Humor - Captured by your voices
They (bullets) Have No Names - Captured by your voices
Human Trafficking - Captured by your voices
Fear and Anxiety - Captured by your voices
A Day in Paradise - Captured by your voices
You are writing for yourselves and writing for others. Your voices are capturing the universality of who we are and what we need to pay attention to.
I was so impressed by the words and reading of Brother Author Armand. His voice and text will stay with me forever.
Other BAs are providing smooth descriptors that ease you into their stories.
Elie Wiesel stated
When human lives are endangered, when human dignity is in jeopardy, national borders and sensitivities become irrelevant. Wherever men and women are persecuted because of their race, religion, or political views, that place must - at that moment - become the center of the universe.
Thanks for placing your voices at the center of so many issues.
Post you completed short stories here today.
15 comments:
The Gap
Nearly every day since he’s been here – hardly about four months now – Louis wondered if it really was a good idea to come here, if it was right to even have Yale on his college list. At the time, it seemed like a grand idea: he had received his acceptance letter and his parents had thrown the largest party he had ever witnessed, even bigger than their wedding renewal. All of his related family members, his friends, even his coach from seventh grade who always encouraged him to aim high had arrived, and they all gave him presents. He had never felt so happy in his life: he had finally achieved his high school dream of being accepted to a good college, and he actually had the money to get there, thanks to long hours of researching scholarships and receiving grants. Louis leaned back in his chair and glanced at his watch, the one his dad passed to him while they were driving to Conneticut, and saw that it read Mon, 11:06 P.M.
He rubbed his eyes and looked back to his 1 ½ page essay, which needed to be at least three pages longer if Professor Langues was going to accept it. Louis was completely blank. He had already asked his friends for ideas on discussing the federal minimum wage, and they only had so much to offer. Louis put his elbows on the table and dropped his face into his hands. He didn’t know what to do now. His representative from the Affirmative Action Plan told him to aim for the highest colleges he could go, and Louis gladly followed his words and made a bold advance for Yale University; however, now that he was already failing one course and dangerously close to failing yet two others, he wondered if it were advantageous to have just gone to another college, one that had less of a workload. His professors were sincere, but the class work alone was far more than Louis felt he could handle, not to mention the homework keeping him up late at night. He absentmindedly typed in whatever came to mind about ways to change the wage, then closed his laptop. If he couldn’t get a couple more pages in by Wednesday, he’d just have to beg the professor to at least give him late credit. Louis groaned; this was happening far too often, and he didn’t know how long his teachers were willing to put up with it.
The Gap cont'd
“Get anything done?” Janice asked, her head slightly cocked to the side.
Louis lazily lifted his head and rubbed his eyes, then looked across the lunch table. “A page and some. You?” He answered, and he wasn’t surprised when she grimaced and shrugged. “Nothin’ too? Well, I’d give you a high five, now that I’m assured I’m not the only one, but I need the energy to get back to the Science room.” He managed to put a small smirk on his face, and Janice lit up with her infamous bright smile before laughing. Louis didn’t know how, but just seeing that look gave him some energy for the day.
“All night long, I just couldn’t think of what to put down. It seemed so easy back in high school, but now the professors want evidence on top of evidence that’s already mixed in with evidence.” Janice said, absentmindedly twirling her spaghetti with a fork.
Louis huffed. “Man, I didn’t even know college would be this hard. All I was told was that I do my homework, pay attention in class, have fun each night, and I’d get through in no time. Now, we’re both trying to do that, but both fun and success are light years away.”
Janice’s shoulders dropped. “Well, it’s not like I really have an option to fail. My folks told me as soon as I got the letter that I would stand to represent all the blacks out there who tried and failed to make it into law, so I’d have to bust my butt.”
“Didn’t Professor Langues say something about that? About percentages of passing law students or something like that?”
“He sure did.” Janice and Louis turned to Sven, who placed his lunch on the table and then slightly leaned, mimicking Professor Langues old voice. “’ Ahem, students. Take care to realize that there are twenty of you in here, and according to these statistics,” Sven waived an imaginary paper in the air, “only thirteen of you will pass the bar exam on the first try. Sixteen of you will eventually pass it.’”
