- This topic has 19 replies, 1 voice, and was last updated 1 month, 1 week ago by
.
- Posts
Schoolgirl’s Secret
Epilogue – Her Turn to Judge
Ten years later.
The courtroom was silent—except for the steady scribbling of pens and the clicking of a judge’s gavel.
Brenda Namulondo stood tall at the front of the court, dressed in a sharp black suit, her Advocate’s robe draped over her shoulders. Her voice echoed with poise and authority.
“Your Honor, while my client made a poor decision, what we are arguing today is that poverty should not be a life sentence. What she needs is not prison—but opportunity.”
The judge nodded slowly, considering.
Brenda stepped back, heart steady, mind focused.
She had come a long way from the debate stage.
A longer way from the bathroom floor holding a pregnancy test.
And even further from the schoolgirl with a secret she thought would destroy her.
Now, her voice carried weight in courtrooms. Her name appeared in legal journals. And outside her professional life, she led a mentorship program called “Girls Like Me”—where teenage mothers were given a second chance at education, dignity, and self-worth.Later that afternoon, Brenda stood before a packed auditorium at Victoria Hill High.
She had been invited as Guest Speaker for the annual Girls’ Leadership Conference.
Mercy, now a teacher at the school, smiled proudly from the audience.
And in the front row, a familiar face sat quietly—Asher, now nine years old, wearing a little tie, legs swinging beneath his chair.
Brenda took the stage and adjusted the microphone.
She looked out over the sea of young faces—bright, eager, uncertain—and began:
“There was a time I thought one mistake had ended everything. But life is not a single moment. It is many chapters, and we choose how to write the next.”
“I was once a girl with a secret. Today, I am a woman with a story.”
Applause thundered through the hall.Backstage, Asher ran into her arms.
“Mummy, can I speak in the microphone next time?”
Brenda laughed. “Maybe one day.”
He grinned. “I want to be like you.”
Brenda knelt, holding his shoulders gently.
“Don’t be like me, Asher,” she said softly. “Be better.”And as the sun set on Victoria Hill, one thing was certain:
Brenda’s secret no longer owned her.
Her story did.
And she would keep telling it—for every girl who still thought silence was her only option.Enjoying every episode 😊
A million thanks! Hearing that you’re enjoying each episode makes all the effort worth it! Really appreciate your support
When the Guns Went Silent
Chapter One – The Red Soil of Home
The sun rose slow and golden over the grass-thatched huts, touching the red earth until it glowed. Smoke curled lazily from cooking fires, carrying the smell of millet porridge and roasted groundnuts. Roosters crowed, goats bleated, and the village awoke to another ordinary day.
Jacob Akello stood at the edge of the stream with his eldest son, Akena. The boy’s toes gripped the damp mud as he leaned forward, fishing spear trembling in his hand. Jacob placed a steady palm on his son’s shoulder.
“Patience, my boy,” he murmured, eyes on the rippling water. “The river always rewards the one who waits.”
Akena held his breath, watching for movement. For a heartbeat the world was silent but for the humming of insects. Then—a silver flash beneath the water. He lunged, thrusting the spear downward. A splash followed, water droplets flying. He lifted the spear, a small tilapia writhing at its tip.
His father’s laughter rang out, rich and proud. “Eh, you are learning fast. Soon you will feed the whole family.”
Back at the homestead, Sarah crouched on a low stool, her nimble fingers weaving neat braids into Nyara’s hair. The little girl winced as her mother tugged, but Sarah only chuckled.
“Beauty must feel pain, my daughter. Even queens sit still for their braids.”
Nyara rolled her eyes but sat obediently, twisting blades of dry grass in her lap. Nearby, little Timo chased a stubborn goat, his thin legs kicking up red dust. The goat darted left, then right, bleating with annoyance as the boy squealed with laughter.
Sarah paused to watch him, her lips curving into a tired but gentle smile. In moments like these, when the world felt no bigger than their hut, their field, and the stream, she could almost believe nothing outside would ever touch them.
By midday, the family gathered under the shade of the mango tree. Akena cleaned his fish with a sharp knife, while Nyara hummed softly, practicing a school song. Jacob rested with Timo sprawled across his lap, the boy’s head heavy against his chest.
It was an ordinary day in an ordinary village. And yet, in Sarah’s heart, there was a quiet prayer—a mother’s fragile wish that life might always remain this simple, this safe.
