Brooklyn Chronicles: Save our Sons and Daughters

                                                                         

                                                                            /PROLOGUE

                     

A dark street situated in the urban districts of Brooklyn was as silent as death. Abandoned cats, lives, souls and even a new born baby were hid under shelter, cardboard boxes and some in public bins. During a cold summer night, the winds were sharp and dark silhouettes only meant one thing, trouble.

Walking through streets towered by the block of buildings and public housing, a dark and tall figure stopped before a street lamp. He made sure his identity was kept hidden and unrecognised underneath an overly sized black hood, cargo pants, heavy boots and leather gloves.

His legs became weak and his grazed knees met with the cold and rough surface of the ground stained with blood and slime. His hands travelled to his lower abdomen and his palm rubbed that area in a circular motion.

He was in too much shock to realise that he was losing ounces of blood from his intestines. His dark red warm blood dripped across the concrete ground like a leaking tap by the street gutters. The dry sides of his mouth came into contact with his wet saliva and his tongue slurped the hanging and string of saliva dripping from his mouth.

He couldn’t breathe and he didn’t have the energy to keep on going, even if it was his last. His body fell accordingly and the side of his face landed flat on the ground. His hoarse voice tried to bring out words but death’s silence had its grip on his soul.

The pupils of the young man’s eyes became pale and tears fell down. His hands across the floor twitched in the same way his body shook.

The street light became to flicker on its spot and eventually it became dim before it blew out. The shattering glass fell like glittering diamonds and the sharp edges would have sliced his head open if his hood wasn’t on. He blinked several times and all he could do was watch his life slip away. His body felt as light as a feather and pain was close to extinct.  He could have sworn the clouds were moving.

A flashing light coming from the lightning struck down a tree nearby and as much as he could remember, a bullet from Pablo felt like fire in his lower abdomen.

 

Take me away from the hood, like a state penitentiary

Take me away from the hood, in a casket or a Bentley

“Tank, Tank, Tank.” A voice from a far distance made his eyes twitch. His eye lids were heavy and he struggled to open his eyes, he felt like death’s thumb had its pressure on his eyes and its fingers in his mouth as he began to choke.

“Help, please he is choking!”

Tank’s eyes snapped open and his body shook in the small sized hospital bed. His chest became tight and sweat slid its way down his head. His family of six surrounded him and hugged him.

He wrapped his arms around the youngest Zipporah looking up at the sky.

And I’m grindin’ ‘til’ i’m tired cos’ they said you ain’t grindin’ til’ you tired, so i’m grinding with my eyes wide, looking to find a way through the day, a light for the night.

Dear Lord you done took so many of my people, I’m just wondering why you haven’t taken my life. Like what the hell am I doing right?

My life.