Posted by Tedd V


I woke up to a loud bang that morning. I'd heard gunfire so many times before but something was different about that shot. Something left my spirit unsettled and I just couldn't go back to sleep. Normally there would be multiple gunshots, one after the other as rivals exchange fire trying to knock each other down, but this time it was just one shot. It sounded as though it was premeditated, calculated, decided and fatal. That's what made me restless. Joey was out that from the night before; it was 4 am and he hadn't come home. Being troublesome as he was, I couldn't help but fear that he was on the receiving end of that gunfire. I got up, put my clothes and shoes on then went outside to see what was happening. Since dad walked out on us, mom had been working 3 jobs to put food on the table and put us through school. Joey being the big brother felt that he should be able to help, so he started selling weed to make a little money to help with the expenses in the house. Mom didn't know about it, she thought he was working odd-jobs after school. For some reason I suspected that Joey had crossed the line and started selling crack, and that would have been the wrong move. Especially because the crack dealers had established territories and guarded them fiercely. I told my sisters to stay put and left them in their room as I went out to investigate.

As I walked through this valley of the shadow of death, I stumbled upon some stumbling blocks that were designed to keep young inner-city kids like me down. I stumbled upon weed, upon alcohol and upon some crack rock and I saw how an unguided child would do anything to belong to the flock. They say its hard out hear for a pimp, but who's going to tell my story, who's going to say its hard out here for me. I wish I could live in an area where yellow school buses abound, running the streets, picking up little kids and taking them to school. Instead, I live in the inner city, in the streets, where yellow police tape is constantly unwound, and police cruisers pick up kids and take them to the school of hard knocks.

As I tried to step over the crack pipe my foot landed on the used syringe. Luckily the sole on my shoe is thick, so the needle did not harm me. I had to walk past Mr Woo's candy store, right next door to Singh's Liquor store with the bullet proof glass. I took a turn into the alley for a short-cut, and half way down after passing the stench of urine at he entrance, I had to walk carefully so as to not step on the used condoms. I had to cover my eyes so I wouldn't see Mr Jacob's cheating on his wife with the prostitute from down the block. When I got to the other end of the alley I started jogging. My heart was racing; I could see Joey's corner but I couldn't see Joey. I started to run faster and I got there at the same time as the police cruiser. There he was, lying face down in his own blood. My brother who'd been taking care of my sisters and I since the day daddy left.

That crack pipe I stepped over looked real good to me at that moment. I could have used a line cocaine, that would have done the trick. Or maybe a nice fat blunt to take away the blunt-force trauma on my spirit. I'd felt pain before, but none of it compared to the harrowing I felt on my soul that day. Sometimes I hurt. No matter what I try to ease the pain with, nothing is strong enough to take the hurt away. No amount of beer will ever be able to drown these sorrows. I felt like I had just woken up in a cold sweat on a hot night, with nothing but blinding darkness surrounding me and nothing but silent cries to scream out into the depth of this ear-less space that tries tirelessly to sooth my shivering soul. The police officer knew Joey and he knew me too. At the very moment I felt myself getting weak, he walked up to me and said, "Hold on son, be strong. You'll pull through."

That morning I became a man; I wanted to cry but sometimes crying doesn't help. I let out silent screams that were amplified and echoed by the walls of oppression that pressed tight against me. That silence, to me sounded louder than the bang you hear when you finally hit the floor of a bottomless pit. I asked myself, "Why me? Why does it rain when I have no umbrella? Why does it get cold when I have no sweater? Why does the power always go out when I have no candles?
Why am I the motherless child that I am? She has to work 3 jobs just so she can make up for whats lacking at home. A father. As she tries to make up for that she deprives me from what's needed at home. A mother.

Just then Joey's friend Leroy walked up to me, put his hand on my back and said, "It's a hard knock life kiddo. Just let me know if there's anything I can do for you." He looked me in the eye as he said that, and walked away. Just like daddy did when he walked away from us. I felt an anger overcoming me. I'd never wished bad on anyone, but that morning I wished it on my own father. I wished he'd wake up one day with his tear ducts sealed shut, with nothing but time on his hands and onions to cut. I wished he'd have migraines every time he'd think, I wished he'd have nightmares every time he blinked. I wished he'd choke on 40oz of his children's tears, I wished his tongue would bleed every time he'd drink a beer. I wish his life turns out to be somebody else's dream, and they wake up the moment he wins the lottery. I wish the earth would fall from beneath his feet, and no one would be there to hear him but me. And on that day I would have smoked the biggest blunt just to ease away the pain he caused me because sometimes I hurt.
abstract by Tedd V.
Last paragraph inspired by Lizz Straight