The streets laid barren, only littered with trash and waste. Children starve and fight for food. The men run rampant, beating other men, doing unspeakable things to the women. The girls live in fear, cowering from these things. The slums are a devilish place to live. Although as hard as you try, you cant get out. You watch all of the crime and the hate, while just beyond the fence, lies a utopia. But they won’t let you in. You fight all you can to beat the darkness, but being poor in your land, means death in your land. What is called Poverty in America, is living it up where your from. But you can’t get there. People come some times to bring you food, from another land. But then once you get it, and they leave, the slums go into war for this small smidgen of food that wouldn’t even fill a common mans pantry. But one day, you pray, you’ll go to that land they speak of, and be a common man. At least for you, it’s far from poverty.
Sticks and other brush were crunching under his feet as he ran. The blood came in pulses for every step he took. He was panicked, trying to find something to tie around his shoulder to stagger the bleeding and help form a clot. His running began to slow while his breathing increased. He was in the middle of the woods. He couldn’t leave for fear of his life. All he hoped for was someone to walk into the woods and help him. He began feeling light headed; his body slowly slumped to the ground. When he finally came to, it was dark. The bleeding in his shoulder seemed to have stopped. His head was still throbbing in pain. In the distance a crunch was heard, he assumed the worst and his imagination ran wild. He lived in terror like this for the next six days. He started going crazy, his mind only yearned for food and to survive. But then he remembered what the officer said, he could return after a week. An hour later he had entered the town square. It was in an uproar, people were going insane. Nobody seemed to noticed the boy in tattered clothing. He noticed the officer who had told him to stay in the woods for a week. As he walked towards him, all he hoped to do was kill him. He was about to run, but then a familiar sensation pierced his body. He felt a strange warmth in his gut. He began to stagger backwards as his eyes went black. His body hit the ground. The officer smiled as he began to slowly walk away.
The once warm body of the detective quickly turned cold. The now lifeless body slowly dropped to the ground letting go of the food just recently purchased. The entire area turned quiet for only a moment. Then as if hell had opened its gates, an uproar instantaneously started. People were screaming and sprinting for cover. A 15 year old child, in tattered clothing slowly walked towards the injured officer. The gun clicked again. But unlike the first time, the boy dropped dead. A week earlier, as the gun fired for the first time, the boy tearfully afraid could only cower. The bullet pierced into his shoulder. He dropped off of his couch quivering in pain. “See here boy” the officer laughed at him “You won’t be telling nobody watchu just seen here, got it?” the boy only cowered in fear of a fatal shot. “Leave the house boy, and make sure to stay in your woods for a week. I will kill you if you return before then.” The boy could hardly stand from sheer agony but managed to run out the door towards the woods. The officer then pointed the gun at his arm. He pulled the trigger sending a tyrant of pain through to his brain. He reached for his radio. “HQ! The boy grabbed my gun sir. He shot the Corporal dead, then he shot me in the arm, He got away sir!” He dropped his radio.
A week later, another two similar deaths had been uploaded to the Police Departments computers. A detective, with a similar last name to the original two victims and the missing child, blankly gazed at the screens wondering if there was a connection. Only in the first case of the murders was the child taken. All other cases the child was found dead lying next to the parents. Suddenly the detective felt a cold metallic surface brush his face. A fellow officer with a gunshot wound to the arm was standing next to him, also peering at the files. “I hear it’s an officer whose been committin this crap y’no?” the officer said solemly. “What kinda guy abuses his power as a cop? Just to kill others…that aint a road I wanna take man, we were sworn to protect the lil peeps in this town not shoot em.” He pointed at the second murder case. “Wassat in the picture there?” The detective peered closer at the picture and noticed something written in blood on the table near the people lay dead. “I thought there wasn’t no gunshot or cut wounds on the people. But then howd blood get on the wall?” the officer walked away silently but seemed to never lose track of where the detective was. Twenty minutes later the detective was going on break. He stepped out the door and walked to the nearest fast food restaurant. The officer with the gunshot wound followed. He pulled out his gun, slowly pointing in the direction of the officer. The gun for the 2nd time, clicked.
He picked up the phone and dialed. The phone began beeping to simulate being busy. “How could the line be busy?” He thought aloud. He looked to the floor in defeat for a moment, before realizing what was already there. He staggered back and flopped onto his couch. Tears began streaking down his cheeks at the sudden realization of what had befallen his parents. The phone began to ring. As he slowly reached for the phone the calling ceased. He laid back as the ringing started up again. He quickly swiped the phone and answered. It was the police. But they seemed to have already known what had happened. A car door slammed. Footsteps inched closer and closer to the small suburban house. The front deck was being scaled as feet clamored on the wood. The screen door swung open and a loud knocking sound persisted through the house. “Police!” The door swung open while the boy still sat there in tears. Two police walked through the door and stopped after seeing the boy. “I heard about your parents son. I’m sorry” the officer said before slipping his gun out from its holster. Within an instant, the second officer dropped to the floor after a crack. The boy looked up with fear on his face. The surviving officer smiled. Staring at the boy he lifted his gun. “I’m not sorry enough…to do this.” The gun clicked.
The shades were raised, portraying a radiant light. The woodsy air flowed through the window, bringing a fresh summer breeze into a cold musty house. For yet there was another smell also. It wasn’t coming from outside. It was slipping from under the unopened door. The stagnant smell awoke a still young 15 year old high school student. From the moment his eyes slowly opened he only could wonder what the rancid smell was. He arose from his bed to gaze out into the dazzling green forest his window portrayed. He closed his window at the thought that the smell came from outside. He slowly climbed down the steep stairs of his house, realizing the smell was getting worse as he went. He stepped into the open kitchen only to find an unnerving sight. His parents lie on the floor completely lifeless. Not one inch of their cold bodies made even a single flinch. Realizing this was the cause of the antagonizing smell, stammered and still in shock began to evaluate the possible cause of death. He began searching his narrow home for clues as to what could have happened. But the clue was hidden in the single place he could have never expected. As the jaw of his deceased mother lay wide open, he saw a small white paper inside of it. Hesitating as to whether or not he reach into the vacancy in his lifeless mothers mouth, he finally snatched the paper. Upon opening the piece of paper he read, a single letter in the Japanese Alphabet. “死”. Death. But this was no clue as to who or what killed them. He couldn’t do anything now, except call the police, and wallow in his sorrow.
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