Black males rarely attempted to write short stories before the Civil War. It was not until the 1880s that the Negro writer of short stories emerged. Charles Chestnutt was one of the first short story writers.
...the world of [Black people] is a complex one and that any short story setting out to picture even the smallest segment of that world must deal with characters who reflect all the complexities of their world.
In a short story, where a single incident can be explored in all of its variegated coloring and shading, the [Black] author has an opportunity to attempt a fuller delineation of such characters than is possible in other literary forms.
From The Negro Caravan
I tried to capture the complexity of a character in the piece I penned below:
Not So Strange After All
By
Alfred W. Tatum
“Get away from me you devil-loving maggot.” His name was Leon. My name was Leon. I noticed him sitting outside of CVS pharmacy jingling a green and white cup. “God, Bless. Have a nice day,” is what he said to everybody who gave him some change, and to those who refused. That’s why I was surprised with his outburst when I decided to sit beneath the large storefront window next to him. I was not close enough to offend, but close enough to chat. I circled the block several times before engaging in this strange behavior. I could not help myself; he had a striking resemblance to my father who had died a year earlier from an acute case of pneumonia. I wanted to know the story behind the man who sat spread out on Canal Avenue with a matted, salt and pepper beard. It was something about his hands and the cup that did not match. His fingernails were striking. I expected them to be dirty, unmanicured, and troubled-looking. But, they were clean and well cared for.
“Your hands. I noticed your hands are well cared for.”
He stared at me with eyes of pointed rejection. His wide nostrils were flaring, sort of bullish. I became nervous, only finding comfort in the fact that the streets were crowded during the early evening as people rushed to get home to their spouses and children. He would be crazy enough to attack me for sitting next to him.
“Your shoes don’t fit,” he said.
“What?”
I was wearing black shoes with no strings; they were slip-ons.
“They are artificial. It seems like you are striving for something you are not.”
I was offended and curious at the same time. The homeless philosopher, I thought.
“Why do you believe you have the right to sit next to me in my personal space? Do I have the right to walk into your home and ask you questions?”
I remained silent.
“I hate those shoes on your feet. I really feel sorry for you.”
This came from a man wearing a pair of dirty Nikes with shoestrings that only covered the holes on the bottom half of his shoes. It seemed like he cut one shoestring in half to use for both shoes. I paid $190 for the Italian leather on my feet, but my feet began to feel uncomfortable.
“I bet you paid more than $100 for your shoes so that you can feel good about yourself.”
It was as if he reached into my thoughts without my permission.
As I begin to rise to walk away, he grabbed my arm.
“I thought you wanted to talk – to find out about me. I see your type all the time.”
My type? The way he said, “your type,” pinched me. I was trying to frantically piece together the clean hands and the dirty shoes. They told more than one story. The language he spoke did not match the coffee cup.
“Hi Leon,” I heard the lady say. I immediately responded, and she said, “No, I was talking to the other, Leon.”
“How are your wife and kids,” she asked.
“Too far away to know, and too close not to care.”
“Who’s your friend?”
Friend? What did she mean, friend? How could she possibly view us as friends? We could not appear more different.
“Or, is this just another one,” she asked.
“Just another one,” he said.
She looked down at me and said, “I like your shoes. They’re nice.”
They both started laughing as she dropped a few coins in his cup.
“See you later, Leon.”
“Bye, Ms. P.”
“You too, Leon;” this time she was directing her comments toward me.
I managed to utter a soft-spoken, bye, not really knowing how to react. I was beginning to feel trapped in a strange fog. I wanted to leave, but I did not know how to sever the ties.
“It’s okay if you leave now; you are the not the first, you know,” he said.
He read my mind again. He gave me the permission that I wanted, but I still didn’t know how to take it. The laughter, being called friend, and the lady complimenting my shoes poked at me. I stood, not really making sense of what had happened during the last fifteen minutes.
“Can you spare some change before you leave, friend?”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a dollar to drop in the cup.
“On second thought, you keep your money to get a new pair of shoes.”
I walked away glancing down at my feet. I still had a chance to catch the train home.
I felt like - just another one. After sitting down on the train, I noticed that there was more Italian leather on people's feet, than Nikes.
I sat silently on the ride home, just wondering, thinking.
Bus Card
ReplyDeleteI aint gon finish. It keeps me down. I’m not really doing this what I want a fancy piece of paper for to show me how I wasted 18 years of my life for. My daddy aint get it and he still doin good even if I only met him twice. My mom just workin two jobs to support us both I can do that to. “Hey kid,” he turned around “You gonna pay or not”, “here you go,” he stumbled back as he looked in his wallet and slipped a yellow bus card into the fare machine. He choose a in the the back. He knew he was going to be there a while. He sat in a seat. And dozed off . He was there for at least four hours. Going in a circle looking at people get on and off the bus was never empty and at moments did’nt seem to have enough space. He went back to sleep the darkness of night time seemed to creep the the windows and the bus was full with moonlight. He thought back to the argument.
“When you goina get a job” his mom asked.
