Thriller Suspense Sad

As she sat in that too cozy black armchair in the agent’s office, she allowed her mind to wonder outside the room—Is this truly where those like me end up?

There was a long queue of desperados (desperate), just like her, or even better, waiting to meet the agent. Some were excited, others had plastered smiles on their faces and others just stared at their feet until they were called in. She had been standing in the queue since seven in the morning, when she was finally called in at noon.

Outside the office, in place of chairs there were metallic rods attached to the wall at elbow height. The office itself was posh; the walls hung with old tapestries and were made with the linenfold style in mind. At the reception area there was a water dispenser with small plastic cups and next to it a plastic chair for the person going in next to relax on.

The receptionist/secretary had a non-desirable beauty, though her makeup was on point. Her eyebrows and lashes were neatly done and the subtle mascara extension detail made her eyes smaller.

Her lips were sparkling red and her lace front human hair wig was fairly well installed, serving its purpose – hiding her protruding forehead that she was obviously embarrassed about. 

Lucky abused this golden opportunity and she drank the rich man’s clean water to her satisfaction. By time it was her turn, she needed to pee. However, she wouldn’t let this opportunity to meet the agent pass her by.

The agent assessed her papers and then her physique and passed her some papers.

“Sign those…”

Being wise as she thought, she went through the documents first, then pen in hand and in a writing posture, she asked, “Are you sure this is what I will get?”

“Absolutely!” “If you’ll have any troubles, call that number ending with 000 and I will be at your service”, He said in an extremely friendly tone.

Lucky gently tapped her head twice with the pen in her hand, and then as if convinced, she put her signature on the documents.

“See you on Monday!” he said with a deceitful smile.

Lucky exhaled deep heavy breaths, stood and left the office.

“Next person go in…” the secretary said barely lifting her eyes from her monitor.

The first thing she did when she was home, she rushed to her lavatory -- she had had an uncomfortable journey back home. She then lay on her bed face up and thought of the deal she had made with the devil. Legend has it that joblessness equals slavery.

But what choice did she have? She had searched for jobs across the nation and received nothing but a bunch of “We’ll be in touch”. She had strived to keep the light of hope alive in her heart, but after months of waiting, she decided to put out the light. She decided to take this as what it was; just an opportunity like any other.

“They expect you to have at least three years of experience. Ha! (sarcastic) How then will we graduates get a job?”

“How can one volunteer for three years? What will they eat? How will they pay their rent? Is this how worthless education is nowadays?”

‘Education, education. Education is a key, a key to many things. If you want to be a doctor you must be educated….’

Maybe we should all be doctors.

Lucky had once started working as a volunteer but it was not long before she was fed up. Being that she did it only to meet the 3-year job qualification and not for any other reason, she pushed herself to complete the first month and she was out.

It was because of this exponentially growing frustration, that she decided she would take any job that came her way. Once as she was online doing her routine patrol of the job advertising website, she saw an opportunity.

It was at the top center of the page, written in eye-catchy colors and fonts and used enticing words—NO EXPERIENCE NEEDED. The ad was the answer to her pathetic condition. It seemed a lucrative opportunity.

She met with him frequently and her passport was made; then her visa was ready; and finally, it was time to go. She couldn’t tell her kin; without a doubt they would discourage her. First time on a plane and it didn’t feel exciting. The future was beyond her ken, and she hates surprises.


On arrival, it was dark with numerous street lights fighting away the darkness, and just like any other city, things went on as if it was daytime: shops and restaurants were still open. The streets were filled with people roaming around aimlessly from one corner to another.

The five were stuffed into the trunk of a van as if potato sacks, and she didn't even get the chance to enjoy the nightlife. Driven clumsily to some room where the night would be spent – others were also brought in that room later on.

Passports and visas snatched from them as if slaves with zero travel rights. She was too tired to complain, that strong hearted woman.

Every morning she would recall and pen down her dreams saying, “One day…”

This morning she didn’t. She woke up, at 6 on the dot as usual, and squealed, chaotically waking up the others. As they confusedly raised their heads to determine the matter, she was somewhat relieved as she initially thought she was surrounded by dead bodies – maybe that was what she had dreamt.

In a scared wobbly voice, “Where r we…. (Deep breaths)”. When she calmed down, she was more coherent. She was brought up to speed by a familiar face; it was she who sat next to her on the plane.

Before she could even digest that info, the door flung open and a man with a turban on his head and dressed in a white kanzu stood in the opening with 2 other men behind him.

