Born in a strange land during a protracted civil war, Dennis grew up to become one of the most influential persons within his adopted province. A philanthropist and renouned engineer, his works span across many enclaves of the country.
One day, Dennis decided to visit the Zannir kingdom, the birthplace of his parents so as to acclamatise himself with the people thereat. He departed with one of his sons, his favourite too. The wife and his three other children were at the terminal to bid them farewell with full expectations of the tales he will tell them upon his return to Kwafar Republic...his adopted country.
Dennis touched down at the international airport of Zannir kingdom. He had arranged for his aged parents to come around and receive him, since this was literarily the first time he will be visiting them.
A uniformed man appeared and called out his name, "excuse me sir, please are you Mr. Dennis?" Dennis wasted no time to acknowledge that he is the person as he casually answered "yes sir". "Aha", now follow me sir", the uniformed man continued, ushering him into a room that appears to be a waiting room. From there Dennis and the son was moved into another room which appears to be more secured than the first. Dennis, like an obedient child remained silent and was just following and watching the man.
He was asked to sit down and the officer left. Dennis was kept there for about twenty minutes without anybody attending to him or even telling him why he was kept there in the room. After a while, a well dressed middle aged man walked into the room with some folders in his hands. He didn't even bother to greet or exchange some pleasantries with Dennis and went straight to confirm the identify osf the 'detainee'. "Are you Dennis Praet"? He asked intently. "Yes sir, and this is Okie, my son. Good evening sir ". The man ignored his greetings and continued, this time in a somewhat hash tone: "So you think you can sneak into this country just like that? eeh?"
Dennis' ante was raised and he became surprised. "I don't know what you are saying sir. There should be a mix-up somewhere sir. I am Dennis Praet sir. I am not an immigrant. Please check your records very well sir". The man looked at him again then reached out for his cell phone and made some brisk calls. He kept looking at Dennis with an anger well written over his face.
In a space of time some plain clothed men numbering about three stormed the room and whisked Dennis and the son away....
An entry into @mariannewest everyday freewrite