1971 Worcester Massachusetts was forty three years before the declaration of the civil war on the east coast. In 1971, the fifth Mayor of Worcester was Joseph M Tinsley and “between” 1951-1985 the cities manager was Francis J Mc Grath. Worcester is a city of bricks that hold the dampness of winter and the warmth of its summers. 1971 was when behind the cities common construction of the million square foot galleria took a large swath of Worcester’s down town. It was built in hope to out shine the dark bricks that pedestrians have to drive past to reach the galleria, but it never had great success. In 1971 Worcester was continually growing alongside of the drug fiends that were growing more rapidly with every passing year. Here in Worcester there is a locally famous section of its Main Street that has been named Main South. This part of Main Street starts around the intersection of Hammond, May and Main Street and runs down Main Street to city hall that is in front of the common and the galleria. Main South rightfully earned its dark reputation, being polluted with the hookers and the majority of the city’s most dangerous street dealer’s aside the Great brook Valley. Like most cities cocaine and heroin are these city streets Adam.
But main South will soon be challenged against the greatest threat that this city will ever face, that the Devil himself has carved into its grim existence when it introduced Worcester to crack cocaine. During these times of its dangerous transition Main South’s unbathed brick buildings and littered streets kept a reddish black color of brown to the city. The dedicated street sales men of coke and heroin have been mistaken by some as being average street pimps. It has turned out for some to be a fatal mistake.
Today Jacks stood on the corner of King and Main Street. If you were to see him as you drove through Main South, your initial thought would be he clearly looks local. Not that he necessarily dressed in any fashion trend or any style that may be publicly in. Jacks rather dressed in clothing that seemed to blend in with the time and age of the city that he has spent entire life in. His feet looked to be strongly into the Brown concrete. While his eyes looked kind his body language look anything but. His gut was thin and his chest was big. His lungs were loud in voice and Jacks has built his reputation on being a person of and for his peers. His pockets were always filled with small baggies of coke and heroin. His street age was experienced, yet he has only been robbed a couple of times. The fall out of both robberies proved Jacks was to be the wrong man to rob. But the city is full of fiends and Main South is the most dangerous streets to work.
Jacks lived by a code of no killing cops or hurting women and children. He has been arrested numerous times and yet he still does not run from any police. In prison or on the streets his profession never changes. Being black has helped him at times and at other times not so much. He has been tossed on both sides of the fence his entire life. The buildings shadows say it’s well before noon and sales are average. But today would change this city forever. Including Jacks, only a select few knew that the civil war on the east coast had almost never existed at all. If you are a person of any religion you believe in a God. You must also believe in its adversary the Devil too. In 1971 the Gods started a war on
our streets centered in Main South. It was just like any other war in history. One evil sent to destroy another evil. One foe sent by Gods right hand, the other sent by the Devil himself.
The future of the cities war stirred in the almond belly of Angelica Ann Smith. Her belly stretched out of her malnourished skeletal frame. She was awkwardly making her way down Main Street heading into Main South. Her footsteps looked mechanical and precise showing her every step was taking in pain. Before falling the sweat conjugated on her pale fore head. Angelica was oblivious to the war that rages on inside her womb. The further her pregnancy went, the more cigarettes she puffed. The further her pregnancy got the more cocaine she injected. When she walked past May Street she saw Jacks standing on the corner of King and Main Street. The sweat soaked ten dollar bill in her hand was a loan from the Devil himself. When Jacks saw her he started shaking his head turning his back to her. She knew he had no intention of serving her. Miss leading she started by pleading, “Jacks I have ten dollars please!” Jacks turned around and looked at her. He looked her over up and down. Her hair was black and dirty. Different length strands dangled past her scrawny shoulders that barley held the one piece she had on that did not reach her knees. It was an ugly yellow color that she got from the Salvation Army. Her cheeks were sunken in, her eyes were swollen. Her shoes did not look like they even fit her feet. Her bony knees were scabbed and scraped. She had dried blood in her nostrils. Gods will was pushing Jacks to deny her! But the Devil had his angle and played his turn when in allude she strategically said, “Most likely it’s yours!”