“He was looking right at us as he said it too, like he expected us to fail,” Janice mumbled, now poking her peas on the plate.
The table then fell silent, each student in his or her own thought. Louis thought back to his grades. He didn’t want to admit it, but it seemed that Professor Langues was right in looking at them. All three of them were either close to or already failing his class, and Louis had even approached Professor Langues two weeks ago to ask about his future in the professor’s class and whether he would be able to pass it. The professor didn’t say much at the time, but the next day he handed Louis a list of other colleges that had law classes, and then lectured on the Affirmative Action Plan and whether or not it was indeed beneficial to the ethnicities it claimed to have supported. Louis could still feel those slips of paper in his backpack. He only took a glance at them, but perhaps it was time to actually look through them and consider alternatives to Yale.
He gave a long sigh, and Janice looked up to him with a slight frown on her face. Louis answered with a sigh and a shrug. If he actually decided to give up on Yale and go somewhere else, he’d make sure to tell his friends about it first and see if he really was making the right decision. He’d given Yale too much effort and too many chances for his grades to turn around, and now was high time to consider if it was worth staying at a prestigious school or trying his luck elsewhere.
The Hole
By Diwani Greenwell
Rocky walked out the door with a sense of accomplishment that day, I finally get to go to the Hole he thought to himself. Rocky was a rather short boy with braids in his head, wearing a loose white t-shirt. The Hole was a place where all the “cool” kids hung out, including his best friend, Poohder. Rocky didn’t usually get to go to The Hole, but for some reason today was different. His mom was going to be at work all-day working her first shift at the mini-mart, then working a second shift, at the Diner. But before Rocky went over to the Hole, he stopped by his friend Johnny’s house to pick him up. Johnny was a very tall kid for his age; he had a bad lisp, wearing a multi colored t-shirt.
“Ok here’s the game plan Rakeem,” said Johnny.
“Didn’t I tell you not to call me that, my name is rocky not Rakeem.”
• “OK, ok I forgot but lets start walking before it gets to late.”
As the two walked down the street there was a since of silence because neither of them knew what to expect when they got there. As they hopped the fence they dropped down into an area under an enormous bridge. As they walked in they saw about ten or twelve people from their school; some were in eighth grade and some kids were in seventh. But Johnny and Rocky were bewildered when they got a whiff of something foreign that made them have butterflies in their stomachs.
“You want a hit,” said the kid in the black and white shirt.
Johnny took that offer up real quick.
“What about you, Rocky.”
Rocky stopped and thought for a minute. He looked over to his friend Poohder who was slipping in and out of a trans. Everybody is doing it, why should I be excluded he thought to himself. Before Rocky could say goodbye to anyone, he turned around and started walking back toward his house. Rocky remembered his mom’s golden words that had always kept him away from temptations. “Don’t huff, don’t puff. Keep away from that stuff.” As Rocky walked in his house door he had the same sense of accomplishment that he walked out the door with earlier that day.
Strenghth
My mother always said I was a survivor. There I was standing on the Subway in the heart of downtown Chicago. I was on the Jackson stop at the Red Line train. No matter where I was I could never muster enough courage to feel like I had a sense of belonging. I always felt this growing urge to die that constantly seeps in and runs it sharp fingernails across my throat. I always planned the way I thought I should die. The methadone couldn’t finish me. My family thought I was a step away from creating a mass murder that would result in my spirit being banished. In reality, I just wanted to end my existence. The football players at my high school were the worst. When I went to school, they beat me with stainless steel pipes and threw me in garbage cans. Have you ever got six of your ribs broken and seven stitches in your eyelid?
As the train grew closer, I walked up towards the tracks. I could see my blood splattered and my limbs ravaged. I could die in front of all these people and be content. If I jumped in front of the oncoming train, would they finally notice me? A short woman watching me said, “I was there too…Don’t give up on life until life gives up on you." Without uttering a word- I showed her me. I showed her the stitches in my eyelid, the bruise marks from my cracked ribs above my waist, and the cigar burns my father mistakenly placed onto my skin. As I begin to pull the left sleeve up on my shirt to show her the rest, she stopped me.
