Ransom

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WHEN I KIDNAPPED MYSELF, AND send a ransom demand to my scumbag father, I did not expect he’d pay.

But guess he did!

I am now happy in my new home away from home; a high-rise apartment building I bought with the ransom.

Occasionally, I tune in to home TV stations and see my picture on the screens: ‘Melissa Young Aluoch, daughter of the media mogul and entrepreneur, Wilson Aluoch, is still missing despite the twenty million shillings’ ransom being paid …’ says the newscaster.

With an abusive father, in all senses of the word, 20 years, I walked out last month. No one would have guessed, even my oh-so subservient mother, that the decision I had made was a decision too late. She never listened to me anyway.

Now, I am a citizen of another country, I am not gonna say which one for security reasons, with a new life and identity.

They call me Samantha Williams over here.

Imara Angani

The crew room at Laikipia Air Base was a flurry of activity and a cacophony of telephones ringing off the hook. Fighter pilot Major Ahmednasir Ramah sweated copiously inside his flight suit as he waited anxiously beside the telephone, glancing every few seconds at the crew-room clock.

Deep in his bones, he felt that either this mission would pass as a blip in his military career or it would be his last. Ramah held the telephone handset tight, raised it to his ear, and listened.

Sex on the Beach

A month after breaking my heart alongside my virginity, the man responsible for the crime committed the same heinous act with my younger sister. We were living in Mombasa at the time, on a beach house at the very edge of the Indian Ocean overlooking its warm waters.

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