Death Roll

*ON DEATH'S ROLL*

*Episode 1*

Mr. Onome and his wife (my parents) were expecting a baby. It's been 15years since they got married, but no issue. So, when my mom suddenly developed an unusual morning sickness, my dad didn't hesitate to take her to see our family doctor at the hospital.

"Congratulations, pastor. God has finally answered your prayers. Your wife is three weeks pregnant!" The doctor said with a broad smile.

My dad didn't know how to express his joy. He knelt down and cried out in appreciation for this great wonders of God.

The time came for delivery, and I was born.

"His name shall be called Peter Oghenekevwe Onome" My dad said during my naming ceremony.

I was told the story of how at age 3, my life was almost sniffed from me, because I mistakenly drank kerosene thinking it was water, but God delivered me (thanks to the timely intervention of my loving mother who went mad, seeing me suffocating). She rushed to find oil and gave me to drink, praying and prophesying on my head.

When I eventually came round, I was taken to the hospital where I was attended to.

At age 7, I was already thinking I would be a pastor, looking at the way and manner I carried myself just like my dad. He was an anointed man of God with great signs and wonders accompanying his ministry.

I remember I was at home one day when a young girl was brought to our house. That day, my parents had left momentarily to visit a family for an emergency prayer.

"Where is pastor?" The girl's mother asked me.

"He and mommy went out not too long. They will be back soon" I said to her.

"Okay, we will wait o" She said in frustration.

"Mama, what's the problem?" I asked her.

She pointed to her daughter, "O God, who did I offend in this life?" She cried out.

I looked at the girl. She was looking rumpled and rough. Then, she began to shout and scream so loud that I had to close my ears.

I went inside, took my father's Bible, wore his suit (or rather, the suit wore me). When I came out, I was looking so odd.

The girl's mother looked at me with disdain and contempt.

"What is this?" She asked me.

"Bring your daughter. I want to pray for her" I said boldly.

The woman came with two other persons who were holding the girl. When they saw me, and heard what I said, they laughed me to scorn, but I wasn't distracted.

"I will pray for her and she will be well" I said to them, but they didn't believe me, so I walked straight to the girl boldly, and just like my father usually do, I laid my hands on her head and said, "Come out of her in Jesus name!"

After saying that, out of anger, they carried the girl away.

They returned that evening when my parents were around, shouting and praising God.

According to them, as they stepped into their house with the girl, she became well instantly. They told my parents what I did, and from that day, my dad never cease to carry me out for some ministerial operations which always saw me praying for the sick, and demon possessed.

I was only 7yrs old then.

In one of our services on Sunday, my dad, after preaching to the congregation, announced that I was going to be the one to say the final prayers. I wasn't prepared for that, as I was with the other children in the children church.

My mom came to carry me to the altar, gave me a microphone, and like a child, I prayed a short, simple and straightforward prayers for the sick.

The service ended very late that day because of the multitude of testimonies given by the members on how God had healed them through my prayers that day.

On my 10th birthday, tragedy struck my home like a lightning bolt.