Jacks felt confused, he stared into her eyes. She saddened them with a life time of experience. With her scratchy sore sounding voice she coaxed, “Please!” Jacks held the small bag of cocaine. The Devil smiled as Jacks reached out to hand it to her. But God took his turn and before Jacks eyes he seen her wince and then he saw her water brake!!! The Devil felt cheated He screamed, “NO!” In alarm Jacks said, “I’ll go and call for an ambulance!” Jacks Ran for a pay phone! Angelica took off in the opposite direction. She could feel her contractions painfully continually getting closer together. She turned onto Piedmont Street. She quickly walked into an alley that she was very familiar with. She sat herself down next to a dirt green dumpster. The pain quickly became over bearing! She could not stop herself from screaming out the agony! She laid herself on her back, struggling to slide her wet underwear off. She felt the child was coming. Instincts took over, she concentrated on her breathing. When she felt it was time to push she pushed!!! The pain became so severe she thought for sure something was wrong! It never seemed to end as the moments slowly went painfully by. She began to live in the reality her body might not survive the birth! But then God took his turn. Out of where Angelica found added strength!!!
All religions and in every tradition mentions a first man. Each great historical period has a primordial man. Since the being of our very existence we had our free will to do as we want, to kill, to love, to be honest, and to be a liar. It has always been up to us to choose. But today the chain has been broken! In heavy breaths Angelica began to push harder! The Devil stomped his feet when Angelica first heard her child’s cries! After a final couple of agonizing pushes she felt her child leave her body.
The relief was instant! The sweat covered her exhausted body, she was so happy for it to be over. But the relief was only short lived as she felt something else coming. She found herself pushing out the after birth. When it ended she sat up and looked at the mess before her. Angelica stared at her child who laid on the sandy asphalt and cried before her. Angelica had never been a violent woman. A life time of
her being abused could not ever let her justify it to herself. If she was alive today she would say it to your face! It was an act from the devil himself! But Angelica did not know when God broke the free will chain the Devil was now able to follow suit and he took his turn when Angelica reached down and smothered her child’s mouth.
The moments passed by and she would never remember them, whether it was self- preservation or kindness from a higher power. She has been spared the memory of those moments that forged our great cities history! Now God played his turn when Amber Morgan who was another fiend living in these historic times. She just copped a half gram of heroin. She was headed to an alley that she knew very well to be a safe place to get straight in. Amber had once read somewhere her name can be linked to a psychic thread, linking individual energy to cosmic energy, and it is said to be a symbol of solar spiritual and divine attraction; in Christian imagery, the saints sometimes have amber faces reflecting their inner heavenly light.
Amber had been told stories when she was younger about guarding angels that are said to be, “sleepers!” Some say they stay dormant in chosen ones until their life’s purpose is called upon. It’s also been said that certain children’s cries can be only be heard by their guarding angel. Amber walked into the alley immediately seeing the bloody mess on the ground! She stood over the bloody entrails of the after birth staring in wander until she heard a child’s cry! It took her a moment of trying to process what was happening. Then Amber heard it again! She looked over at the dumpster, when she heard it a third time she climbed onto the dumpster and looked in. It was such a surreal site she found herself fighting to keep her composure. She jumped into the dumpster and got a closer look. In the midst of the city’s trash laid a baby boy with his umbilical cord wrapped around his throat. Amber wrapped the child in her arms and ran for the closest hospital! The Devil turned his head in defeat! The battle had been won and so the war began! The war of the gods will be known to the world as the civil war on the east coast!
Man vs. crack and so began the legend of Mythril Creen!!!
