Samuel Abrams

     My name is Samuel Abrams, and unlike my friend Shamus, I really don’t like talking about myself. But sometimes you just have to bite the bullet. I was born in Tyre on the Mediterranean Sea, in the year 3 B.C. by your calendar. I was born a slave, and I died a slave. But I was lucky; I was given an education to become a scribe. It was a far better life than most slaves lived. As a scribe my main duties were to keep written records of what happened each day. But in the last few years of my life I was sent to Judea to chronicle the life of Pontius Pilate.

     I was there at the same time as Jesus Christ. I had the opportunity to hear him speak once and I was truly changed by the experience. I wished I had the chance to hear more, but as a slave my comings and goings were not my own.

     I was also there when Christ died. I was sent to be the eyes of Pilate, and record the event. It was the lowest day in my life. I wish I had done something, anything. But I just stood there, a coward. I died a year later from pneumonia.