
Cheers to 2025
Every New Year holds promise, as though it is any different from the turn of
When two friends set out for an evening of mad fun, they had no clue how the night would turn. They had no idea it was going to be the longest nights of their lives – one that would change their lives forever.
The two friends would soon learn that their pleasure will be their ultimate weakness and undoing.
The story is purely fiction. All characters are a creation of the author.
5.54am Saturday

Her sobs came in waves, little ones at first, before breaking into screams of agony as she sat sprawled out on the motel lobby floor. Her short dress barely covering her surging breast and thighs as she wailed with reckless abandon. A loose plaster had come off her face and clear mucus ran down her nostrils as she cared less for her appearance.
The motel reception area was illuminated with a soft and welcoming light, as if it were sunshine in gentle pastel hue. But it couldn’t do justice to the image of the young woman, still with the sweetness of girlhood, screaming her lungs out.
It was barely sunup and she had an agitated throng of sympathizers looking on as her scream seeped into every facet of their skin. A good many of the onlookers cladded in their night wears and accompanied with an unholy agglomeration of stale perfumes, dried sweat, body odor and halitosis encircled her.
The crowd? – They were passersby, motel cleaners and staff, guest and their companions, drivers and even stray teenagers. Their looks burning through every inch of “yellow” skin she had on display with pity wondering why such a pretty lady was left in so much pain.
While curiosity got the better of half the crowd, many others were there for the gossip, if anything, to spice up their listless lives. Armed with their mobile phone- a piece of scrap held together by worn-out rubber bands, they turned on their cameras to create a poorly lit recording of the unfolding scenario. The video would offer them something to feast upon during their leisure. They lived for moments like this!
From the crowd came a rising energy to match their growing angst as the girl’s scream told of the anguish and regret within. It was like the “calling” in the scream of a child that awakens the hero to action. Every word she managed to utter stoked the embers of their rage. It really didn’t matter what she complained about, her gory sight told the story they needed to feed others and transfer their anger.
Her dress was covered in conspicuous splatter of blood right from her neckline to her waistline. Her hair disheveled like the aftermath of a vicious and unforgiving tornado, while her face was battered and swollen from what appeared to be multiple blunt impact to her face.
She wore her left eye lid like a prize, it was swollen and disproportionate to the rest of her face. She was an awful sight to behold and a total mess! Only the heartless would not seethe with rage.
No one could imagine that hours earlier she was easily the toast of the party and the cynosure of all eyes. But right there, the crowd took it in and let the rage radiate through their clenched fist.
“Where are they?” someone asked angrily.

***
From a few distance to the motel access gate, Collins could hear the muffled voices, some angry and some placating and he wondered what was happening. He was away from the motel barely an hour earlier and at the time he left, the environs was serene and calm.
He had enough time to change into a clean shirt and a matching blue jeans. He wasn’t going to look what he had been through. His body felt differently from lack of sleep. But he had to tidy the loose end. The night had indeed been a long one and he wondered if it had truly ended?
“What could be amiss?” he wondered
A draft of air hits his face, warm and with a tincture of sweat as he opened the access gate into the motel premises. He took foreboding steps as he approached the motel lobby where the raging noise he heard moments ago was only punctuated by the screams of what could pass as a wailing female.
Collins slipped into the crowd as quickly as he could. He wasn’t going to trade his anonymity for anything. A few tugs here, silent apologies there, he managed to meander through the throng of sympathizers to behold the unmistakable face of Bilkiss. Her black but now rumbled hair hugging her once beautiful face as she wailed and spoke at the same time barely audible enough for anyone to make out a complete sentence.