“Do I really need 1 we doing fine”
“Yeah but I can take the strain off my back and working one job would be more gooder then working two for some lazy bum and myself”
Hey don’t talk about me like that,” I aint no bum”
“Yeah well this bum is finna leave you don’t appreciate me I hate you”
Well then get out my house before I go and call the cops on you.
She snatched a broom and started hitting him get out my house you dumb bum.
As Rammond ran out he only had enough time to snatch his bus card.
He ran to the bus stop did some talking and ended up here. “Hey kid” if you doze off again im going to kick you off the bus. He looked around the bus he was the only person on the bus. Why you on here to take a nap any way. I don’t have to tell you anything .
Well you don’t but im trying to help your situation you got kicked out your house did’nt you.
“Yeah”
How you figure all that out
You’re the only kid I know who would stay on the bus this long and not panic over missing a stop. He looked up at the red display above his head. It was heading to the garage so he had only about ten minutes left to stay on the bus then he had to find a bed to sleep on.
“Hey kid”
“You finish high school yet.”
“You look about that age you graduate?”
The words came off like metal and then the weight of those very words almost collapsed his head.
“No”
The man looked puzzled you look like a smart fellow I thought you were good how many years you got left. Oh I dropped out.
“Why”
That’s dumb and that’s what people who want to work all there lives do why did your drop out. You can bearly go any were with only a with only a high school diploma and you don’t even have that. C’mon man why did you stop
“To me it’s just a piece of paper.”
“Well your screwing your life up not mine now get off the bus.”
Rammond got off the bus a changed man.
“Moma! Awnser the door.”
“What you want I wanted to apologize. Also I’m finna finish school, and im finna get a job”
She just sat there and sobbed
Harlan
ReplyDeleteBrandon P. Wilson
Harlan was a handsome guy. I got my fair share of looks from the ladies, but it seemed like Harlan got the biggest share and stole shares from the less genetically inclined. Jenny Chandler was a goddess. All the guys at school called her “Jesus Christ,” not only for her initials but also for what they said every time she passed by. Jenny happened to be Harlan’s girlfriend. Harlan happened to be my best friend. It was a Tuesday in November and I didn’t feel like doing any homework. On any other lazy Tuesday I would go home, usually just chill—alone. But today I wanted company.
“Yo, Harlan,” I approached him through a crowd of schoolmates, “You trying to go to Stella’s and get these burgers or what, man?”
“Nah, I can’t dude. Gotta go to Jenny’s” he smirked. I stared at him blank-faced for about three seconds. “Alright just burgers,” he succumbed. “I’m gonna be out a girlfriend if I keep letting you take me out, sweetheart.” He threw an arm around me. Harlan could joke like a comic but had a stare like a disrupted eagle. He had far more talents than I, much more money. We walked into Stella’s Burger Shack, and like a normal, civil kid, Harlan’s eyes were on the menu. Mine were settled right below it, fixed on the cashier who had suddenly seemed to have made life worth living. Harlan didn’t waste any time.
“What comes on the Sunny Man’s Delight?”
“Tomato and Long Island dressing.”
“Would you recommend it?”
“Sure.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
Harlan had somehow managed to elicit a nervous smile from her. She began swaying from side to side.
“Why do you ask?”
It was at that moment that I realized I may have recognized her from our school. Harlan knew I wasn’t good with girls. In that same moment I stared at Harlan with sincere hate and disgust. I didn’t have any time to think before I saw Harlan begin to turn my way.
“Cause my man right here has his eyes set on you.”
In the approximate ninety-three nanosecond window I had to concoct a smooth, Harlan-like response, I froze. I waved. Harlan’s eyebrows fell flat as if to say, “Not even I can help you.” And if Harlan couldn’t help you, you had to be terminally ill. I saw him whisper something to her across the counter; she smiled. I wanted to kill Harlan. He turned back and we found a place to sit while we waited for our food. The fact that Harlan wasn’t even hungry and had still seemed to have benefit from coming to a restaurant sizzled in my gut as she brought our burgers out and placed them on the table. She gave both me and Harlan napkins. But mine had writing on it. She smiled and turned away. I looked at the napkin, then at Harlan. And then a smile. Good old Harlan.
End Part 1
That night we ended up at Harlan’s house because Jenny texted saying her parents had gotten home. We did our homework together. We were both juniors, but Harlan and I only had one class together. Most of mine were honors level; he took classes that allowed him to coast. That’s what Harlan liked to do. More because I needed a brief distraction than because my bladder was filled, I got up and walked down the hall to the bathroom. I didn’t tell Harlan what I was doing, but that was the status I had achieved at his house. I had been here more times than I can count, but seeing the way Harlan had convinced that cashier to give me her phone number made me see things differently. I looked down at the marble floors, then up at the Italian chandeliers that glistened on the ceiling, then back down and over the railing at the three floors beneath me. By the time I got to the bathroom I began to feel that same hatred I felt earlier—my gut clenched. I closed the door, taking a minute to look at myself in the mirror. I ran the water to create a background noise, as if I was afraid of my thoughts being heard from outside the room. I looked at myself, scanned my face. I live with my mom on the fourth floor of a neighborhood project. I can’t sleep without smelling weed and hearing gunshots. My bathroom floor is goddamn concrete. I suddenly remembered my reason for being in the bathroom, so I walked over to the toilet. I missed on purpose. Without flushing I walked furiously back to the room where I started to repack my bookbag and leave.
