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Chapter 1
She thought that if she cried the pain would go away; that if she lied awake and thought everything through she would understand the pain. She was wrong. She had never given much thought to how a broken life and a broken heart would be like; how it would look like. It was Wednesday. An old scrappy bus was slowly packing with individuals from the city taking their garbage back to their respective villages, either to their loved ones or their homes they hardly visited. There was very little traffic at the bus rank because it was right in the middle of the month and most people were at work.
Lorato had taken a seat next to the window so that she could be next to some air when the bus started building up with smoke from the exhaust. She could not stop thinking about the past month and what she had encountered, it hurt. The bus was noisy from people who were advertising the goods they sold in the bus rank; everything from food, to magazines and newspapers. Lorato did not notice them; she was preoccupied with her thoughts.
The city of Gaborone was maturing very fast. Lorato had just celebrated her nineteenth birthday when she arrived with her soon to be husband in the late 1990’s. All she could think about was how great their wonderful new beginning would turn out. She had known Thabo for most of her life from the little village of Meropeng, where they both grew up.
“We made it,” he said to her as they watched the bus they came in driving away to the farther side of the bus station.
“Yes, we made it. I’m so happy that I get to be with you finally,” she smiled at him.
An old man sat next to Lorato in the bus and this brought her back from memories. She turned her head to face the window, mostly because she did not want anyone to see her tears when she started to cry; she could not control her tears, they just flowed without a care in the world. Lorato thought about her parents and how they were going to react after so many years, a decade. Her father would probably not accept her back. She pictured the surprised look on her mother’s aged face; how she was so afraid of her husband she was going to agree to turn her away even though deep inside her heart she wanted to hold her child on her arms again and never let go. Lorato let out a deep sigh and felt her state of stability move resistively, the bus was taking off.
Lorato was going back to Meropeng, a little isolated village next to Serowe, what seemed to be the largest urbanised village in the country of Botswana. The bus would drop her off in Serowe and she would catch the only minibus that still transports people to her home village.
Meropeng was a very tiny village with a population no less than four hundred people. The village was surrounded almost completely by a hill, almost like a basin with an entrance, or a stadium. The hill stood tall protecting its people from the outside evil, which is how all the elders viewed it. No one really believed that a place like Meropeng existed until they actually came to see it for themselves; a place with only one way out in literal terms, unless one went over the hill. No one had ever been over the hill, just around it. This is because an old myth proclaimed the hill was cursed, as much as the people saw it as a protector against enemies. Anyone who went over the hill never came back; that is what the villagers knew and so they told their children and grandchildren and so on. No one though had ever witnessed such a happening. The sunset always was early and dawn was late because of the hill, but everyone was used to it.
Lorato wiped a tear from her cheek. She pulled with it make up she coloured her face with every morning; all the women in the city who were young and vibrant used make up, she was almost twenty nine years old. After an almost four hour trip, the bus finally landed in the village of Serowe. It was almost five in the afternoon and the bus rank in Serowe was slowly losing population. This was normal because people really did not travel in the evening all that much and there was no business for the sellers as well. Lorato stepped out of the bus and waited under a shed for the mini bus to Meropeng. She had a lot of language mostly containing gifts or her parents. If they accepted her back, then she would go back to the city to get the rest of her stuff.
A soft evening breeze was blowing and even though it was getting dark, the hot summer air was still circulating and the rays from the setting sun still pierced the skin very sharply.
“Excuse me, I’m headed for Meropeng village, do you need a ride,” asked an old man.
The time was going to six in the evening and Lorato had been waiting for almost an hour for the minibus.
“H-how did you know I was going to Meropeng?” She finally replied.
“My car is almost here to pick me up. I am headed there myself, would you like a ride,” he paused, “I mean the minibus you are waiting for has retired for the day because it’s too old to work nights in the dusty gravel road.”
A red ford fiesta parked at the almost deserted bus stop soon after the old man stopped speaking. The boot swung open and he threw his bags in. He looked up at Lorato with his offering eyes and she reluctantly made her way to the boot herself to throw in her luggage. Lorato hopped into the back seat and after greeting the driver, she witnessed a reunion of the old man with a much younger man in the driver’s seat; it must have been his grandson or something. She listened to her mind speaking to itself kind of like the same way she did the whole trip from the city to Serowe after the car went off.
Just take this as constructive criticism and convert this into a General Fiction Novel. I hope you know how to do it? Just PM any Moderator, preferably Lava, as I am more in touch with her, and she would get to your problems. 
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