The Messanger

On the Horizon

My name is Stephen Maxwell, I am twenty three years old and I have no family by my side. I was born in Eastpointe Detroit on December Eight nineteen eighty two. I was raised by my uncle Jason Maxwell until I was the age of fourteen. I never knew who my parents were and my uncle was killed in a drive by shooting meant for his neighbor.

When my uncle died, no one was willing to raise me and take me in due to all the death that occurred around me. Most people would look at me in a disgusted yet cautious way and I could do nothing but act like I don't see them. My family history is known for having gruesome deaths and gang members that made eastpointe so infamous.

Since I had nobody to take me in, I had built a small shelter inside an abandoned building. I was able to gather enough materials to make a bed for me to sleep on. It would be tough sleeping at night, I would always wake up to roaches crawling on me or the sound of rats fighting in the walls. There would be times where I wouldn't sleep for days because of my mental health problems. It would get so bad to the point where I'd see the spirit of my uncle just watching me from a corner but not do or say anything.

I was able to stay in the abandoned building for a few months until a police officer saw me while he was patrolling the neighborhood. At first he assumed that I was another gang member and had his gun drawn at me. He had a bright flashlight in my face and it was almost blinding so I covered my face while he was screaming for my hands. My skullie fell off my head and it was a black one as well. The officer saw the skullie and assumed it was a gun or some weapon. [ POW POW POW POW] I think I'm dead....