ReplyDelete“Jesse,” Harlan dropped his book and stood up, “Where you going?”
“I’m out, man.”
Harlan took off his reading glasses and purposefully approached me. “What, you just gonna walk all the way home right now? At this time? In your neighborhood? Man, sit down and help me finish my homework man, come on.”
I decided not to hold anything back, to let that clench in my gut finally come out and speak its peace. “Yea, I’m gonna WALK!” I began to get watery eyes. “You got everything you need here man, You got it made like a little bitch.”
“It’s like that then, huh.”
“It’s like that,” I began to strut backwards out of the room, “So go flush my piss.”
Harlan stared at me, eyebrows flat, with a glare that uttered, you just lost your best friend.
End Part 2
It took me thirty minutes walking under the cloudy night sky to reach my neighborhood. The whole time I trudged, I breathed through my nose, mouth sealed shut, eyebrows pointed inward, heart rotten. I walked through the project’s front yard, interrupting two dice games, a drug deal and a gun sale. Nothing phased me. I marched up the stairs, all the way to the fourth floor, and slammed in the door.
ReplyDelete“Jesse, baby, you’re home,” she stood up to greet me from the stained, ripped couch. I was heading straight for my room. “How was sch—”
“Shut the fuck up and sit down.” I bumped into her as I straight-lined for my room.
“Jesse,” her confused, tearful eyes examined me.
“Don’t look at me like that!” My eyes began to match hers. “You don’t do shit for me! Look around! What do we have! Did you cook dinner? Probably not ‘cause there ain’t shit to cook! Can I watch the game? No because we got no fucking cable! Just do the world a favor and die!”
I slammed my door and face-planted onto the bed. Within thirty seconds my pillow was soaked. The living room was completely silent. I could imagine my mom sitting on that couch, staring into the floor, feeling worthless. Feeling failure. Then I heard the front door open and shut. Mom liked to take walks as a form of therapy. Choking on my breaths, I wiped my tears and stood up. Looking out the window usually helped, because if there was one luxury in living where I lived, it was that you could see the Sears Tower from my bedroom. I looked down at the front yard where I had just passed. Still playing dice. Still dealing drugs. Still selling guns. A couple of the guys playing dice began to get loud with each other over the legitimacy of someone’s roll. At the same time I saw Mom leaving the building to go for her walk, about to pass through their game, just like I did. Their argument got louder. The guys started pointing fingers. One pulled out a gun. The rest ran. The gunman pointed his barrel at the guy he suspected of cheating him. He fired. I froze. It hit mom. The large crowd that I fearlessly walked through to get home had dispersed, the gunman had fled. I sprinted out of the house screaming for my mom. I got to her body and sat in a pool of blood, holding my face to her chest, screaming, sobbing. “Mom,” snot and sweat rained from my face, “I’m so sorry. Please don’t die, please forgive me, I’m so goddamn sorry.”
Coming to home less
ReplyDeleteBrother Author #3
With my treasure in my black plastic Hefty bag and my controlling old woman beside me, I boarded my last hope.
“Get off my station you thing, the people here despise you. Do you even have a name?”
“Do you think I walk around nameless? How could reject another human being? Are you one?” I said.
“Don’t argue with him, Drew,” my girl said walking away from the hell station. I don’t why she always leaves me but I really don’t care.
“But what are we…”
“Are you getting on or not, others are waiting!”
By the time I could say come on honey she was gone. By the time I could sit down people were already staring. Whispers of the morning haunted the weak without homes like me, hopeless, and self-conscious. Danger on the streets of Chicago was not avoided like all mornings, where CTA buses and hell stations don’t stop at bus stops. Train stations served as borderlands between communities and gangs. Fellow hoarders like me found making more money in Roseland then Beverly but still don’t find the time to be safe in a shelter.
I found all these observations on the western bus, the carrier of dreams, and the freeloader of the stupid. I found myself thinking out loud in front of everybody and like most people they didn’t care except the isolated basted behind the wheel.
“Get off my bus”
“But it’s not my stop, only a few more minutes.”
“It’s your stop now though.”
I got off of the bus to find myself in a confusing territory. The fortunate and unfortunate of Chicago all walking on one street. It was a thing of beauty and disgust, Michigan Avenue. From a soap box speech in a large crowd, to 3 kids making music on a corner, money was everywhere… my type of place, but this is not my real place. I want to be somewhere else, in a place of comfort with a cushion supported by a mattress. Not sleeping on old Fed-Ex box put together with glue. All of my best friends are professional cup shakers, hustlers, street roamers, and special talent users. I really don’t need this. I’m not Hancock or Eli, I want a home.
My future lies on that… wait what am I saying. I hate Chicago, I don’t like stench of pee on the train station, the path of broken leaves or broken dreams under the viaduct, or the…
“Learn how to not think aloud, it could get you thrown off a bus. And how could you not love Chicago, the place of after school programs and light skin women.”
