In my past life, I was a nine year old African American boy who lived here in the United States in the South. I lived with my mother and 5 year old sister. My mother was the maid of a very rich farm owner who had a huge house. This house looked sort of like the White House. We lived in the back house, near the gardens or farm. Well, to make a long story short. I was murdered at age 9 by the rich man's son and his friend. T his took place during the Civil Rights era. I was more or less mob lynched, as you would call it. I was picked up by these two guys and driven to a remote part of the country. I was called racial names and told that they were going to kill me. When they stopped the cart, They told me that I could start running and that they would give me a head start. So, I did! But, I could not out run them, no matter how hard I tried. They caught up with me and started to beat me and punch me. Shoving me back and forth. We were next to a river and they tried to drown me, but I would not die easily. So, one of them took out a pocket knife and slashed my throat. The next memory I have is looking up from the sky and seeing my body laying face down in the water. I have many more memories of that life time, but not enough time to write about them all.