She lit a cigarette and told me, "Listen kid, you're still beautiful no matter what... I've been in your shoes. I had my share of the cigar burns and bruises but I made it through and I know in my heart you can too."
"You don’t understand", I said. "Nobody could understand the way I feel."
As she flicked her cigarette onto the train tracks, she walked closer to me and she hugged me. As I hugged her I realized that this is the closest I have ever been with another human. We hugged until the train moved swiftly passed the terminal. As the train passed, our mouths didn’t emit sound but our bodies did. I could hear both of our hearts locking on to the same beat at the same rate. As my tears trickled down my face on to the hard pavement, she wiped my eyes.
The Failing Words
The church pews are daunting things, like comfortable firing blocks. Carved images of the holy trinity glared at me as my family and I walked towards the pulpit. Normally, I hate dressing formally for any occasion. Not being able to move my head more than 45 degrees becomes aggravating, but whatever my mother said looked good for God, was good enough for me. If he was real I would ask him why I couldn’t just wear cargo shorts and a polo for him, considering all he wore was a toga. We took our place in the front row as Pastor Hapke stood at the altar, greeting the families as they walked through the entrance. He seemed distraught over something, he’s usually much more flagrant and chipper, but I had a feeling something wasn’t settling well with him.
Everyone took their seats. There was an eerie silence resting over everyone once Pastor Hapke acknowledges the crowd. He’s uncomfortable attitude radiated over everyone. I could see how they all looked so worried for him. I never understood how so many people could relate to one man so accurately, however he felt, they felt. Whatever he felt, they felt. He lifted his head.
“Today, I will not talk to you as a pastor, but as a friend in need. We are a close knit group, and no secrets should be kept between us, especially ones so damaging. I know many of you will ostracize me as a monster—or much worse because of my decision. I hope many of you will look past this, not as a disease, but a new beginning. But, I’m stepping down from my position as pastor of thus church because I am gay. I can’t be dishonest with myself any more, and I hope you accept me as I am.”
You could feel the air being lifted out of the room, replaced with hatred and disgust. There were several gasps from the women in the crowd, the gossip itching up their throats. Many families began to shield their children and walk out. Looks of sheer disgust carpeted their faces, rough and tarnished. Their glares were enough make Pastor Hapke feel alienated. Now, everyone rose from their seats and walked toward the exit. No one looked in the Pastor’s direction, as if their irises would be charred black. The pews began to empty, people hit the doorway like brass hitting the concrete. Metallic pangs rang through the church, as the pastor walked to his quarters to avoid the gun fire.
“Come on Jackson, we’re leaving too.”
My mom sneered as she rose with her purse clenched against her side. Her and my sister began to walk down the aisle, but I wanted to stay. I wanted to know what caused Hapke to come out like that, especially if he knew the consequences. I told my mom I’d meet them back at home, I wanted to make sure he was ok. I could tell they didn’t approve, but their approval wasn’t important to me anymore. If they believed abandoning him would solve their problem was the right thing to do, returning the favor sounded good to me.
The Failing Words (cont)
I knocked on the door to Hapke’s office. The gold placard on his door was gone. I entered to see him limping over his desk, obviously crying. His shelves were cleaned out, no more pictures of him and members of the congregation, his robes hung neatly in a closet to in the far left corner of the room. The office smelled of deep mahogany, and everything had a bright sheen to it. I’d never seen it so bare.
“Pastor, is everything ok?”
He glared up at me, with his bloodshot eyes and clear snot running down his philtrum.
“Well, that’s a dumb thing to ask isn’t it? Try coming out to the entire congregation and have them abandon you right at the beginning of service. Please, be my guest.”
“Please, Pastor, that’s not what I was trying to get at.”
“Call me Carson, I don’t need that title following me around anymore.”
“You know, the funny part about this whole thing is that I knew they were going to react like that. I expected it to happen. Being ostracized by the people you consider your closest friends—some even like family to me, it’s amazing how easy it is to sever the strings that we’re all connected by. I never understood how damaging words could be. Even though they might be meant to help and encourage.