“But what about the corner stores and all of the We accept Link signs outside”
“But you chose all of this, to drown yourself in being unsuccessful.”
“You don’t understand Byron, I have been enjoying”
“What”
“Hope”
“Sike, Drew we could open and win your case. Your just soft.”
I looked around to see the downtown view to see all of things Chicago have shown him. He walked away without another word.
Bus Card
ReplyDeleteI aint gon finish. It keeps me down. I’m not really doing this what I want a fancy piece of paper for to show me how I wasted 18 years of my life for. My daddy aint get it and he still doin good even if I only met him twice. My mom just workin two jobs to support us both I can do that to. “Hey kid,” he turned around “You gonna pay or not”, “here you go,” he stumbled back as he looked in his wallet and slipped a yellow bus card into the fare machine. He choose a in the the back. He knew he was going to be there a while. He sat in a seat. And dozed off . He was there for at least four hours. Going in a circle looking at people get on and off the bus was never empty and at moments did’nt seem to have enough space. He went back to sleep the darkness of night time seemed to creep the the windows and the bus was full with moonlight. He thought back to the argument.
“When you goina get a job” his mom asked.
“Do I really need 1 we doing fine”
“Yeah but I can take the strain off my back and working one job would be more gooder then working two for some lazy bum and myself”
Hey don’t talk about me like that,” I aint no bum”
“Yeah well this bum is finna leave you don’t appreciate me I hate you”
Well then get out my house before I go and call the cops on you.
She snatched a broom and started hitting him get out my house you dumb bum.
As Rammond ran out he only had enough time to snatch his bus card.
He ran to the bus stop did some talking and ended up here. “Hey kid” if you doze off again im going to kick you off the bus. He looked around the bus he was the only person on the bus. Why you on here to take a nap any way. I don’t have to tell you anything .
Well you don’t but im trying to help your situation you got kicked out your house did’nt you.
“Yeah”
How you figure all that out
You’re the only kid I know who would stay on the bus this long and not panic over missing a stop. He looked up at the red display above his head. It was heading to the garage so he had only about ten minutes left to stay on the bus then he had to find a bed to sleep on.
“Hey kid”
“You finish high school yet.”
“You look about that age you graduate?”
The words came off like metal and then the weight of those very words almost collapsed his head.
“No”
The man looked puzzled you look like a smart fellow I thought you were good how many years you got left. Oh I dropped out.
“Why”
That’s dumb and that’s what people who want to work all there lives do why did your drop out. You can bearly go any were with only a with only a high school diploma and you don’t even have that. C’mon man why did you stop
“To me it’s just a piece of paper.”
“Well your screwing your life up not mine now get off the bus.”
Rammond got off the bus a changed man.
“Moma! Awnser the door.”
“What you want I wanted to apologize. Also I’m finna finish school, and im finna get a job”
She just sat there and sobbed
The way out Pt 1
ReplyDelete“Marcus, Marcus!”
I hear the faint cry of my name but I’m too tired to pay much attention.
“Marcus!”
I hear it again but I pay it little mind, maybe it’ll go away. Suddenly I awaken to a swift hit to the face. A man with a solid build stood over me. Anger burned in his eyes. His plum-like fingers tightly gripped my arm. He jerked me from my bed and threw me into the bathroom.
“Get ready!”
Those were the last words I heard for the next thirty minutes except for the occasional “hurry up” I heard from downstairs. I then proceeded to leave out for school. No food, no “goodbyes” or “I love you’s” just “get out already you’re slowin’ me down!”
But later that day it happened, I just had to stay out late.
“Hey man wanna go play some ball?” Lucas a boy slightly taller and bulkier than me, asked.
Lucas said, a boy slightly taller than me and a little more bulky.
“Well…” despite my constant warnings from him I agreed to play some ball, maybe it’ll get my mind off of him and home.
“Game to thirty” about four of those went on. Next thing I knew I was rushing home, hoping to God he wasn’t there yet, please get caught in traffic or something, heck get pulled over for all I care I prayed. Nope, there he was waiting for me with that anger I saw previously this morning. Wanting to just run away in the opposite direction I slowly walked towards the house. I knew what was coming next and I hated that I did.
Lots of kids probably get a similar sort of consequence but mine, mine was different, horribly different. He hit, but he kept hitting till no end. I wanted him stop but he wouldn’t, why wouldn’t he stop? I couldn’t defend myself. He was too big and he hit too hard.
“What did I tell you boy about stayin’ out late?” He kept hitting until he saw blood and even then he didn’t stop.
“I’m sorry I just wanted to play ball with my friends!”
“Please, like you have any friends, who would wanna be around a worthless piece o’ shit like you?”
The way out Pt 2
ReplyDelete“I’m not worthless, one day I’m gonna be somethin’ important, someone much better than you!”
“Boy you ain’t gonna be better than nobody.”
Finally he stopped. I felt relieved, but I knew it wasn’t over. He kept doing it, he kept hurting me. Every time he finds something to hurt me more, the hot base of an iron, wooden planks, even sticks from outside. No matter, what I told myself that same phrase I won’t die, I won’t die. Then I saw it, something or someone that could help me.
