Being poor was better than the adject, Jide, Chris, Lina and Mum struggled after dad passed on. Education was nowhere close to an option, our life was mocked by the environment, a naturally sabotage. Mum tried all she could for our survival, even in tears, her skin could show beyond tale, how hell it was with the scars she wore in graving pain. On this faithful and sorry day, the cloud was trembling with storm, still no signs of rain…….
Mum was out for her daily hustle with Jide, who was 18yesrs old and equally the first child. It happened like rockets of stars from the reflection of rays, blinded in tears was mum lying on the ground in deserted pool, gushing out of her stomach was blood and water, I quickly remembered the crucification at Calvary. Looking down, confused, sinked and bemoaned, I then looked around but couldn’t trace the shot, suddenly a man was driving by, he help mum to the hospital, still in blood.
After being operated upon before she passed on, the doctors took out four bullets, behold they were made in gold, each among the four bullets weighs a thousand karat. The bullets were sold, Jide, Chris and Lina then mourned in riches, and the RICH HUNTER WAS CAUGHT………..