Her eyes dilated. He surveyed the room then lifted his hands just high enough to clearly indicate that he was pointing at her. Her lips fell and her eyes popped out almost of their sockets. He then turns on his left and left.

The two men behind him matched forward. Holding her from both sides, dragged her out of the room.

Downstairs, she met the man who had pointed at her earlier. He was speaking with another man in a language that wasn’t English or Swahili.

“You work for me now, okay. Good work you do. Contract 6 months. Zawja like your work, me extend contract. Okay with you?” And before she could respond, he said to the man he was talking to initially, “shukrana wadaeana” and the four of them went to the Ferrari parked just next to the building.

She got a glimpse of the foreign land and, succinctly, it was advanced. Almost all the buildings were of glass and were showing pictures of advertisement on television-like features. The roads were smooth as if recently constructed.

It was as if everyone had cars, she saw no matatus and very few taxis and those who were walking were going into the shops.

Lucky was amazed by this foreign land. Even when the car came to a halt, it was peaceful; unlike the matatus back home which were driven recklessly.

Through their journey, she didn’t witness any accidents occurring – if she were home, she would already be disgusted by the bloody bodies she would have seen.

After alighting from the car, a woman covered everywhere except for her eyes came straight to where she was. “Come I show you where you sleep, you start work now.” She follow her, oops sorry – she followed her without question.

Work she worked, after all, she was there for that. The difference between her and a donkey was no longer visible – even the helps in her country didn’t do this much work, maybe because in her country there were no houses as large. She felt as if a household drudge.

She was being paid monthly yes, but the workload was heavy. She would wake up at 5 and begin cleaning the massive home from top to bottom. Grabbing her ladder, she would start from the living room. The ladder was used outside when she would be washing the roof.

At times in a day, she would clean the home twice or thrice.

They gave her food, but only after the king and queen and their offspring had eaten. The family lived with their families -- picturesque the laundry.

If the young kings and queens decided to steal from their parents, she would receive retribution for trumped up allegations. This included being whipped by the men of the family, spending nights in the prison of the house and food withheld for a week.

Every sickness of hers was considered curable with a tablet of Panadol and a glass of water. She gravely missed home and she occasionally called her parents, who were surprised by the foreign number but she always gave an excuse.

Her parents once went to her apartment at home and missed her. In the evening after work, she saw their missed calls and called back only to lie to them that she had travelled to another city because of work.

Her parents knew that she was working as a secretary in some law firm in the capital, and that she often had work-related trips. She would also send them money every end month.

What kept her going was that her six-month sentence would be over soon and she would be free.

And here it was. The day finally came for her to face the free world again. That day she woke up even earlier, did her house chores, packed her bags and was ready to leave. The boss and lady called her to the second living room just a few steps from the first. This day they even saw her snow-white teeth.

“Me like your work, she also like your work.”

“Hmmm, Thank you.”

“Welcome, so we extend your contract. Me already talk to agent, he accept. Congratulations”, he rapped.

“Ati! (What)” Was this supposed to be good news?

“Me don’t want to continue! Me done done! Me want to go home! Me sifanyi hii kazi tena! (I’m not doing this work again)”

“I have already paid agent for you. Money not returned”

She could just faint. But then she saw that the gate was open and the gateman was busy on his phone. She burst into a ran out of the living room, out of the house and out of the compound. She ran and didn’t look behind. She fell, got up and continued as if nothing had happened.

But then she stopped. Her visa and passport were taken. Her phone was in her bag and she didn’t have time to take it. She didn’t speak their language. Where would she go?

Will my fate follow the legend? She thought.

She remembered the other girls she came with; they were also learned. And the ones she left in the room that day…

She felt trapped; trapped as a slave who had been paid for.

She knelt at the side of the road, big lumps of tears rolling down her cheeks, and she put her hands together and looked at the sky, not minding the ugly stares being thrown at her.

He was the only one who could help her. 

June 13, 2021 20:08

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Weldon Knight
02:34 Jun 24, 2021

Good scene establishment, story flow and proofreading. Probably just me, but I feel the story would have greater impact on the reader if Lucky was presented in first person POV. I felt detached from Lucky, almost as if she was an inanimate object and not a person. I enjoyed reading, STUCK.


Poweful Music
06:05 Jun 24, 2021

Hey Weldon, Thanks for the feedback. Will implement the corrections in the coming submissions.


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