This commercial on TV, it’s like it was directed towards me. I knew I had to call that number. I swiftly flipped from the channel when I heard his footsteps. He sent me off to bed with a threat of more pain. I hurried upstairs. I kept that number I saw on the commercial written down on a small slip of paper hidden deep inside my left pocket. I kept the number but never use it. The thought of it all frightened me. I’m just gonna do it. Anything must be better than him. I made sure to call exactly two minutes before he gets home from work. They should be here by the time he’s back. Correct I was, for they both got here around the same time. My father arriving a minute earlier. A knock on the door, it had to be them and it was. Two people came-a man and a woman.
“Mr. Jackson it has come to the understanding that you have been brutally beating your son here,” said the man.
“I ain’t done no shit like that!” As he looked violently at me knowing I made the call.
“Don’t deny it, your son called us and from the look of his back and arms he wasn’t lying.”
All across my back were countless bruises and cuts as if I was just a punching bag to him.
“I would like to take Marcus with me somewhere so he will be safe from you,” the woman said.
“And you Mr. Jackson, are coming with me,” the man said with an anger still inferior to my father’s. She took in me in her car. I looked back at the house. When we started moving I felt happy I was leaving that place. But the less I could see the house the more feelings changed. I pondered. Will the place I go to fun? Are there others like me here? My questions were about to be answered. The woman took me to an orphanage. I didn’t wanna go somewhere like there. It seemed weird. I didn’t know calling them would end me up here. It was such a small place, with kids playing in the nearby yard. Maybe I could make the best of this, maybe.
Part 1
ReplyDeleteKnowledge
And this is how it happened…
“What you on man?” asked Jo. See I call all my customers, Jo. I don’t want to develop a relationship with them. I rather not know your name.
“About to go back to the crib and sleep. What you on, Jo?” I asked
“Nothing, you know you got that fire around here. I don’t know what that dub would be without you.”
“Yeah, Yeah. This wasn’t even hot until I came around. People caught on; saw I was selling out like hot cakes. Now everybody wants to bag nickel weed. But all and all, im the head honcho.”
Smooth talker, huh? Ha! I know. But you have to have it all. It’s called Swag my dude. That is another conversation for another day. Anyhow in the morning you don’t wake up and think your going to get shot, robbed or even get locked up. If life was that way, life would not be fun. Enough of that back to my story.
The police accompanied me, as I walked down my block. I debate with myself half way down the block if I want to throw this gun or not. Well I finally come to a stop next to a bush. Mind you, they are still riding behind me slowly. So I pretend to tie my shoe. Easing the gun from my shoe. It was a 22. Caliber, nothing major. I tossed it in the bush and continued on my way. I was going to come back and get it later or maybe in the morning. Nope! They had to stop me on the corner.
I know ya’ll know the routine when the police stops you. They tell you to put your hands in the hood of the car, pat you down and so on and so on. It was two of them checking me. I watched with a sour look on my face as one of the officers moved towards the bushes.
“Now my partner is going to go over there and searched where you stopped. Is there anything you would like to tell me?” Dude asked.
“Nah, I have nothing.” My heart was moving faster than the speed of light. Man I had so much adrenaline I even thought about running. But what sense would that have made if they had my name and address already. So I played the cards I was dealt in this game.
“Man, Los dawg you should have ran,” said a distance voice.
“Yeah young blood, you don’t need this here. But you’ll be gone soon right?” asked another distant voice.
Part 2
ReplyDelete“Of course. Eight months is sweet. I took that and smiled. I can’t wait to get home and see my daughter and the rest of my family. I just know my grandma is going to throw me a party, so I am going to eat real good.”
I had been moved around so much over the past three months. I never really got to know anyone. I was always watching my back, can’t trust anyone when you are in the system. That’s how I viewed it. These dudes are on the same grind you on. They eat the same food you eat and shower at the same place. So why fight when your not going to advance? I asked myself that all the time. But once I got to Oxford, Wisconsin; I met an OG from the same neighborhood I was from. He told me everything that I needed to know. He had been locked up for 10 years and has 4 to go. His words echo in my head, “You have to be smart. These white folks don’t care about you. I know you knew that already. But I bet you didn’t know that these lil dudes you call your friends. They don’t care either. They on the same grind you on. They want to eat just like you eat. Where you come from, everyone is hungry. And that hunger never cease. You know why?”
“No.”
He laughs, “You are where you come from, meaning that you are an product of your environment.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, all I could do is think about what could have brought me to this point in my life. From there on I wanted to do better for my daughter and me.
Five months and twenty-one days later, I was released to a party just like I thought. It felt so good that I got a chance to see my family again. A week after I got out, I went to try and find a job. I went to five places and each place asked if I had been convicted, I answer truthfully and they told me I was no use to them. I was hurt, but not too hurt. For I knew I had a job, a job that I was so use to doing. Then I heard that one voice I heard once before. I dreamt about the same four walls that surrounded me, with a sink that was so old that knobs were gone. The chains that connecting the bunk bed to the wall and the bold head, gray beard man. The very same man that told me his life story, about the struggle, and how he became another product of his environment. Then the words of the employers summoned. You’re useless to us.