Collins had never been claustrophobic before, but in that almighty swell of humanity, he felt the panic rise in his chest. A frightened yelp escaped his mouth the same moment she turned to look at him.
As though in slow motion, he watched as she raised her right arm and pointed her index finger directly at him. Scores of angry eyes looked his way in micro-seconds and he knew he was in a lot of trouble.
If they moved he had to also and if his feet failed to keep up he risked being trampled underfoot and beaten to pulp. But there was no chance in hell he could out-run the crowd who were waiting to serve justice to whomever was responsible for the current state of the girl.
Years ago, he had watched a mob action on local television and had learnt that being aggressive would not save his skin. He had to be as meek and decisive as the moment would allow.
“Is that him?” Came another voice in the crowd seeking for confirmation.
Even in the bitter January cold he felt the warmth of all those bodies pressing in and the menacing look on their faces left nothing to imagination. He froze as he suddenly realized that attention had shifted to him. He could smell the blind rage as his feet failed to respond to the primal urgency to flee.
The first slap came from nowhere, it was lightning fast. A momentary seizure followed by a tinge of pain on his left cheek that left him staggering on one leg. The second one could have been a clenched fist as it left his tongue torn from a canine cut. Instinctively he held his head in his hand pleading for mercy. An argument broke out from nowhere into a tornado from the crowd as they were suddenly serious and blood thirsty.
“Wait wait wait…I didn’t do anything wrong” He screamed.
“Let him be. Let him speak” came an unknown voice from the crowd. It could have been anyone but he was grateful for that lifeline.
It was going to be his words against hers and she didn’t look like she cared much. She had stopped crying and dying waves of her prolonged sobs heaved through her chest. He bit down on his lip knowing for sure that this wasn’t going to be fun.
That moment there was hardly a single utterance in the thirty-something strong throng as they waited on his every breath.
He took a cursory glance at the reception. It was nothing like the one he had sauntered into in the middle of the night hours earlier when he managed to convince Bilkiss to rest for a few hours while he went about getting refreshed.
The motel that had once been the finest residence he could find at the time suddenly looked like there was no openness, no space as thick stale air laced with fear and anger hovered around the hanging ceiling lamps.
Whilst the lobby was overcrowded with sympathizers with streaks of sweat dripping from the faces of their faces, there was nothing warm or friendly about the looks they shot him. They wanted blood and he had only a few minutes to save himself.
He wished it was a dream so he could snap out of it.
“I did not abandon her here. I went to get a change of clothes. Her bags and personal effects are in my car parked out here outside the building. It’s the black Honda accord” He spoke as fast as his breath would allow him.
Then he looked down at Bilkiss.
“You are supposed to be taking some rest, why are you causing a lot of commotion this morning?” His voice was firm and accusatory. He seemed to have found a hint of confidence.
“Show us the car” a short man with heavy facial beards bellowed. His face had irritation written all over it.
The crowd allowed Collins to lead the way as they made way so he could pass through the exit door. They had enough time to look him over. His neatly ironed shirt, clean jeans, well-manicured fingers and super clean loafers oozed of sophistication. He left a trail of masculine perfume in his wake as he walked towards his car.
He held his cheek in his palm as the sting from the harassment hurt deeply. That was the third time he was getting his cheeks slapped in the last 4hours. Before then, they hadn’t been slapped in decades.
How fast things changed!
He opened the car door and brought out Bilkiss hand bag, high heeled shoes and the remains of the wig she wore the night before and handed them over to her.
At this time, half the crowd started to make their way out of the motel premises, they assumed it was a case of relationship gone sour or couples bitter fight.
The short man asked Bilkiss if the items she claimed had been stolen from her were the same ones the young man just handed over to her. She checked in the hand bag for her mobile phone, wallet and debit cards, they were all in there. Just as she had left them.
She answered in the affirmative. This time, the remaining onlookers disappeared just as fast as they had turned up. This was bad business for the “gram”
Collins tried to make out a face or two from the throng that had palms so thick that it hurt his cheeks with the thunderous slap. All he saw was men and women of all shapes scurrying away into the morning sunshine.
He looked at Bilkiss, his eyes pouring invectives his mouth wouldn’t dare utter.
“I am sorry Collins, I thought you had left me all to myself”
Collins had a flash recollection of the night before and his disdain for her dissolved in one instant.
“Let’s go to the room, you need to rest”
Please click here to read chapter Two

Every New Year holds promise, as though it is any different from the turn of

I want to tell you something about confidence that most people get spectacularly wrong.
And I mean that without arrogance — because I got it wrong too, for longer than I care to admit. I walked into rooms with my chest out and my chin up and told myself that was confidence. I practiced certain expressions in the mirror before big presentations. I rehearsed answers to imagined tough questions in the shower until the water ran cold.
I looked confident. I performed confidence quite convincingly, if I do say so myself.

