Jesus took his last breath and died. It was noon and yet the sky became black and the earth trembled. There were thunder and lightning. I could hear some people screaming and asking what they have done. We just killed the son of God. While these same people were mocking him before, they could now see that it was a mistake. It was too late to realize this. We all stood there as Jesus was dying on the cross. No one helped or consoled him. He was just humiliated and teased, while he was in extreme pain.

I left the hill and walked back to the orphan children. They were asking me where I was and if I was a follower of Jesus. I responded that I just went for a walk to try to remember things. Then I sat in a corner trying to sort out everything I experienced. This was very personal. I experienced something that people still talked about in 2020. It was far worse than any story I heard or any film I have seen. The bad thing was that I could do nothing to stop it.

I closed my eyes and prayed to God telling him that I was sorry that I could not help. I wished that Jesus was no longer suffering, and he knew that some friends still loved him and cared about him. He was not alone. In fact, I knew that billions of people would believe in him in the future. This should have been some consolation. The problem was that I remembered seeing Jesus in so much pain.

The older girl sat next to me and whispered. She knew where I was. She knew that I went to see Jesus on a cross. She reminded me that the children here looked up to me and considered me as a leader. What would they think if they knew that their leader was a follower of someone accused of blasphemy? I looked at her and did not answer if I was a follower or not. I also suspected that she wanted my status as a leader and was jealous. Maybe it would be best just to let her have this status.

I was about to say that she could be the leader as I looked at the other children. I felt sorry that they didn't have the same family as me. Well, at least the one I had. They never had a mother or father to give them any hugs or read any stories. These children had no other than me. I was not even a teenager, how could I be a parent for these orphans? Still, they have chosen me to be their leader. It would be wrong for me to give it to a girl that I did not like.

Jesus was dead. No one talked about him except that the Jewish priests were looking for his followers. I figured that they must be afraid. They would also be put in some prison or die on a cross. I remembered something about Jesus rising from the dead. I was not going to tell anyone this. They would think that I was totally insane. Who would believe a small girl?

In the next few days, I have experienced what it was like to be a street orphan. We did not eat a lot and breakfast was what was leftover from the day before. This was hardly anything. Then I would help the small ones to wash and brush their hair. I wanted them to know that even though we did not have a lot of food, a decent place to live, or nice clothes, we could at least have pride and look our best.

We would spend the day walking around Jeruselum. The younger children would beg for money or food, while the older ones also tried to do some errands. I never experienced this before. My parents were well off and even if they lost their jobs, we would not be begging. We would get help from the government. It was not the same back in Roman times. There was no help and this meant that these children had to fend for themselves.

Begging was humiliating and something I could not get used to. It made me think that history classes at school never taught how hard it was for children in the past. Now I was one of them and I had to survive with them. Most Romans would look at us and sigh and complain orphan children were pests. The rich Jews were the same, even their priests. The strange thing was that it was often the poor people that gave us something. It was obvious that they also spent day to day surviving.

When we met at night, it was tense. We were hoping that everyone would return, If someone did not, we would sit in quietness wondering where they were. There was always a danger that someone would be hurt or even kidnapped by some slave traders. When an orphan was late, we would sit and thinking the worse. It was all forgotten when the child showed up. We then would pretend to have a feast with what little we got that day.

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I cried at night as I knew I was stuck here. I knew I could try many things to get back to 2020 and my family, but this failed when I was a cave girl. Maybe the magic of the history book sends me home. The problem was that I would not know where or when. There was also a possibility that it would not send me. I could be here for the rest of my life.

Until something happened, I could not trust that magic would send me away. I decide to do my best for the orphans. I talked with them each and heard about their lives and what they liked and did not. They all had ambition and wanted to be someone important. It was as if I was no longer just a child. I was also responsible for others. Not only that, but I cared about them all and loved them as they were my own brothers and sisters. They were my adopted family.

A few days later, I decided to walk where Jesus was buried. It was basically a cave. I walked into the cave as the stone was moved aside. There was nothing there except a flat stone. Then I remembered the easter story where Jesus rose from the dead. I figured that this must be the reason why he was not there. It made me smile, as it showed that Jesus no longer was suffering and beat death itself. The good guy won at the end. I fell on my knees and started praying.

As I was praying, some Roman soldiers coming towards the cave. I could hear them shout and ask what I have done with the body. I did not answer. I ran and ran as fast as my legs could. I could hear the Roman soldiers coming after me. I was so afraid! Luckily, I was a fast runner. When I entered the city, I went through a maze of smaller streets. I knew that if the Romans captured me, it would be the worse thing that ever happened to me.

In the end, I was exhausted but relieved when the Roman soldiers gave up.

When I came back to the hideout, the older girl started yelling at me, "Where were you? They say they are looking for a poor girl that was spotted from the grave of Jesus. That must be you! While you are visiting a dead blasphemer, one of the small children has not come back. This is all your fault."

I just sat and told the others there was nothing to do. We waited all night. I was still awake as the others fell asleep. I could not sleep as I felt responsible. The missing child should have been back by now. I was worried about what happened to her. Was the child hurt or even killed? Was the child captured by some slave traders? Not knowing was a very bad feeling. I could not find out where the missing child was or what happened.

The next day, I went looking for the missing child. I went to all the places that we usually went to and could not find her. I was hoping that someone nice pitied her that she was homeless and adopted her from the streets.

I had to be careful as I went around the streets. I heard people say that the Romans were looking for a young girl that was at the grave of Jesus. This made me somewhat afraid. What would the Romans do if they arrested me? How did they punish children? I would probably have to work as a slave. I did not want this to be my life and the orphan children needed me.

I also heard some say that the followers of Jesus were saying that he rose from the dead. No one believed in these rumours, but it made life more dangerous for his followers. The Romans would consider them as rebels and want to arrest and kill them. I knew differently. I knew that Jesus has risen from the dead and billions would follow him in the future. I felt like it was an honour to be present at the most historic moment in history.

I was happy about the resurrection and unhappy about the child going missing. To make things worse, some roman soldiers noticed me, so I gave them another chase through the streets and alleyways. I was, of course, afraid and did not know why they thought I was so bad or dangerous. I was afraid they would throw their weapons at me or do something to hurt me. I had no intention of roman soldiers whipping me or selling me as a slave. I was relieved when they gave up once again.

When I came back to the orphans, everyone was still afraid and sad. The silence was deafening. I wanted to cheer them up, so I told them that Jesus rose from the dead. The smallest orphans were interested in the story, and asked did this mean that he was the son of God? When I nodded, the oldest orphan once again got mad. She told them that this was a trick by the followers and they just stole the body to make it look like he rose from the dead.

Then she looked at me and shouted, "I seen roman soldiers chase you today. I knew that you were the girl that they were looking for. You are dangerous. You will get us all killed! You are trying to corrupt us with all this Jesus talk and now the Romans want you. I heard the Roman soldiers will be sending a legion out tomorrow just to look for you! You are no longer welcome here. Leave us now and never come back."

I sat there, not knowing what to do or say. Then some picked a stone up and said if I did not leave, they would stone me.

I walked away from the hut. I needed a place to hide, as the Romans were looking for me