Now I am back to square one. Do what you have to do to survive. Its either you be a wolf or a sheep. I took the road to be a wolf.
Part 1
ReplyDeleteThree weeks. That is how long he had to wait. Nick sat in the back of his mom’s Bentley. His baby sister Lily was in her pink flower car seat next to him. His mom was on the phone. His other sister Sarah was sitting in the front texting. He looked out the window hoping that there would be another car in the driveway. When he looked his face was disappointed. He approached a three story house; His three-story house. His book bag became the reason of fatigue while he walked up the long stairway.
“Would you like a sundae, sir?” his butler Bob asked with a smile.
“I’m good Bob. Just leave me.”
The butler left looking kind of disappointed. A sundae usually cheered Nick up, but today was different. His phone was yelling at him for attention. It was the person he was looking forward today. Nick ignored the picture that was flashing on his phone screen.
“Hey Nick,” his mother said as she entered the room.
“Have you ever heard of knocking?”
“Yes but I only do that to a house that’s not mine,” she said as she smiled.
“ Oh… Burn!” his sister said as she walked by the room.
Part 2
ReplyDeleteNick stuck his middle finger at her when his mom had turned her back. He looks at his calendar. Three weeks is the last day. He better show up. Nick grabbed a pen and drew a red x on the date of yesterday. The pen dropped on the floor as he lay in his bed silently. His mom rubbed his head and left the room.
Two weeks and 6 days later.
Nick was shooting the basketball. The ball bounced as fast as Nick’s heart was pounding. He shot the ball with a swish as his heart skipped a beat. He was ready for tomorrow. As he walked inside his mom was crying on the couch.
“What’s wrong mom?”
She kept crying like she didn’t hear Nick’s voice.
“Mom, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s happening!”
She pointed at the T.V. The news was on and they were talking about the army. A bomb went in a American base in Iraq and killed twenty people.
“Mom, what’s that have to do with anything?”
“She kept pointing to the screen. Nick was annoyed because he didn’t know what was happening. He kept looking at the T.V. They were naming names of the people who died. As the names appeared on the screen, Nick still didn’t understand what was wrong.
“MOM WHAT IS IT!”
His mom yelled at the top of here lungs “HE’S DEAD!” She started to start sobbing again. Nick stood frozen. Looking at the names on the screen.
Three weeks. He didn’t even make it.
B.A.13
ReplyDeleteA Nite In No Luv City
It was a Saturday night and the guys and me were chillin’ on the block. We were at the basketball court shooting some hoops as usual. Everybody was having fun. Not to mention it was Mickle’s birthday. So you know we had some loud on deck and some liquor. Police was hot that night. I couldn’t understand why out of all nights when the block trying to get it crackin’ the police wanted to circle the block. Since we seen that the police wasn’t goin’ to leave the guys and me went around the corner to the traphouse. Everybody ended up coming over there. It turned into a party at the trap. The gurls was there, folks and them was bumpin’ some Flocka and Gucci Mane, drinks, good weed it was on. I was feelin’ myself I was gone off some Remy and a dime bag. I was all ova’ the place. Dancin’ with every gurl that I seen.
I had to go to church the next morning. But I didn’t care I was havin’ a good time. I was sittin on the couch talking to this chick that was fine as hell. Before I knew anything my ex-girlfriend Dominique walked in.
DOMINIQUE!! WHAT THE HELL IS YOU DOIN’ HERE?
She replied, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK NIGGA’ I CAME TO SHAKE SOME ASS!!
AW HELL NALL NOT WHILE I’M HERE!
Whateva Parris you not my man no more, and last time I checked you wasn’t my man.
Ok whateva I don’t care what about do anymore, you do you and I’m gonna do me.
I went about my business and kept talkin’ to all the sexy ladies that were dancin’ all over me, at the same time lookin’ at Domonique wishing that she was still my gurl. Dominique and me had known each other for about 5 years. We dated for about 2 years. Her and me went through a lot together. I realized that the feelings I had for her weren’t gone. There was some hatred she had towards me, something that was out of my hands. I could tell that she was mad. She mean mugged me every time she seen me all ova’ another gurl. I didn’t feel comfortable the rest of that nite. It was getting late and I decided that I was goin’ to leave. I walked around to all of the guys to let them know I was heading out. I noticed out the corner of my eye as I was making my way towards the door that Dominique was looking at me and reached for her phone and called someone. I didn’t think anything of it so I left. One of the guys Jamal left the party with me because I was too tipsy. We were on our way to my house and I heard someone scream my name.
PARRIS!!!!
I turned around stumbling it was Dominique.
What do you want gurl?
I kept walking, as I was walking I seen these two guys walking towards me looking suspicious. I turned back around and looked at Dominique she yelled out to the two guys.
THAT’S THE NIGGA RIGHT THERE GET HIS ASS!!!
I looked at Jamal; he looked at me we both took off running.
