Dreams • short Eazy E fan fic [Completed]

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If you scared to take chances, you'll never have the answers – Nas

"From a brother who's smooth like a criminal

I mean subliminalOtherwise known as a villain"

I pranced around in my room wearing my Black "Compton" hat and holding my brown, wooden brush in the mirror mimicking Eazy's lyrics.

My body was hot and I was perspiring a little bit from this show I am putting on for an imaginary audience.

I always dream what it would be like to be on stage with Eazy-E, hearing the fans screaming, people cheering you on.

It must be amazing to have that type of effect on people. As if you are a God of some sort.

After listening to all the songs on the album, I decided to go and shower before my mom returned home from work.

I showered, still singing Eazy's songs, returning to my room to lotion up and put on a pair of fuzzy pajama pants and a white t shirt to get started on my homework.

Cutting on the desk lamp and dumping my text books out onto my desk, I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and just started writing,

A letter to Eazy's fan club.

It might be a little much sending a letter to these fan clubs because I think the artists honestly never sees these letters.

They have their little secretaries just send off an already printed poster with their autograph and send it to the address they received the letter from.

I wrote and wrote and wrote until my hand cramped up and it was time for me to take my prescribed steroidal medication called Prednisone. I hate this medicine; I always swell up and have bad acne because of it.

I exited my room and walked down the hallway to find my mom coming through the door, holding a Popeyes bag.

She half smiled as she rested her keys on the Cherrywood table next to the couch.

"Hey pretty girl", my mom smiled as she handed me the Popeyes bag. "It was getting kind of late and I know that you probably didn't want to wait for me to cook"

I smiled a little as I retrieved the bag from my mom.

"Mommy.... don't call me pretty" I said as I slowly walked away into the kitchen.

"Zaria" my mom sighed as her heels clicked across the marbled kitchen floor. "I hate when you do this. You are a very pretty y...- "

"A dying young lady", I interrupted.

I reached into the cabinet, pulling out the small medicine bottle that has a half full prescription of my meds.

I could feel my mom eyes burning through the flesh of my skin, causing me to look at her.

"Why you keep staring at me?"

My mom eye brows furrowed as she hung her head in defeat.

"I hate when you talk like this Zee" her voice trembled. "I know this isn't easy but you could be a little more optimistic about...- "

"ABOUT DYING!", I barked, closing the cabinet. "There is nothing to be optimistic about. You heard the doctor. We are just waiting until I die and you can resume with your life"

"You are cold and callus you know that?" My mom shouted, now with base in her voice.

"You're my only child and No parent. I mean ABSOLUETELY NO PARENT SHOULD HAVE TO BURRY THEIR CHILD UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES. YOUR ACTING LIKE YOUR FATHER"