From Home To Rendezvous

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‘From Home To Rendezvous’ is now ‘An Escape To Rendezvous

Thanks to everyone who read my first novelette, From Home to Rendezvous, on this blog.  Your comments and feedback gave me so much joy.  Let me take you back a little to the story behind the story. What if the person who saves you is also ruining your life? This idea was the little seed that came to my mind when I began to scribble on many A4 papers around December last year. My character emerged as a teenager, and she is girl. I thought I would mess it up as a male writer, but somehow, the story took a direction of its own. The main character surprised me, and it became an interesting story. I shared it with the readers of Moskedapages a couple of months ago, and the comments and feedback were kind. I still go back to feed my heart with some of them when I’m working…

From Home To Rendezvous #10

The next meeting between Martha and Mrs Ajasin was for mourning and celebration. Martha had travelled back to Abeokuta after the whole investigation was completed, carrying the fear of being accused like a heavy burden over her chest, but as soon as Mrs Ajasin saw her she didn’t pick up pebbles and throw it at Martha, she didn’t move back and scream and ran into the house, she didn’t frown and moved past her. She did something different than the cruel things Martha had imagined. She extended her hands and came for a hug, celebrating their reunion properly. It was a reunion and it was mourning a family that was now incomplete, a family of just the females. For Martha, she was crying to say she was sorry for what Mrs Ajasin was facing and would face as a woman who was the only head of the family after losing…

From Home To Rendezvous #9

November 2013 (the present moment) Since the beginning of man has freedom been appreciated, an abstract object that might be paid to get or paid not to get depending on what situation one finds herself. A lady in police custody would gladly pay to get her freedom if she could afford it. Another person surviving to breathe would pay to be admitted on a sickbed, his freedom taken away and tied with a drip hung for him to look up to. But whatever the case of each individual, freedom was a thing of value and each was purchasing freedom from one thing to lose it to another. Martha could argue which of the two sides of freedom was good and which wasn’t. She knew there’s always a clause. Once a person bought freedom from the police custody, he got back to her life – of drinking, partying, misery, responsibilities. The…

From Home To Rendezvous #8

They found a place to sit in a restaurant nearby and Ayo’s first statement sent a cold shiver over Martha. ‘Mum would be happy to see you?’ It was like waking up to see a ghost and Martha’s smile faded. She wasn’t going back home soon, she thought, not now. They sat and after some minutes of staring and smiling, he asked, ‘why did you leave in the first place?’ Your dad was a nuisance. He forced me to have sex with him and he would have used me for as long as he wished. She didn’t say that. She had planned her answer to this kind of questions. She had planned where she would tell the truth. Where? Not in a restaurant and with only Ayo as the audience. And now wasn’t the appropriate time. She was still entangled with a job she wasn’t proud about. ‘I don’t need…

From Home To Rendezvous #7

That night, Martha did not sleep at home. She had some money to lodge in a hotel for two nights and she did. Uchenna would come looking for her at her place and seeing his face could make her die of something she did not know yet – hatred, disappointment, anger, a dose of love, disappointment or all of the above. Two days are enough to get over him in solitude. She locked the door and gulped alcohol like a horse. It burned and she winched, feeling the annoyance in her head replaced by hotness. She crawled like a cat on the cold floor and waited for sleep like a widow waiting for her deceased husband, her vision blurred, her body cold, but she wouldn’t stand from the floor or wore something better than the gown she wore to his place. She laid on her side, her head over her…

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