SOAP OPERA – Chapter 6: The First Elimination
The morning air at Riverside University was thick with anxiety. For weeks, students had poured blood, sweat, and sleepless nights into their drafts. But today, the competition turned deadly serious—the first elimination. The announcement had spread like wildfire: some contestants would leave, some would move closer to glory. The whispers in every corridor were louder, sharper, more dangerous.
Johnson Adeyemi walked across the campus with a sense of weight pressing on his shoulders. Every step echoed his nerves. He clutched his notebook like armor, aware that a single misstep, a single poorly written line, could mean elimination.
Outside the Literature Theatre, students had gathered in a tense crowd. Eyes flicked nervously between one another, friendships strained under suspicion. Jola paced, biting her nails. Timileyin muttered curses under her breath. Praise and Promise clung to each other, whispering strategies. Chidi had his hands pressed to his temples, muttering, "This is it… it's do or die."
Raphael stood at the front of the line, calm and confident, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of tension. He scanned the crowd, noting the energy of every competitor, the fear and desperation lurking behind practiced smiles. Even he felt the pressure of the first elimination—more than he had anticipated.
The theatre doors opened, and Professor Nwagu stepped onto the stage, clipboard in hand. Silence fell like a heavy curtain. Every student held their breath.
"Good morning, writers," he began, his voice measured, commanding. "Today marks the first elimination round of the SOAP OPERA Competition. Your first drafts have been reviewed by the judging panel. Some of you will continue to the next round. Some… will be sent home."
The words hit like a hammer. Gasps, whispers, and nervous shuffling filled the room. Eyes widened. Friends glanced at one another. Alliances wavered. Trust vanished.
Professor Nwagu continued, "This round was not easy. The judges have evaluated creativity, originality, and execution. You will hear your names, and if your name is not called, you are eliminated."
One by one, names were called. Relief and heartbreak collided in waves. Students who had seemed confident moments ago now trembled. Some wept quietly. Others froze in shock.
Johnson's heart raced. He heard names he recognized—friends, rivals, even competitors he had underestimated. Each name not called made the tension spike higher.
Then came the shock.
Tania's name was called. Applause broke out, but Johnson noticed something in her expression—a flicker of worry. Even she wasn't untouchable.
The crowd held its breath as the final few names were announced. One name that had sent ripples of surprise through the theatre: a student thought to be untouchable, eliminated. Panic spread like wildfire. Suddenly, everyone realized—no one was safe.
Johnson's name remained uncalled. Relief surged, but it was tempered by dread. He had survived, but only barely. Every glance, every whisper, every shadow hinted that the war was far from over.
Outside the theatre, students spilled into the courtyard, murmuring about the shock eliminations. Friendships strained, rivalries deepened, and whispers of sabotage began to surface. Jola and Timileyin glared at each other; Praise whispered accusations at Promise; even Raphael's calm exterior was pierced by tension.
Johnson walked quietly through the chaos, notebook clutched tightly. He had survived the first elimination—but at what cost? The competition was no longer just about talent. It was about strategy, alliances, and cunning. The battlefield had grown sharper, the stakes higher, and the shadows of rivalry longer.
In a quiet corner, Johnson whispered to himself, "This is only the beginning… and I will not be the first to fall."
The first elimination had passed—but the war of words had become a war for survival.