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The body of the missing kid was found in the drainage by the roadside this morning, he was decapitated with a few fingers missing and the head lying just beside the body. I saw the mother jump into the drainage and before anyone knew what was happening, she picked the baby in her arms, screamed and slumped quietly to the floor.


We all watched quietly as Dung narrated what he experienced earlier in the day and shook our heads. “At least he won’t get to grow up and experience this scam called life”  Nerat said as she took one big gulp of the alcohol.


The room got tensed, everyone drank in silence like speech was suddenly a taboo. Everyone avoided the other pairs of eyes in the room. I look straight at Dung and noticed how he swiftly shifted his gaze to the television that was mute even though switched on.


My mind drifts back to the day the body of the first girl that went missing was found. It was by the river side. I remember her mom wailing and her dad weeping uncontrollably. Spectators cursed on whoever would be so heartless to do that to a little girl.  Someone even said “they probably raped her and killed her to silence her”. I just nodded my head and left the scene.


Ever since the first one, ten kids had gone missing and were all found dead after a few days in the same local government. I heard one woman started preparing for the burial rites of her son a day after he went missing. It was the only thing that kept her sane at the time.


I feel bad for all those parents. Having to bury one’s child is the worst thing that could happen to any parent. But having kids you can’t take care of is far much a greater sin that even murder if you ask me.


Our parents gave birth to the three of us and abandoned their responsibilities towards us as parents. We grew up on the streets fending for ourselves. Our sister Nerat was raped as a teenager by a man who promised to help us pay for our meal. Dung narrowly escaped being lynched when he went to steal a pack of malaria drugs for me one time when I was ill.


Despite the troubles, we survived. Today, we own our own unisex saloon run by the three of us. It puts food on our table. For the bitter childhood we experienced, for the trauma we still struggle with today, we have decided to do our bid in ensuring that no kid gets to grow up the way we did.

We find kids with parents who pay little or less attention to and who are wallowing in poverty to kill.


We kill not to do the child harm but to save them from the pain of having a childhood like ours. I still remember the soft painful cry the last girl gave as Dung took her head off in one slice. I smiled because I know she’s now in a better place. I consider what we do as “euthanasia” in a way. There’s no pain at the moment but we know that it lies ahead and to prevent it, we do what we do. “Hahahahahah” I let out a cold dry laugh and my siblings joined “hahahahahah”.


“Cut” the director said. “You guys act so well that I almost believed” he said. “Oh director, this is one role I hate to act. The thought that some people actually think so and even do worse scares me about what lies in store for the generation to come. People are wicked for no reason and hide under an umbrella word to claim sanity and normalcy. So sad” .


My colleagues gave sad nods and everyone went back to business- I mean, this movie will not act itself. I hate it, but it’s my job to impersonate as best as I can, the good, the beautiful and the monsterous side of man.


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By king

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