Two little girls experience a night of sheer terror when they venture out on a Halloween night in 1984 Detroit.

I saw all three of us focus on what was happening to everything around except us. Momma met a man one time. He told her he was a director. He just

appeared one day with California license plates. Said that he was going to make her a star. She followed him to his motel room and he made a movie. I never saw it; neither did anyone else except him and his friends.

My first recollection the summer of ‘83 we were living far from here on the other side of Eight Mile Road in the city in a rundown home completely abandoned. My Grandma could never find us because we moved around so much. We moved around so much I forgot who I was, where I was, what my purpose

was:

I was in a house by myself. A man came to the door. He was looking for Momma. I didn’t know where she was. I was scared and crying and she was missing and there were fires on the television and I heard the man at the door. He was leaving and I wanted to go so I wouldn’t be all alone. Where was she, fallen

angel? Where do the children go when people fight not to be near each other and I was a part of both of them? He was looking for her. She owed him money in a place where money was leaving the city and I had to grab what I could before it was all gone.

            He told me to come with him. I said no and turned around to run. There was blood on the walls. Outside, there were worlds that you would only hear about on television and the Tigers lived in a world above everyone else, running through the streets uncaged and unmatched. Everyone else was running away from the city and I was trapped there until she returned. I thought then of my grandmother, who had a gun for anyone that came near her home but was too afraid to leave her home.

Later, after we had been living there awhile, I found the attic and a side window through one of the bedrooms where I could lift myself up to the top of the house. I climbed to the top of the roof. I looked down. I wanted to fly away from there. Away from burning buildings and burning babies. The smell of smoke was everywhere. When my grandmother was my age, there was a wall across Eight Mile Road. To keep people like myself out. Away from a mother like mine, that I was afraid wouldn’t come back. The nameless, faceless people who heard me scream at night. When I was on the roof, threatening to jump off, they pointed up at me and walked away.  

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