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Well im putting together a weekly story, which I will post when I can, will probably try to retain it to sundays however. Heres the first part:
The city was always teaming with life, which was probably why he loved it so much. I could never pinpoint the exact reason why my brother loved this place so much. I just saw it as a place to live. He however saw it as something much bigger than that. It was something about the way the city changed, as if it had moods. During the early morning hours chaos would erupt, as hundreds of commuiting workers, who honestly had nothing better to do than work; wen't about buying their coffee, and reading the newspaper. Yelling into their cell phones while driving throught bumper to bumper traphic. The horns, the yells, the sirens could all be heard for miles. The smell of exhaust fumes ripe in the morning air. It made waking up rather unpleasant. During the work-day, things were often quiet, but it was also the time kids, and wannabe gangsters liked to come out, the boys had skipped school again, getting themselves deaper and deaper into the world of drug dealing. Often, shoot-outs would be heard between the tiny "gangs" if that was even a good word for them. They were more like boys playing with real toy guns. They had no idea what they were killing eachother for. To be like a favorite rapper perhaps? Or one of the big time dealers with all his fancy cars and guns? Whatever the reason, the streets teamed with them while their parents were working.
After work hours got out, the chaos was even worse, when people, tired and angry from a long days work, often chose that time to best express their anger towards eachother. Road rage was not uncommon, but the simple streets turned into bumper cars after work hours were over. Constant accidents and fights, it might take you an hour to move down one bloc. At night, was when the big dogs came out. The little kid gangsters were all sound asleep, but night time was the time of choice for the big dogs. The massive gangs that lived in the ghettos to fight eachother over turf, drugs, and especially women. Often gunshots could be heard, echoing through the streets at night, reminding us that the city was still very dangerous. It was like this all the time, I personally hated it, my brother however, loved it.
My brother owned a small business, too small, he had a few taxis that he liked to send back and forth to different areas. He never made much, but he had big dreams for it one day, It was another part of his dream that was city life. Ironic that the same cab company he came to love, would turn into his worst enemy in the months to come. It all began about one year ago. My cousin had sent out his number four cab to an eastern suburb. The cab driver apparently got into a scuffle with some wannabe theives. They found him in a ghetto alleyway five miles from where he was suppose to be. He was beaten good, and had been paralyzed from the neck down. The cab however was still missing. My brothers investment had ran off, and he called the Police Department every five to ten minutes looking for more answers. They never had any. A stolen cab was the least of their worrys.
My brother went riding all over town, looking for the car, why it was so important to him I didn't know. I figured his search would end horribly. I wanted no part in his search, although he begged me for help, I was busy with my own life. I was working for a construction company, and dating a very nice girl. Me and her went all over town, to ever club, bar, and attraction there was to see. My job payed just enough for three TV channels and a one room apartment. I didn't mind the lifestyle, I had grown use to it. It felt wierd though that my girlfriend was richer than I, I never really knew how to impress her, she'd just impress herself. She was a funny girl, very intelligent, and was getting money somehow, to go to college. I couldn't help but wonder how she came across it, but she refused to tell me. I didn't even have a vehicle, she had to ride me places on her moped, I think she rather enjoyed it though, watching me in constant humiliation made her laugh. I didn't complain.
One night, me and my girlfriend, Maybelle, or as I called her: May. Were sitting upstairs of her place, watching some wannabe knock-off of wheel of fortune, when we heard the thunderous pounding of footsteps charging up the stairs. A loud bang came from the door, followed by a voice,
"Let me in! Guys! Let me in god damnit!" It was my brother. May and I were confused, I got up and unlocked the door, and my brother came tumbling through the door. His eye all bloodied and dripping to the floor. I quickly dropped the can of soda I had been carrying and caught him. Resting him on a chair in the kitchen. May ran to get a towel, as I asked my brother in disbelief,
"What the hell happened?!"
"That cab, I found it, in the hands of a bunch of dealers man, they jumped me, one cut out my eye with a knife, the others just laughed, until they all beat me, and threw me into the street. I ran here as fast as I could, im scared shitless man, im scared shitless" He moaned, he was shaking. The blood from his eye was gushing onto the table, May soon returned with the towels and I applied as much pressure to it as possible. May ran to the phone, and fumbling it, called 9-1-1. The paramedics had quite a hard time removing him from the home, the tiny door, and steep staircase made their job harder. The door opened to a kitchen and dining area, where a large circular table sat, needless to say the rooms werent very large. They walked him down the stairs, and loaded him into the back of their truck. Before he left, he yelled
"3545 St. Robins." The doors slammed shut, the siren rang, and my brother was gone. I found the taxi outside, bullet holes up and down its length, blood from my brothers eye stained the dash and the seat. Three of the cars windows were smashed, bullet holes filled the others. It was obvious by the damage my brother had been chased out of the area, guns riviting his car. Seeing my brother like that only increased my hatred towards the place. The anger I felt ran deep, going back to our father, who drunk, tried to murder us at the ages of thirteen and fifteen. He came home one night, drunk from a party at the bar, an argument with my mother led to a fight, and soon I was standing in the kitchen defending my mom and little brother with a large bone knife. My father came out of the bedroom with a gun in his hand, mumbling in slurred speach
"You bitch! You bitch! Look what you've done to these boys!" He put the gun to his temple, and then put the dark barrel towards us. My mom was to the left, my brother hid behind the kitchen table, crying in fear. I yelled to my father
"You asshole! Put the gun down!" he chuckled, and then looked me straight in the eye and yelled with all fullness in his heart
"Fuck You!" a shot rang out, I lunged forward, my knife found its mark, it thrust into his stomach, and in a split second he lay on the floor bleeding. The gun slid across the kitchen floor. I stood, retrieved the gun, and in sheer anger and disbelief, put four rounds into my fathers face, with no pity or remorse. The blood from him splattered onto my shoes and my favorite pair of jeans, and from behind me I heard a cry.
"M...M...Mama!" I immediately turned towards my brother, whom the cry had come from. He stood in shock staring off into the distance, when I looked to see what he was staring at, my mother lay on the floor, a hole in her thigh, blood flowing from the wound. My brothers crys became more eradic, as I ran over to my wounded mother. I yelled to my brother to call 9-1-1, but he wouldn't budge. I ran and grabbed the phone, calling the number as fast as possible. Before anybody arrived, my mother was dead. The bullet had cut her phemoral artery, there was nothing we could've done.
That night came back to me standing there staring at my brothers car, I turned my gaze towards the stoop of the apartment complex, where standing silently with her hand covering her mouth, May stood, staring back at me. She turned and went inside, but I stood there for what seemed an eternity, recalling my parents deaths, and contemplating my next move. Without anything stoping me, I ran to my car, climbed in. And started the engine.
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And if someone can fix the tabs...thatd be nice, wouldnt have to seperate it like this.
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