Journals of a Plague 2

14 Milford CloseBelvedereHarare, Zimbabwe Wednesday 5 February, 2020 It has been over a month since my last entry. I felt I said all that needed to be said, this journal thing felt like a tedious task as opposed to the therapeutic effects. I know I am not making sense, but venting on a blank page... Continue Reading →

Journals of a Plague

14 Milford CloseBelvedereHarare, Zimbabwe Thursday 3 January, 2020 • First Entry My therapist proposed that I start writing in a journal about my thoughts and feelings. Here we are. This is awkward to say the very least, as I have never made an attempt to relay myself through writing. I don’t know where to begin.... Continue Reading →

The Dark Mistress (Finale)

The cramps began to topple each other and each spasm more intense than the last. Lying on her side, Melissa squeezed the steel lamp-stand and until her knuckles were white. Her face contorted in a grotesque expression of pain, a blood-curdling scream escaped from her throat. The baby wriggled in the birth canal unaware of... Continue Reading →

The Dark Mistress 7

Nerudo stuck in a purgatory of perpetual agony watched Sasha wear him like a puppet. He was in a never-ending loop of sleep paralysis, with no control of his body or actions. He screamed in his mind shocked by the words that came out of his mouth designed by his ventriloquist, Sasha. He really never... Continue Reading →

The Dark Mistress 6

Tererai did not sleep all night as she prayed fervently for her daughter. The nightmare of Melissa being stabbed to death rattled her enough to crank up her hypertension. A horrible deja vu, she closed her eyes and whispered, "Oh Edmund my son, I will do it right this time." At 4:15 am she decided... Continue Reading →

The Dark Mistress 5

Amos and FJ lounged at their usual nook of the bar. "That Sasha girl got our boy wrapped around her little finger, where is he?" Amos inquired with a hint of annoyance. "She has him acting out of character, I don't even know him anymore" FJ spoke with a sneer. "He hardly comes to work... Continue Reading →

The Dark Mistress 4

Melissa stormed into NMFJ premises seething with anger, she had no time to greet Nerudo's secretary, a stout lady in her 50s. It was her idea to get an older woman as his secretary. She burst into Nerudo's office and there he was, sprawled on a luxurious Courtney couch watching the 160inch flat screen on... Continue Reading →

The Dark Mistress 3

Farai Jongwe, commonly know as FJ by friends and family was a dashing and adventurous 39 year old with a casanova complex. Never been married, 7 baby mamas and 9 kids. An expert in the art of seducing women into his bed. A nyphomaniac with an excessive and uncontrollable sexual desire for women. He met... Continue Reading →

The Dark Mistress 2

Sasha bit her lower lip and winced in pain. Sekuru Gutu sunk the razor blade on the nape of her head, making two parallel incisions with the steady hands of a surgeon. His assistant, a young cross-eyed lanky boy with snake skin around his neck handed sekuru a small bottle of ointment. He smeared it... Continue Reading →

The Dark Mistress 1

Nerudo rubbed his temples slowly losing his patience. " So you just used me innit?" Sasha hissed while drumming her fingers on the dashboard of Nerudo's Ford Ranger. "Babe, I need you to listen. My wife found out about us and all I am asking for, is to lay low until things cool down". This... Continue Reading →

I Think My House Is Haunted

I have watched an insane amount of horror movies in my life to nurture a mild phobia of encountering paranormal manifestions. So, we moved into a new house and my paranoia was buzzing. A cute Scandinavian style cottage hidden in a thicket of trees was going to be our home. I loved it but the... Continue Reading →

Modern Lobola Aethesticism

The sun emerged from the jagged hill tops, washing the acreage of pasture land with a golden fluorescence. Topless maidens make a beeline following a path to a cluster of mud huts, while balancing clay pots of water on their heads with graceful equipoise. Their waists sway in balletic rythm and fluid elegance. Arriving at... Continue Reading →

Rogue On 2020

Hey you, it is I, Makaitah Rogue your favorite blogger here to fill your meagre purses with the usual sarcastic impudence and literary prowess. I know you missed me but I saw it fit to take a break in the month of December 2019, as I indulged in regrettable profligacy and wasteful extravagance. I thereby... Continue Reading →

Tawanda Chirewa Debut to Professional Football

Tawanda Chirewa is a 16-year old Zimbabwean midfielder, based in East England, Essex. A talented young man who reiterates that when passion precedence talent coupled with a display of impeccable work ethic, a legend is made. Something about his gait that defines the demeanor of a superstar. His play linked with great pace and intelligence... Continue Reading →

A Clap Back at Dr. Guramatunhu

I like minding my business, it is a mantra that unclogs the mind, even the smallest and most dissimulated thought that does not concern me: Is aggressively ignored. (something about resisting the devil and fleeing) A pilgrimage worthy of an absolute sound mind that churns efficacious thoughts. So,  Monday morning around 3am, I set to travel... Continue Reading →

Old School Music Friday!!!

Okay, I don't do this every Friday, but I have a vibe today and it's old school hip-hop and R&B vibe. See, I am listening to this playlist that takes me way back and I am having such a fun nostalgic day. I thought what the hell lemme spread the happiness mojo. Anyone who knows... Continue Reading →

The Culture of Whoredom Re-Up: PODCAST

So, my podcast is back and thriving! If you were not in the know, yours truly has a podcast, The Culture of Whoredom: launched in August this year. Upon realization that the episodes were piss poor and subpar, I deactivated the whole thing. I don’t do mediocre, period. My ears bled by just listening to... Continue Reading →

A Call On Death – By uBu

She felt lost and alone, lying in her bed facing the ceiling with no zeal. She didn't want to move, she didn't want to pick up her phone to respond to messages, she didn't even like the sound of her voice in her head. She yearned for the peace that came with death, at least... Continue Reading →

Proudly powered by WordPress | Theme: Baskerville 2 by Anders Noren.

Up ↑