There was a man, a man who died..died a long time ago before you and i even knew him. A few people were privileged to see him, speak with him and walk with them.
A few others despised him, others loved him and a minor few were called specially to go the journey with him.
There was a man who died, flesh of our flesh, blood of our blood..and yet and yet..he was beloved, and only son. Yet, he was of spirit, conceived in the inconceivable way..birthed in a place not fit for babies, searched for by those who wanted to harm, even worshiped by the men who were called wise and gifted with such rare things.
We were about five that night, walking into the house at night.
It was quiet, the occupants were asleep, and we were meant to take the family out down to the least person.
We had been paid good money enough to make me retire, make us retire. We never asked questions of who and why. We just carried out our operation.
And so we went, and we rounded the family up, and made them watch while we had fun with their mother and then their daughter, we took what they had also.
I had gone through hell trying to survive , by eight years old, sleeping under the bridge, eating from the dustbin , I had become an expert in stealing from unsuspecting passerbys, I had learnt to lie without being caught, I had become used to the hard life that I didn't flinch when I was pointed a gun.
I have a story to tell, it isn't pleasant but it must be told.
I would tell you about how I found life, but first I must tell you about how I died.
You see, I was about Six years old when it all began.
I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, those large ones that you can't really see the tail of the spoon. My father had a mansion, he owned his own company and I and my twin sister the only children...