My 14th Day In Prison

Article by: (Ken & Speranza)

jail

I reminisce the days when I arrived home in the evening and hugged my beautiful wife. The days when I opened my car’s front door and my kids rushed to hug me calling me ‘daddy’ as they ransacked through the shopping paper bags in a bid to get what dad had brought for them. How we watched TV together as a family as we laughed our ribs out in the living room. The great moments when we ate together as a family at the dining table at the Centre of our home are still fresh on my mind. I miss the many times when I slept on the same matrimonial bed with my wife. We occasionally gazed at each other and had some ‘extravaganza’ episode before we slept in a very cordial pose. In the morning, I would take both my wife and my kids. I would drop my kids to school as I drove my wife to work at a certain corporate company.

 

All that familial happiness ended in a single day when my ‘40’ days were over. It happened in a flash such that upto now, I cannot explain it.

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the ‘RICH MAID’ ABROAD

Story By: {Ken & Speranza}

Many have gone but few make it back successful…
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Welcome to the extra-regurgitated story that falls on deaf ears of many who have the insatiable taste for unseen rewards in abroad. These ‘Thomases’ only believe when they go there and are deported back with ‘painful scars that sometimes never heal’.

Wait, the heading itself is ironical and full of sarcasm if stated. That is what those planning on taking a flight there after paying a hefty fee for their death should come into terms with. They are lured by promises of posh jobs with big salaries.

a RHAPSODY OF BEHAVIORAL CHANGE

How many women have come back and explained exclusively the horrors and atrocities that they met there? How many have been flown back to our country as rotting corpses? How many go there and they disappear under mysterious circumstances? Why do we still want to go there to look for jobs? Meager jobs that lead to many of our young girls and women being overused in useless ‘maid’ jobs under very excruciating conditions. When asked, they say that some of the ladies they know have made it there and are getting paid ‘good money’. Some get good employers while some; in fact get employers who are equivalent to or rougher than ‘beasts’.

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The Observer: YOUTH – It’s Our Time

Article Written By: [Ken & Speranza]

The persona in the story is an Intellect Observer.;
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It was on a Friday afternoon just after I had been interviewed at a certain prestigious corporate company. The only thing I had in my palm was my mobile phone and some bit of nervousness consuming each thought I had about the outcome of the interview. I had adorned that black suit that I usually reserved for such important days and those pitch black shoes that complemented my outlook as I walked majestically across the town.

The scorching sun and the chilly psychic wind were inflicting their arrogance on me as I paved my way to the ‘matatu’ stage whereby I could board a vehicle that would ferry me to my vicinity. The vendors were busy minding their businesses inside the flocked town. In my escapades, I actually groped under a sweaty woman’s armpit as she shouted explosively in a bid to sell her merchandise.

I approached the matatu station and met a black graffiti matatu that was almost full. I boarded it and walked straight to the back left seat [let me call it a bench; it was not worth the name seat] at the window. I always loved observing as I travelled. I can say that being an observer has made me discover many things in this young world. Moreover, I understand undeniably that the sweetness of traveling is observing. Just when I was approaching the seat, I noticed it had a hole at the center of the worn out cushions. I could not settle myself proportionately. I had to seat at a certain angle making sure not to injure my sciatic nerve in my less adorable gluteal tissue.  Inside the matatu were a whole lot of alarming warning stickers and images of those musicians we here on radios. The tout hang around shouting in tantrums as he hang around like an empty bottle of liquor. The engine started and for whatever reason, I had to stick to my seat until I arrived at my destination.

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THE UNFINISHED HOUSE 2

Story By: {Ken N Speranza}

||| This is part two of the story |||

(Check out part one here > [ the Unfinished House 1])

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She twisted on her bed smiling as she gazed at the ceiling. She had made the first achievement of what her purpose was that day. She felt she had succeeded.  His smile, physique was still fresh on her mind. She again remembered his father’s advice to him and noted that the man was true to his words and that he kept promises. This increased the intensity of attraction towards him. She coiled herself inside the blankets and slept.

She knew that the next meeting on Thursday would be more fantastic than this.

#
Wednesday
#
Abby got on her bicycle and rode to town for shopping. She was fond of cycling all the time. she loved it.  While she was going around the town, she came across many people going around their businesses. She was very observative and there is something that caught her eye that reminded her of the guy she had met at the plantation – Cain. She had spotted a couple seated at a restaurant laughing and smiling at each other in a lovely way. This moved her. She halted her bicycle and spent a little bit of her time gazing at them. Her face changed. It reflected the face of a cute little girl who was yearning for something.   Her heart beat much fast. The grip on her bicycle hand bars strengthened. Her teeth clenched together. The adhesive force between the bicycle saddle and her body grew tight. She stood there for a while as she stared straight at the couple who were busy enjoying while having the short meals. she then decided to keep on track. She cycled back home.
#
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the Inferno: How we torched our school

Our school, under the new management of a principal who did not know how we had been governed all through had become a hell of a place. He introduced an entire set or rules that affected us adversely in his benefits. Obedient and smart boys go to boarding high school and return home as redundant, hard headed and stiff like a rock. They are changed boys and in most cases, to the worst. High school is the one of the places that could make a young man a bad man for the rest of their lives.

#school girl smoking and drinking
It came a time when one student whistled at a lady teacher who had recently been employed inside the school.s She was strikingly beautiful and a spectacle to all the boys in the school.

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HANNAH N’ OLIVER 3

Written by : KeN And Speranza

[ Part One ]

[ Part Two ]


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HANNAH AND OLIVER: [PART THREE]

They approached an old looking hall full of young looking rugged women. She was dropped inside the hall where she lay helpless like a strand of spaghetti draped over furniture. She lay unconscious on the floor. The women in the place looked weak and feeble.  Their faces had huge pregnant stories to tell. Where was this place? She automatically knew that something was not right.  The two men who had brought her walked towards the door and locked it from the outside.

 

She slowly raised her head and gazed at the surroundings around her. She was appalled. A horde of young ladies lay helpless on the floor of the hall. They seemed abused, intoxicated and dehydrated.  As she was trying to  get herself  up, she felt something pressing hard on her cleavage area. She slowly inserted her left hand inside her dress and unmasked a tag that had been permanently inscribed around her neck. It was written no. 1061. She gazed at it again. She noted that all the ladies  inside the hall had the same tag but a different number. She wondered what it meant.


The hall was dark. It was during the night. Her watch read 1am. She sat at the corner of the hall wondering  about her fate.  She hunched up her legs until the knees touched her chest. She held herself and started staring at the young girls. She wondered why they looked so weak and feeble. She wondered what they were being subjected to. Some of the ladies were ‘au natural’ while some had torn clothes that exposed their unwashed bodies. She noted that some of them had fresh cuts and scars on their faces and thighs. Hannah’s heart pounded hard as she  realized that this was not a bed of roses. The condition that the ladies were in, explained it all.

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