The sun was slowly creeping in, and the morning star shone brightly on the entire eastern horizon. The birds harmoniously recited their usual morning glory. The maker had blessed the day as the petals were conspicuously seen from afar.
Indeed, the day was bright and full of signs of profound peace. The river flowed swiftly across the plains, its water hitting the banks. The river's splash signified that the dry season was still far. The farmer with a machete and a hoe was ready for the routine.
The destiny of Jez was traced back to these moments when his life turned from real to fantasy. The day seemed vivid to his now old, forgetful mind as he reminisced about the flaws that brought him to the prison-like vicinity.
Deep in the village, the ramshackle huts stretched across a far, wide land. The evergreen rapport brightened the scene. Jez lived in this village, Weko Village, as the villagers called it.
Their house was a prehistoric site, as it was different from the mud houses around. His father had found a fortune before the villagers opened their eyes.
The day was calm; Jez was a secondary school student. When all of it started, he was provided with everything; his pride controlled his judgement on all that came his way. Jez stretched out of bed, yawned, and walked to the window and drew the curtains.
The golden rays of the sun shone brightly into his room. The sky was cloudy, full of hope and peace for the rest of the day. The birds never missed the routine but harmonized the day more.
They flew from one branch to another as if their life was all figured out. The night's dusk was gone; the day's light was more evident that day.
Jez knew one thing:":freedom " from the dictatorial folks that surrounded him and gave him endless lectures. Little did he even know the awaiting fate of what sounded good in his eyes, but absurd to the now-called dictators........ next on my next article