A True Story of the Streets
Getting up took some doing but the smell of food pulled me out of bed and got me into the shower. Letting the hot water streak on my back felt soothing but the smell of breakfast cooking on the stove was still lingering in my nostrils. Getting out, I almost slipped on the wet porcelain. When I walked into the kitchen I was greeted by my Nana and my Mother. I remember as I sat down, the phone rang. I picked it up and one of my best homies tells me to come on by to his house. I told him that I would be there in about half an hour. I ate as fast as manners would allow and ran back to my room. Pulling on my beyond baggy light blue pants and my extra large black shirt I walked out of my room. Kissing my Nana and my Mother goodbye I stepped out into the street.
Walking left toward Grande I caught the bus to the Southside. Walking a few blocks I turned into his yard and knocked on the door. He came on about the third knock and let me in.
"What up, holmes?" I said.
"Not much," he said.
"Come to my room."
When we got to his room he pulled out eighty dollars and he gave me forty.
"What is this for?" I asked.
He suggested we go to the store.
As we walked down the street we came across some people who were arguing and pushing each other around.
"The hell with that, let's cut through the alley."
I agreed gladly. We cut right and started going through the alley when a gunshot rang in our ears. We heard yells coming from the left of us and we started to run. Boom, boom, boom. Turning the corner I stopped and looked around. My friend was nowhere. I went back around the corner and to my horror my homie was lying in a pool of blood. I ran to him and held his limp head in my arms. He was choking on his own blood as I was telling him everything was going to be cool. Not to worry. Then I saw his eyes look into mine and I heard his last breath come from his mouth. I sat there motionless, not knowing what to do. After about a minute I let his head fall from my arms and I walked away. The strange thing was, through all of this, I never cried. I made an anonymous call to the police. They never found out who killed him and they never found out that I was there. No one has.