“Two figures emerge from the darkness of the shadows by the riverbed. They seem to be carrying something heavy. They hop onto a boat and dispose of their burden on reaching the middle of the river. 45 minutes later they reach back home grinning with wry satisfaction. The job was done. ” Castle Combe is […]Read More Almost Gone
Prologue The man lay on the sofa overwrought, heavily breathing. He seemed satisfied with his work. He turned his head to figure out who it was but then another blow on his temple knocked him out cold…The figure then took a blade and cut open his throat to make sure the job was done. The figure […]Read More Retribution
In lieu of the prevalent stigma around such issues. You can access an article I wrote about these issues below – The Hushed Voices of Mental HealthRead More Mental Health
This is the third part of the Paul Okonji series. The first two parts can be accessed below – Memoirs Of Paul Okonji-I Memoirs Of Paul Okonji-II 27th September 1768 It’s with a heavy heart and a troubled mind that I pen down the events that occurred between […]Read More Memoirs Of Paul Okonji-III
This is the second part of the Paul Okonji Series. The first part can be accessed below – Memoirs Of Paul Okonji-I 23rd June 1768 I am sick of working for them now. The torturous work still goes on and the whips hit harder than ever. Food tastes better but just because of the routine. […]Read More Memoirs Of Paul Okonji-II
This is an article I wrote about mental health back in 2016.
I sincerely hope that it reaches out to people who turn a blind eye to mental health issues and to people who need support.
Warm Greetings! As many of you might have noticed, I haven’t been active here for a very long time. I would like to apologise for that. But I assure you all now that I have once decided to write again. As this pandemic has engulfed us all, I urge you to stay safe and healthy! […]Read More Update.
12th May 1768 I sit here in my quarters comprising of a mug, a plate and a pile of dried Zelkova leaves where I am writing this. Which hour of which day it is I am not aware. For starters, my name is Paul Okonji. I was very mercilessly snatched away from my family a […]Read More Memoirs Of Paul Okonji-I
Deep down the Tyrose valley among thickets and shrubs lays an old and battered house that no one speaks about. The air surrounding it is terribly cold and damp. Miles across the house not a scintilla of life can be found; not even rodents or reptiles. The metallic gate is heavy with rust and opens […]Read More The Macabre House
October 1960 It was after midnight that Frank heard the doorbell. He had almost fallen asleep on the couch waiting for his friend when the noise woke him up. Clumsily he got up, adjusted his clothes and went towards the main door (which happened to be jammed as luck would have been).Through awkward gesticulation and […]Read More Annie