One of the guys pulled out a gun and started shooting. I ran in zigzags tryin’ to dodge the bullets. They chased me for about a block. It was dark outside so I dipped through a gangway, but they didn’t see me. I was about 2 blocks away from my house. I walked alleys to be safe, still being cautious. I finally got to my house I fell out on the front porch. I layed there and looked up in the sky and sayed to myself,
What is goin’ on?
I wonder if Jamal is alright, because he disappeared?
Why would Domonique set me up like this?
I knew that I had done some very deceiving things to hurt her but I never thought it would come back to bite me in my ass like this.
Before I can even say a word, I was thinking about what Kim said when she stated that Jazz lives with her from time to time. I wanted to know why. I looked at my watch. It was 3:00pm; and school was ending. Walking towards my car, I look back at my phone to get the time Its 3:25pm, I had to hurry home because my wife would kill me if I am late.
ReplyDelete“Honey is that you?” a voice coming for the bedroom.
“Yes baby, it’s me.”
“How was work?”
“It was the same,”
“So did you talk to her?”
“No”, it’s like she knows I want to talk to her, but she won’t let me.”
“Well baby take it slow,”
“Ok”
As I walk into the bedroom, I see a woman staring at me through my window. My wife screams, “That is Jazz!” Where has she been?” Our eyes met; but when I look back towards the window she was gone. I just wish we can help her.” I pray she will not be too afraid to accept our help.
“Honey, honey it time for you to go to work.” said Diego’s wife
“Ok sweetie 1’m leavening now off to work”
Check and Mate
ReplyDeleteBy Kristoffer Kizer
There he was on top of the world. Harry was in class and in his freshmen year in high school. He was rolling with a solid 4.0 GPA. He was one of the smartest people in the school. He has been like that since anyone could remember. He had his mind set to head off to NIU. His friend was wishing him luck me accept for the odd in the group Gino. Gino was different he was cool of course however he have always been on the wrong path and very jealous of Harry however Harry wanted to lend a hand to his buddy Gino. He was more determined than Curious George. The only thing he needed was a plan. As Harry maps out his great blue print thoughts the bus comes. The bus pulls up in front of Harry’s bus stop. Harry a boards the bus and when he was looking for a seat on the bus he notice a guy who had on a just do it t-shirt, an Chicago Bulls basketball shorts, an Chicago Bulls snapback, and I cleanly pair of Jordan’s. It was the guy himself the one and only Gino. Harry sits next to Gino and the two began to conversant.
“Bro you like my gear?”
“Whoa Gino! Don’t you get new outfits like everyday?” Harry curiosity asked.
“Ya nigga you already know!”
“How do you manage to pay for all your expensive items?” Harry curiously asked.
“Lets just say money is no problem for me.” Gino slyly said.
“Where do you get the money from?”
“My people give it to me.”
“Why?”
“Because I simply perform service around my neighbor my friend.” Gino stated Harry was puzzled of Gino’s language. Gino was just sitting back on the bus extremely relax and mellow as if he was in a daze.
It was time for school to start Harry and Gino exits the bus walking into their school. Harry and Gino’s locker was right next to each other.
“Bro I hate first hour!”
“Yeah I know what you mean Mr. Kizer can be harsh at times.” Mr. Kizer was Harry and Gino’s English teacher. He was walk in the park. They both enter English class and there he was a clean cut, beyond well dressed, and skinny man it was Mr. Kizer.
“Morning boys go ahead and have a seat.” Mr. Kizer said. The boys quickly took their seats and Mr. Kizer began to teach.
“Ok class today we are going to finsih To Kill A Mockingbird.” Mr. Kizer said as the class began to read to open their old, small, thick, and paperback books however Gino had other plans so; Gino checked his watch it said 8:00a.m. then he raised his hand Mr. Kizer spotted him.
“Yes Gino?”
“Yo sir can I go to the bathroom.”
“Yes hurry up.” quickly stated Mr. Kizer. Gino gets up from his seat and exits the classroom. Harry always watched Gino like a hungry hawk and he wasn’t about to let
Gino just excape from his sight. Besides Harry had a mission to complete and that exactly what he wanted to persue. Harry rasies his hand.
ReplyDelete“Yes Harry?” Mr. Kizer asked
“Can I go to the bathroom?” asked Harry. Mr Kizer looked deeply irrtated
“What! You better get back here in 15 minutes or you’ll be reading To Kill A Mockingbird until your eyes bleed, now do I make myself clear?” Mr. Kizer strongly stated.
“Yes.” Harry gets up out of his seat and exits the class. Harry checked all the bathrooms in the school trying to hunt down Gino. The only one Harry didn’t check was the farest bathroom in the school so, Harry rushes straight there and when he opened the door walked directly into the bathroom he was amazed at his new discovery. All his questions was truly answered. There lies a poor, lost, and helpless soul named Gino. He was now under a spell of evil and written all over his face were the words, SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME.
“G-Gino what’s going on?”
“Yo bro just chill I’m just closing a deal.” quickly replied Gino. As another student exits the bathroom loaded with a packet full of drugs.
“So that’s how you get you shoes, outfits, and etc. you sell drugs.” Harry was able to quickly put all the pieces to the puzzle.
“I ain’t gonna lie I be getting that money.” Gino proudly stated.
