A short story of a misguided youth that adapted to his harsh environment in order to survive.
pg.1
Black Frost
Chapter. 1
Springwood Ave was like a ghost town ever since the F.E.D did the back to back sweeps in the early nineties. Alot of hustlers and playas got locked up or died from my block. They left alot of youngins on their own out there in them streets. I was a youngin out there straggling. I felt hopeless for a minute.The sweeps messed the coke connect up so everybody was starving.
Alot of renegade whores ran up and down that stroll with no guidance, with wide loads of scratch. There was only three, or four pimps out there. The rest was dead, or in jail like everybody else. At night i use to pray for the day when I would be all grown up. I knew i would be a bad motha fucka!
The year was nineteen ninety four and the smell of opportunity was in the air on Spring Wood Avenue. I can remember the first day the will power to have more came over me. I’m going to tell you like this, the pressure of living in poverty in a lot of cases forced some of the humblest souls to drift off into a dark realm. Shiiiit, my old endeavors haunt me til this day.
I was fed up, and my four month old brother was screaming to the top of his infant lungs. For two hours i tried to feed him the cold oatmeal that i luckily found stuffed deep in the empty kitchen cabinet. The heat was off so i had to soak the peach flavor oats in the ice cold water before giving it to him. I felt like killing my mother as she kept her pimp friend entertained up stairs.
The winter hawk was to much for my brother with no food to eat. I had to get us up out of there. My mother must was having a good time up stairs with her company because the so called playa was slipping, he left his full length black fur coat laid across the upstairs railing. Like a natural reaction i snatched the fur, grabbed my brother and stormed out of the front door into the roaring winter storm, hoping to better my situation.
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