“But, if you knew they weren’t going to like it, why did you say it? Doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose?”
The pastor snickered, “You’re going to learn, honesty is not for the simple minded and light hearted. People won’t like it, but that doesn’t mean you’re not going to say it. I’ve been too obsessed with pleasing others that I forgot about myself, I got lost in the minds of others that coming back to mine was too foreign. I not only had to be honest with them, but myself.”
The pastor stood up from his chair, “ I think it’s time for us to get going, your mother must be concerned that you’re talking to me right now.”
“No! I have one last question. How should I go about telling my mom about this?”
The pastor stiffened, and stared directly at me. He looked more excited about this than he should have.
“If your mother has the ability to understand that you’re her son, and you deserve all of her love, you will be fine. But, I understand your fear, and I wish I could say it will all be ok, but that isn’t a certainty. I wish you the very best.”
Human Trafficking
I take another sip of the dirt water. Mom locked the blue, rundown door on me again, which is what she does every night, cabron, leaving me on the streets, but that’s OK because when I’m older jo voy a America and will never come back Mexico. Bad things happen on these streets. Guns blasting, I go in the trashcan for cover as I usally do. This is my life. Is this is my place, though. Tan loco, this can’t be all there is, death and violence, this is not right. But here I am listening to bullets as a god dam song. Then I hear the trash can open and a man and tells me “get out puto, your coming with me.” I cry. I scream, no one comes, no one hear, no one helps in my time of need. No cares in Mexico. I’m alone, all alone. I refuse to go but that’s all I can remember when I was knocked out by the handle of a gun.
I wake up to eggs and ham but I don’t want food today. I’m in a small cell that is really uncomfortable but I don’t have a choice. Esto esta stupido. I ask the guards to take me home but they don’t. I call my mom but she doesn’t come. I get tired and sleep, thinking of the worst that can happen. I scream, ”Dios me ayude, ayudame.” There’s a window that I look through seeing the sun go down, orange, red, purple then black as night comes, until they come for me and put me in a room with a man. He’s wearing a purple suit, white shirt and off course a purple tie.
After awhile the big man began, “You can blame your mom for this BOY. She didn’t pay me so I took you. The girls will love you, your what they call...a pretty boy, OK kid.”
“Who are you senor,” I ask.
“I’m your worst nightmare, kid, and your boss so I want you to have sex with the women we give and make their money worth it,” he ordered.
“What is sex sir,” I question.
You idiots didn’t show him the movie, uhhh never mind give him to Chicara she’ll teach him everything.”
We leave the room going to a bedroom, with a drunk women on it
.
“Lo guapo, I’m going to have fun tonight,” she says.
“What do you want,” I say.
“Quiero que esta noche,” she said with a vile laugh.
“What should I do,” I asked.
She told me things that I wish I didn’t hear. She showed me what to do and I did. I did them to survive. I did it for my life. When done they put me in a grand cell with other boys.
“Hi there I’m Pedro,” a boy explained.
“Hi. You like pineapple I have some and I don’t like it at all.”
“Jo gusto mucho and I have some apples I could trade you.”
That is what we did every day for days, weeks, months, and years. Pedro became my best friend there. We lived there for ten years, made friends, then one day my friend Pedro and me made a escape, with food, two guns and a grenade. This is when things went wrong. Pedro was hit in the head with a bullet. This angered me to the worst measures. I put the AK -47 on my back took the Desert Eagle from Pedro dead grip while I looked in his bright blue eyes and closed them myself. That day changed my life as I killed the men who put a gun to my head, who forced me to have sex with women who disgusted me, the men who laugh at me cry every night. How dare they. Joder them all. There all dead. Every person involving my pain from this god damn cursed place is dead. The boss, his men, all of them are now dead,6 feet under. Now what do I do? Every one is freed and they run while I watch them. But now what do I do. Pedro is buried. Now what do I do then? I walk here and there. I eat now and then. I don’t do shit except wait for death to take me. Living life the best I can. I go to America tasting freedom on my lips. I smile on it all now with a good job, family and friends. Now this is my story. This is my life. This is where I belong.