“Look Gino, you can't do this!”
“I can pretty much do what ever I’m pleased, I just can’t be stopped.”
“Be careful Gino, as smart as I am it won’t be that hard to stop you.”
“Hm by the end of the day we gonna find out how smart you truly are.” Gino slyly stated. Harry was once again puzzled by Gino language. It is as if he is speaking in code that Harry just can’t break. The two guys Harry and Gino just have a intense stare down.
“Well bro we better get back to class, I don’t have to miss anything.” Gino said with a smirk like a serial killer.
“Yeah we should get back to class but, this is far from over.”
“Oh your right this is only the beginning of a soon to be over war.” Gino slyly replied. The two boys exits the bathroom and was headed straight to class. Little did Harry realized that Harry opened his own personal gates of Hell. Gino and Harry arrived to class it was 8:43 class was almost over and Mr. Kizer looks pretty furious.
“Sorry I was gone longer then I thought.” Harry quickly said.
“I can promise you that won’t happen again, correct?” Mr. Kizer stated.
“Yo bro chill out we wasn’t gone that long.” Gino interrupted. Mr. Kizer looks directly at the two boys and said nothing. From that moment class was over. Gino and Harry was headed to their next classes. It was now 11:00 time for lunch. Harry received his lunch and sat down watching Gino across the lunchroom. Harry got up because he forgot his napkins and that point Gino jumped into action. While Harry was away Gino slipped some a large amount of what appears to be disguised as sugar into his soup and stirred it around. Now Gino wasn’t stupid he assembled a lookout group so he wouldn’t get caught. Meanwhile by the time Harry got back to the lunch table Gino was long gone. Gino sat right back down where he was. Harry kept his eye on Gino while watching Gino he was thirsty and drunk the soup. Lunch was over the two boys exits the lunchroom and heads go to class. It was now 2:15 school was over. Harry and Gino boards the bus. Harry
heads go to class. It was now 2:15 school was over. Harry and Gino boards the bus. Harry wasn’t really feeling to good his brain felt under attack. Gino glares and looks satisfied.
ReplyDelete“What’s wrong bro.” Gino asked as if he care.
“I-I don’t even know.”
“That’s to bad bro.” The bus stops at Harry’s stop and Gino wanted to help Harry get off the bus. Harry tries to walk home but his body and his mind had two separate minds. Gino got Harry home with no problem. Months have pasted and Harry’s grades have slipped, his mind couldn’t focus, college was no longer in his sight. Harry had no other option but, to drop out. It was a Friday afternoon and Gino exits the bus at Harry’s stop Gino stopped by Harry’s place. “Ding-Dong” a unstapled, dirty, lost boy answered it was indeed Harry. Gino enters the house in a jolly good mood the two talk
“Long time no see buddy.”
“Yeah… I know, school has gotten I don’t know harder.” Harry wasn’t really stable enough for a conversation so Gino had to get his confession.
“Look Harry I know you’re a little messed up, but next time you’ll stay out of my business.” slyly stated Gino.
“W-What are you talking about?”
“Lets just say I got very tired of you, and you was so determined to get involve with my business so, I had to take you out. I guess you wasn’t as smart was you thought.” That was the last statement Gino made. At that moment Gino exits Harry’s house. Harry’s brain could process what Gino just said. Now what Harry didn’t know was that Gino plays a lot of chess and he was extremely good. Harry will never truly know the impact Gino really had on him.
BA 11
ReplyDelete10:52 am
7/14/11
Carl “Clumsy” Cameron stood in front of the room, facing his class. His sweaty hands made it hard for him to open the folder, which contained his presentation. He dropped his folder and the class laughed.
Brrrrringgg! Brrrrinnngggg! ,the bell rang.
“Ok class,” Ms. Morgan said, having a giggle or two. “We’ll continue our presentations on Monday. We’ll start with you, Clumsy, I mean Carl. Be ready.”
Carl picked up his papers as the class filed out, intentionally stepping on him. When he finally got out of the school, he remembered it was time for his appointment. Maybe they forgot. I’ll try to get home before those buffoons realize it, He thought.
“ Yo, Clumsy. If you thought we forgot about you, then you must’ve been stupid enough to wait for us.” Jerome yelled. Suddenly, a barrage of punches came at Carl.
“Stop! Guys, get off of me!” Carl exclaimed. But the pain kept coming. Five minutes later, which seemed like five hours to Carl, Jerome and his goons stopped.
“Oh, thanks for living up to yo rep and dropping that folder. Now I have a whole weekend to do dat report!” With that, Jerome and his buds left Carl on the school grounds, crying in the grass.
Later on that evening, Carl was eating chicken at his house. His ma had to work late, his dad had died, his baby sister was asleep; so he was alone. And that was Carl’s problem. He felt alone everywhere he went: at home, in school, at church. He never felt like someone cared for him. As he went to clean his favorite dish, the one thing he held dear to him, he stepped on a dinosaur. The dish broke.
“Honey, I’m home,” Ma said. “How was your day?”
“Good.” He lied. He was thinking about today and how horrible it was and a little thought came into his head: Is living like this worth living at all?