had not only survived; she thrived, embodying the legacy of her grandmother and carrying forth the light of faith into the world.

#STORYTIME✓ABOUT ANEMUS NIKOLAI✓ONLY ONE AFI BLOG✨

 

#STORYTIME✓ABOUT ANEMUS NIKOLI✓ONLY ONE AFI BLOG✨

This powerful story is about a young, handsome, Asian young man named Anemus Nikoli from Munich, Germany. 

This young man experiences a sincere lesson in life when the Almighty reveals to him his personal sin of selfishness. Everything, and I do mean Everything had to be about Anemus. Little did he know, he'd graduated to the point in life where Anemus had to be corrected and reproved. 

The hit hurt Anemus badly. It damaged his big ego, but Anemus has boundless inner strength to overcome any challenges. He had the courage to actually learn what God was showing him through his continuing experiences. Anemus rose right up to the challenge and finally overcame with astounding victory! 

This story proves to be another triumphing and powerful story. Enjoy!

In the bustling city of Munich, Germany, there lived a young man named Anemus Nikoli. With his striking features and captivating charm, he was accustomed to drawing attention wherever he went. At just twenty-five, he was a rising star in the marketing world and often found himself at glamorous parties and elite gatherings. But beneath the surface of his polished exterior lay a deep-seated flaw: a fierce selfishness that had gradually taken over his life.

Anemus was beloved by many, yet few understood the emptiness that loomed behind his smile. He thrived on admiration, relishing the accolades without ever considering the sacrifices others made to lift him. As he rose higher, so did his ego, blinding him to the importance of compassion and humility. 

One evening, after an extravagant celebration of his latest promotion, Anemus wandered through Munich’s historic streets, reflecting on his success. The air was crisp, and the stars shone brightly above, yet a sense of foreboding gnawed at his conscience. Suddenly, amidst the silence, a voice resonated in his heart, sharp yet gentle. “Anemus, you have let your desires consume you. Look closely at the pain you cause to those around you.” 

Startled, Anemus stumbled, gripping a nearby lamppost for support. The utter honesty of this revelation struck him like a physical blow. In that moment, his self-perception shattered, exposing the fragility of his spirit beneath the weight of his arrogance. He felt an overwhelming wave of shame mixed with confusion. How had he become so blind to the needs of others?

Days turned into weeks, and Anemus was haunted by the voice that had unmasked his selfishness. Struggling with the pain of self-reflection, he began to pay closer attention to those around him. He started volunteering at local shelters, listening to the stories of those less fortunate. Though he initially approached these acts as self-improvement, he found something deeper within himself—a connection with humanity that filled the void he hadn’t recognized before.

But the journey to transformation was anything but easy. The inner critic tormented him day and night, reminding him of his past transgressions. Each misstep felt like a dagger to his heart, and Anemus grappled with the idea of forgiveness—both seeking it from others and granting it to himself. Some days, he was tempted to revert to his old ways, seeking solace in the superficial approval of others.

One autumn morning, while volunteering, Anemus met Maria, an elderly woman with a sparkling smile that belied her struggles. As they spoke, she shared her life story filled with hardship and resilience, her spirit unbroken by the trials she faced. Anemus was captivated—Maria had an unwavering belief in the goodness of people, despite their flaws.

“Everyone has a story, dear,” she advised, her voice warm and sonorous. “It is our duty to lift one another up, especially when we stumble. Your past does not define you; it’s how you choose to move forward that counts.”

Inspired, Anemus realized that true strength lay not in the accolades he received but in the kindness he could offer. He committed himself to a new purpose: to be a beacon of hope and support in his community. With each laugh and tear shared, he began to rebuild the bridges he had once neglected. 

As months passed, Anemus transformed into a man not just of charm but of depth and substance. His relationships flourished, grounded in sincerity and mutual respect. The Almighty's lesson had cracked open his heart, allowing compassion to seep in and replace his arrogance with humility.

Then came the moment of triumph. After a year of self-discovery and hard work, Anemus organized a city-wide charity event, bringing together artists, musicians, and volunteers from all walks of life. The event was a vibrant celebration of unity and shared purpose. As he looked out at the thousands of smiling faces, he felt a sense of profound fulfillment wash over him—one that had long eluded him in his quest for success.

In that triumphant moment, Anemus Nikoli embraced the truth of his journey. The challenge had not been to rise to power but to rise to the occasion of being a true steward of love and kindness. The pain of his past no longer chained him; it had forged his spirit anew. And as the evening sky danced with the colors of the setting sun, Anemus stood taller than ever, a testament to the boundless strength that lay within, and the incredible power of transformation.