Strength
My mother always said I was a survivor. There I was standing on the Subway in the heart of downtown Chicago. I was on the Jackson stop at the Red Line train. No matter where I was I could never muster enough courage to feel like I had a sense of belonging. I always felt this growing urge to die that constantly seeps in and runs it sharp fingernails across my throat. I always planned the way I thought I should die. The methadone couldn’t finish me. My family thought I was a step away from creating a mass murder that would result in my spirit being banished. In reality, I just wanted to end my existence. The football players at my high school were the worst. When I went to school, they beat me with stainless steel pipes and threw me in garbage cans. Have you ever got six of your ribs broken and seven stitches in your eyelid?
As the train grew closer, I walked up towards the tracks. I could see my blood splattered and my limbs ravaged. I could die in front of all these people and be content. If I jumped in front of the oncoming train, would they finally notice me? A short woman watching me said, “I was there too…Don’t give up on life until life gives up on you." Without uttering a word- I showed her me-the stitches in my eyelid, the bruise marks from my cracked ribs above my waist, and the cigar burns my father mistakenly placed onto my skin. As I begin to pull the left sleeve up on my shirt to show her the rest, she stopped me.
She lit a cigarette and told me, "Listen kid, you're still beautiful no matter what... I've been in your shoes. I had my share of the cigar burns and bruises but I made it through and I know in my heart you can too."
"You don’t understand", I said. "Nobody could understand the way I feel."
As she flicked her cigarette onto the train tracks, she walked closer to me and she hugged me. As I hugged her I realized that this is the closest I have ever been with another human. We hugged until the train moved swiftly passed the terminal. As the train passed, our mouths didn’t emit sound but our bodies did. I could hear both of our hearts locking on to the same beat at the same rate. As my tears trickled down my face on to the hard pavement, she wiped my eyes.
Unexpected Soul
Corey Ellis
I was 28 years old when I first met my mother. It was at the baptismal of my niece and nephew. But let me go back to where it all began Cook County Hospital. My mom and dad had me a beautiful chubby, nine pound, tight hand squeezing baby boy. My dad called everyone crying about how much he wanted a boy and that the lord had blessed me coming into this world. After a couple of days in that small crib they keep babies in I was ready to go, plus I got tired of hearing other chubby babies cry. My dad got off work early; seeing that he was the C.E.O of a leading computer company he could call off when ever. My dad arrived, at the hospital with the look of man who’s life is about to change forever. My dad was so eager to hold his little boy he didn’t even wait on the elevator he took the stairs, skipping stair after stair until he got to me. He got into the room to find a nurse holding me with a weary expression on her face.
“Where’s my wife? Oh I take it she must be in the bathroom freshening up.”
“Sir I’m sorry to inform you but your wife is not here.”
“Right she’s in the bathroom or something getting ready to leave.”
”No, Mr. Williamson your wife checked herself out the hospital 3 hours ago.”
If I could talk I would of said, “Well where the hell did she go?” My dad took me from the nurse but, when he took me he had two identities to fill now.
A Lost Tassel
Jeremy fidgeted in his seat, hands gripping his speech essay. The movement caused the tassel at his right to dance, sending its strips jumping up and down. Jeremy was way too excited to sit still; after all, out of 517 seniors, he was the chosen one to honor this moment that would last each and every one of his peers a lifetime. He knew he deserved some sort of award, some kind of recognition for maintaining the 3.6 GPA from sophomore to senior year, as well as scoring a 31 on the ACT, but he thought that he would only be getting up to receive his NHS award, and again to receive his diploma, but the honor of speaking for the entire graduating class was almost a bit too much to bear. He was just very glad that he was given the chance to speak for all of his peers.