There is a conversation you have been postponing.
You know the one. It has been living rent-free in the back of your head for days, possibly weeks. You have rehearsed it in the shower. You have drafted opening lines in your head while stuck on the Third Mainland Bridge. You have imagined seventeen different versions of how it could go, and approximately sixteen of them ended badly.
So you have said nothing. You have smiled when you did not feel like smiling, agreed when you wanted to disagree, and quietly let something important fester because the alternative — the actual conversation — felt like detonating a device in a room you still have to live in.

There is a category of question that polite intellectual company tends to avoid: the kind that, if you pull the thread long enough, begins to unravel not just a specific mystery but the entire fabric of what we think we know about human history. The Pyramids of Giza are that thread. They have been standing in the Egyptian desert for roughly 4,500 years.

Let me take you somewhere. Not to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean — at least, not yet. First, to Lagos. Nigeria. Sometime in the late 1980s. A teenager who should probably have been revising for exams is instead sitting cross-legged on the floor of a library, holding a book that is older than most of the furniture around it, reading about a city beneath the sea.

This is my story of discovering a film that challenged everything I thought I knew about the gift of time, every pulsating detail documented to inspire you to leap beyond your limitations and appreciate the beauty of growing old.
This story explores the paradox of immortality and why a movie from 2015 still resonates so deeply with audiences today.
I hope you find it worth your time.

This is my story, every pulsating detail documented to inspire you to question what you know and leap beyond your limitations.
This story is about the audacity of belief, the power of a well-told lie, and the journey to unlearn the things that poisoned my teenage mind.
I hope you find it worth your time.

There is a category of question that polite intellectual company tends to avoid: the kind that, if you pull the thread long enough, begins to unravel not just a specific mystery but the entire fabric of what we think we know about human history. The Pyramids of Giza are that thread. They have been standing in the Egyptian desert for roughly 4,500 years.

There is a peculiar kind of madness that does not arrive with hallucinations or trembling hands. It arrives quietly. At two in the morning. In a small desert town in New Mexico. It sounds like an idling diesel engine somewhere in the distance — except there is no engine. It sounds like a bass note being held by an invisible orchestra — except there is no orchestra.

Let me confess something. Long before LinkedIn articles, podcasts, and leadership keynotes became my world, I was a teenager sneaking to the library

In an era that increasingly demands hyper-specialization, Akin Akingbogun stands out as a refreshing anomaly. He is a man who refuses to be confined to a single box.

There is a particular kind of silence that falls on a man when the phone stops ringing, the proposals go unanswered, and the diary that once groaned under the weight of appointments sits quietly — almost mockingly — open. If you have ever been there, you know it.

Let me tell you something uncomfortable: the most generous person you know — the one who volunteers every weekend, donates quietly, never asks for anything in return — is probably getting something out of it. Not money. Maybe not even recognition. But something.

Adaeze had been awake since 4 a.m.
Not because she was anxious — though she was — but because this trip felt different. After eighteen months of follow-ups, phone calls, and PowerPoint presentations polished to a mirror shine, the deal was finally ready to close. An investor meeting in Abuja. A partnership that would change the trajectory of her small but gutsy consulting firm. She had triple-checked her flight, her documents, her outfit. She had prayed. She was ready.
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7 thoughts on “Blood in the Water – Chapter 1”
…..and another one! We are ready for it. I smell mischief all over bilkiss but who knows what Collins must have done?
Collins cheeks oo. Lmao. Bilikis is such a drama Queen.
The Duke is back again with another thrilling Series. Let me go and get my pop corn ready.
Akin omo Akin,the first few lines got me sitting upright…thenI couldn’t hide my affirmation in reality of how people react to ugly scenes when I found this…. “The video would offer them something to feast upon during their leisure. They lived for moments like this!”…and the last line was a kicker …I scattered in laughter lol
It’s the life we live in now. Everything incident is record or photo worthy
The writing is so graphic that I formed the images in my head. On to chapter 2
Awwwww. Glad you could see it too bro
I hope the slaps were worth it