CONVERGENCE: The Serial Killer Chronicles.

This is not a foul cry. This is my souls wish. This is my innermost instincts itching to come bare, wanting to be etched down, never to be forgotten. This is a far cry down curves and corners only spirits can reach. This is me that was never known; the me that is to be remembered whenever perils name is spoken. I hope for my names sake, all that is to be inked herein serves the best dish of what my memory permits. I pray it be an act of penitence for all wrongs ever done. I wish it reaches out to worlds beyond my grasp carrying with it a band of my thoughts regarding certain aspects of my existence I have longed to relive and retrace. Most importantly, I hope this serves as a beacon of peace, inner peace, having poured my will, my souls wish. As far as memories go, the farthest I remember about my infancy was me naked in the arms of a certain woman. Her eyes sparkled like emerald though they were attached to their sockets with forlorn tales of pain and anguish. She was dark of complexion, I later found out she had been compelled into that shade of black by the terrible hands of life’s rigours. Yet she smiled, exuding elegance and in her no one could see a once fanciful life; a tale which I later grew listening to at every given opportunity; a tale which formed my crust, made me into who I became, my very core. I learnt to live and love her as my mother who bore and never abandoned me. I had just been bathed and as it is with most infants during and after being bathed, we just had to cry. But for me, I particularly had a sharp dislike for water and in an alarming contrast, I love cold weather conditions. This has been my life up till this day. She rocked me in the cradle of her arms; it was warm, very warm. I continued crying. She rocked and rocked, I was not having it. I was a hard nut to crack. She resorted to what became a crucial part of my daily infant life; a lullaby of sorts. Was it meant to pacify or gently breeze me into Morpheus’ arms? The intention I never for once was interested to know. All I remember is that it worked wonders. It made me calm whenever I cried. I became peaceful. I smiled each time this rendition is offered, to God I think, in exchange for my troubles. Jésu ọmangbé é ọmangbé èsé n'ijésu lumen é ọmangbé It was repeated for as long as it took to get me to sheathe my sword and at the same time, she was gently rocking my tender body. After I had stopped crying, she powdered my supple skin with talc. She had a special brand for me. I grew to know it as Tony Montana. It filled my tender nostrils with sweet fragrances and I always cherished each moment. She rocked me some more, intermittently showering and offering eulogies with my name and those of my ancestors before me. I loved this part, it erupts in me a gay feeling, a special one. I'd always give a positive response to these gestures, they got to me, and they made me smile. All grown, I consider them more or less paying lip service to a little human just to broker a temporal peace, an armistice maybe. But it proved potent, who cares? Having made sure normalcy had been restored, Mother set me down to play. Then she went about her other dealings in and around the house. The house? Houses are for living and we were living in one where we were shielded from the torrential rains, the prickly burning sun rays, the horrendous effects of the wind and natures torrid conditions. Yes it did protect us, no matter how it looked. Hence it is a house. The vicissitudes of life had brought us to an all time low. Affluence was a fantasy, one that rarely came visiting us even in our dreams. Its repugnance of us was overbearing. We were, to it, bad news. It never wanted anything to do with us. We could corrupt it. Basic standard living made mockery of our sorry state. We were poor, we were broken. But it never was so. No, that is too subtle. I had heard in many comic skits, how poverty could be scared of visiting certain people for fear of it being corrupted and infested with their level and version of worthlessness. Picture that scene, we were that people.