‘Well,’ Jeremy thought, ‘most of my peers.’ Jeremy glanced down to the seat at his left, where his good friend Job should’ve been sitting. Instead, there was Yolanda, sitting there with her smug smile, the mascara and lipstick thick on her face as she held all of her awards throughout their high school years. Jeremy wished Job had turned down the offer to go modeling and stayed with his friends. Job had become somewhat of a model celebrity during the summer before senior year, and it didn’t surprise Jeremy when Job’s time as a model started to interfere, even at only the slightest, with Job’s time at school. When he announced that his manager wanted him to leave for a model viewing in New York, Jeremy told Job that he was happy for him, though he inwardly felt envious that Job was getting these chances in life instead of him. When Job told him over Facebook that he was dropping out so he could take his modeling career full time, Jeremy was mad that Job was going to get thousands of dollars for simply looking the way he did while Jeremy worked hard throughout his life and was still trying to find enough money to head off to college. He was so mad that he didn’t care that Job was tossing his chance for his high school diploma away, didn’t care that Job wouldn’t be beside him when graduation came – all Jeremy was concerned with was that Job got his dream to come true, while Jeremy was still trying to just make his within reach. Jeremy had logged off Facebook that night – not before noticing that, within two minutes, Job’s post had received 47 likes – and didn’t answer his friend’s calls. When Job came to his house on Saturday, Jeremy made snide comments about how Job wouldn’t know how it felt to walk across a stage to receive a diploma, leading to a brief but serious argument between the two friends, ending with Job slamming the door and leaving for New York without as much as a “Goodbye” to his old friend.
Jeremy now looked up to the principal as he continued his speech about hard work and ethics. Jeremy shook his head, as if erasing those sad thoughts from his mind. ‘I’m sorry, Job,’ Jeremy thought sadly, “I’m sorry for not being a better friend.”
As the principal now beckoned for Jeremy to stand up, cheers rang to the heavens as students, teachers, and parents jumped to their feet. Jeremy’s friends were making quite a scene, stomping the ground and yelling “Je. Je, Jeremy! Je, Je, Jeremy!” The crowd started copying his friends, and soon the very walls seemed to be shouting his name. Jeremy thought that the moment was nice, but it definitely would’ve been better if he had his practical brother there shouting with the rest of them.
Jeremy gave the principal a bright smile, but inside he was melting. He remembered that he had included in his speech that 13 of them weren’t graduating from Sunwood High School: most had transferred, two died from gun violence, and three had failed courses. Jeremy knew that this was likely to happen, but he felt a stab of guilt, and he thought of Job as he placed his speech essay on the podium.
They dont have names pt2
“Hey look there goes Gene get him,”
“Gene said why y’all want me? I didn’t do anything to you guys.”
“Remember those kids you shot?”
“Yeah I feel real sorry for that. I feel y’all pain and I’m sorry.”
“You don’t know how we feel, having to watch our little brother and sister in a hospital bed suffering”.
“Well y’all got lucky. Because I had to watch my little sister suffer, and the worst part of all my trouble and pain was that my little sister died so y’all are lucky”
“Man that don’t mean you go killing and hurting other people siblings just because someone hurt yours. You are supposed to learn and help prevent someone else from getting hurt.”
“Well I was not thinking like that. I was thinking revenge like you guys are right now.”
“Well you right but we were just going to rough you up and figure out why you cause all your trouble. But we wanted to make sure there were no guns at all so we won’t be in the same situation as you.”
“Well do what you gone do?”
Gene turned around expecting the worse to happen to him. But he heard foot steps as they got quieter every step. Gene turned around again and no one was there.
“Hey look there goes Gene get him,”
“Gene said why y’all want me? I didn’t do anything to you guys.”
“Remember those kids you shot?”
“Yeah I feel real sorry for that. I feel y’all pain and I’m sorry.”
“You don’t know how we feel, having to watch our little brother and sister in a hospital bed suffering”.
“Well y’all got lucky. Because I had to watch my little sister suffer, and the worst part of all my trouble and pain was that my little sister died so y’all are lucky”
“Man that don’t mean you go killing and hurting other people siblings just because someone hurt yours. You are supposed to learn and help prevent someone else from getting hurt.”
“Well I was not thinking like that. I was thinking revenge like you guys are right now.”
“Well you right but we were just going to rough you up and figure out why you cause all your trouble. But we wanted to make sure there were no guns at all so we won’t be in the same situation as you.”
“Well do what you gone do?”
Gene turned around expecting the worse to happen to him. But he heard foot steps as they got quieter every step. Gene turned around again and no one was there.
We turned the corner going east and there were two people walking out way. Both had black hoodies on, dreadlocks and beige cargo shorts with black and white Nikes. What a couple! They stood at least six inches taller than me. They way they walked towards us and the way they looked at us said they were on dirt. Something deep inside me was pulling me away from the group, my heart was pumping and I began to sweat. I stopped and bent down to pretend like I was tying my shoe while the rest of the group walked ahead. My shoe was untied so I guess I had no choice. Before I pulled both bunny loops, I heard “What’s up then?!” I looked and the fight was on. It was a four on two and I just watched. Long and short lanky arms swinging wildly at each other, some missing, some, making direct contact to the face and body-an uncoordinated boxing match. I ran to help knowing that what I was about to do was heroic but would take a lot of heart and guts to do. My Uncle Henry gave me a pocketknife for my birthday. I don’t remember the type of knife it was I just remember it was a double 3 inch blade. I’d kept it in my back pocket. I reached into my pocket to pull it out until I was struck on the side of my head by a flying elbow. I was more shocked than hurt, but only for a split second. I woke up on the ground, to a couple of paramedics staring at me. The fear that I might have been dead left their eyes immediately and they asked me a couple of questions. I followed a finger and stood up and walked in a straight line. The paramedics told me to stand by the ambulance and they walked off to a body lying on the concrete ground. Cargo shorts, black hoodie, had one of them been knocked out too?
I turned my head and surprised to three CPD squad cars randomly awkwardly parked on the sidewalk. Derrick, Justin, Sean, and Charles were all in handcuffs with their head down in shame. A police officer noticed me and walked over. He asked me if I was ok and I told him yes. He told me to stand up and turn around, I did. I felt cold, hard metal cuff lock my hands together behind my back. He told me my Miranda rights and I was joined along side my friends leaning up against the squad car with my head down in shame too.
Again, there I was in juvenile detention. Sentenced to two months for helping beat a kid to death, when I had no contact with anyone except for me being knocked out. There wasn’t enough evidence to show who delivered the deathblow. We were lucky. It wasn’t until the fifth week when I realized what had happened. I was at the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong people, like always. I would have never thought that just being with the wrong people could have such big consequences. All those times my mom told me and I never listened, “Birds of a feather flock together,” shed say. There we were- flocked together in juvenile detention.
“When I grow up I want go to the NBA and be like mike,” my brother told me. “Good luck with that, you have a small chance to even shoot a ball on a NBA court. Just think about it the smaller you are your chances of getting in is even smaller unless you start dunking on people,” I told him. I really think he should take school as a priority instead of using it to get girls phone numbers and be on every sports team. But, now that I think of it a woman don’t like a man that can’t even count his own money. I’m planning to go to University of Michigan and major in astronomy no matter what the graduating percentage is for blacks. 68% is that number and that number will never let me off my game. What my brother really needs to know is that .0015% is his chances of getting into the big leagues and 33.1% is his chances of graduating from college.
Even still, you can be in the NBA for so long at the age of 40. What are you suppose to do with the other 50 or 60 years of your life? Sit there on a worn out couch and watch the young bucks play. When you could have gone to college and was able to be home with a degree, wife, kids, put food on the table, and keeps bills paid. The greater the degree the more money coming into your hands for your purpose. I can see it now in the newspaper “Jabari Harrell the worlds most accomplished African American astronomer,” in exciting quotes. Instead of turning on the TV and hearing the same old sports channel for the game-to-game updates.
It’s less African American students not in school to learn but instead they are out there selling drugs, sleep at home, or some other reason. I don’t believe us as black people can sit here and do bad all by ourselves. We can do better than anybody else around us if most blacks can put their minds into a good book and lesson. Even if we had the families to encourage kids to stay in school and tell their kids that the sky is the limit on what they can look forward to. We didn’t have MLK march 300,000 people for the freedom of equal rights between blacks and whites and any other race to now break laws, have the most in prison, drop out of school, and be so irresponsible.
I don’t mean all of us are doing it; most of us are doing it because they think it’s cool to sag their pants and don’t even know what it means and have sex all the time when they see a pretty woman. There are many women out there and most of them are in school making sure they can move forward in life. Not just that they are pretty and intelligent with bachelors or even masters marked on the side of their name. School is very important on succeeding in life and blacks need to know this if they don’t want to be under everyone anymore.
By Jabari Harrell
They Don’t Have Names part 1
This disaster stated two weeks ago on a Friday night when Gene and his little sister, Gina, were at West Park around their aunt house. Gene was a kid that wore black and gray, Gene enjoys terrorizing and stealing. On the other hand, Gina was a sweet girl who wore light colors pink, green, and yellow. She communicated well with others and get along with almost everyone she knows.... Gene and Gina were going back to their aunt house and some guys wearing black and red had rolled up in a car and saw what Gene had on. The guys said, “Aye, lil cuz who you rolling with?” Gene said, “You see the colors don’t you?” The next thing you know Gene and his aunt were devastated and stressed.
Later that night, Gene prayed for his sister to be okay as he planned to go the hospital to visit her in the morning. Gina was in a tough spot. Gina got shot once in her chest and she went into a deep coma. When Gene got to the hospital the doctor said, “Gene I got some bad news for you.” Gene had a tear coming down his face and he asked. “What Doc?” The doctor said. “Gina past during the surgery, I’m sorry.” Gene said. “Don’t tell me nothing man.” Gene broke down in tears wondering how he was going to tell his family. But Gene had a plan that would make him feel better and something his sister would want him to do.
When Gene got home from the hospital everyone was crying. Gene mother came up to him and said. “This is your fault hanging with them low down dirty no life having bums,” Gene Said. “How could this be my fault?” With a loud and angry voice! Gene mother said. “I don’t understand you. You just don’t get it do you. You know what. Just get out my house, don’t comeback at all. Gene said. No momma no. I need you please don’t do this to me please momma. Gene mother said when you clean your act up you could come back.
Later that night Gene didn’t care anymore. Revenge was on his mind. So he went back to West Park with four of his brothers. He verified who killed his sister and shot at them, he missed. Instead, he heard loud screams. He closed his eyes for a moment to think, he did not know what happen. Until he seen a crowd forming around a couple of children. There were lots of witnesses at the park that night. Everyone described Gene to the police. While Gene was walking to his buddy house he was thinking. Why? Gene thought to himself thinking about another way he could have got revenge. He didn’t want to hurt innocent people like his sister, but there was only two ways, it was to kill or snitch and Gene did not want to snitch because he didn’t want to look like a coward to his homies. The Guilt started to eat him alive and he started feeling like he was one of the guys that killed his little sister.
They don’t have names part 2
One week later, Gene was terrified and scared of what was going to happen to him. So he was always watching his back. The day Gene was trying to avoid finally had come.
“Hey look there goes Gene get him.”
“Why y’all want me? I didn’t do anything to you guys.”
“Remember those kids?”
“Yeah, I feel real sorry for that. I feel y’all pain and I’m sorry.”
“You don’t know how we feel, having to watch our little brother and sister in a hospital bed suffering.”
“Well y’all got lucky. Because I had to watch my little sister suffer, and the worst part of all my trouble and pain was that my little sister died so y’all are lucky”
“Man that don’t mean you go killing and hurting other people siblings just because someone hurt yours. You are supposed to learn and help prevent someone else from getting hurt.”
“Well I was not thinking like that. I was thinking revenge like you guys are right now.”
“Well, you right but we were just going to rough you up and figure out why you cause all your trouble. But we wanted to make sure there were no guns at all so we won’t be in the same situation as you.”
“Well, what you gonna do?”
Gene turned around expecting the worse to happen to him. But he heard foot steps as they got quieter every step. Gene turned around again and no one was there.
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