With a creaking noise on every step, Creen thought it was well chosen to be living here. No one will be coming up to the second floor without being heard. The stairs were the same ugly peeling green paint that could be found on each floors porch on this three story apartment building. The building was nearly identical to every other three decker on the street. When people have asked, “Did you eat a lot of paint chips growing up?” Creen thinks of this as the paint chips break under his feet. When he reached the apartments front door he found it wide open and even with the stairs as an alarm. Creen was still met unchallenged at the door. Coming from inside the apartment, Creen heard a radio begin to play with very loud bass. Walking through the front door he entered the kitchen. The room was not lit very well. It fell under the same repetitious fashion that had made up most of the city. The only lighting provided for the kitchen was an old round light that in shape resembled a Frisbee. It was partially dimmed by the smoke that weightlessly floated across the ceiling. The odor was spontaneous and with his first breath, the smell was unmistakable… (Crack)…Before he took another step he seen a feather on the kitchen floor. What Creen found strange was the color of the feather was purple.
Creen first took notice of a gun that sat on the kitchen table. Next to the gun was a syringe along with a glass of water and a white powdered stained spoon. From the angle the spoon was sitting at, he could see the burnt blackness that covered the bottom of the spoon. The stove was a mere two steps from the table. Instinctively Creen knew that someone used the open flame from the stove to heat their drugs in the spoon. Seasoned addicts find it’s more practical to use the open flame from a stove rather than a smaller flame from a lighter. Further up on the table was a can that had been strategically dented on top with tiny pin holes poked through. At the end of the table there was a small wooden box with an egg sitting on top of it. Creen could see someone had carved the words, “Follow the shadow!” into the side of the box. Creen looked over at the counter. On the back splash someone wrote, “Worm Town.” Creen smiled as he read the cities nick name. Locals felt a pride to declare they are the true blood of the worm. Till this day Creen still is not a hundred percent sure of how the city earned the nick name. From what he heard is that in the late seventies and early eighties there was a local DJ named LB Worm. He worked for a radio station WCUW. LB kept putting down Worcester’s underground music seen. So Worcester was called Worm Town. But today to be the blood of the worm earns respect. On the counter sat a glass plate with a couple of small pieces of what looks to be crack on it with a glass stem. Next to the plate sat a bottle of pills. Creen did not have to do much investigating to see that was what has been cooking in the spoon on the table. It was then he knew this day would not be like the rest. It’s not what Creen found in the kitchen, it’s what he hears screaming from the next room.
Creen walked into the living room witch he found was just as poorly lit as the kitchen was but clearly the occupants did not seem to mind. When he first entered the room the designated table for the room sat to his left. It was a small legged weak woodened table that beside the peeling paint looks
like it might have been built for children to play with. At the head of the table sat the head thug who Creen came to see. Who reached out to bump fists, but Creen left him hanging making it a blatant direct disrespect! The look on Creen’s face was disgust! At the other end of the table sat two goons, who were only there to do what their commanded to do. Rap music played loud! The bass was pumping! The windows were shaking! A child cries in her crib out of a corner of the smoke filled room. The child is unattended to and looks very hungry. The diaper the child wore had a swollen look that Creen knew could not have been changed since yesterday. A fiend crawled naked on the floor; she is crumbing for any pieces of crack that might have fallen. But there never is any, never the less it’s where she stay’s. He looks at the naked fiend who was a skeleton in skin with breast that did not match her petite frame. It was easy for him to see she is the child’s mother. Creen also knew at that moment what she was there to do. The look she gave him was saying, “Please drop off the crack and forget what you see!” He looked at her from head to toe. He could see a little piece of flab hat hung around her gut. Her back was all bone down to her ass witch was all bone as well. Her skin was filled with acne producing white heads that were ready to explode.
Her ass had soars that look moist and painful. With Creens silence the tension quickly got high. Through the room’s urea of grey, Creen catches the nervous glance one of the goons gave their boss. Creen looked around the room. He took a moment to take it all in. He is filled with disgust!!! It is finally here he thought. He went from being born in an alley to spending his entire life in this city. Over the years he has seen evil, he has seen his share of grim situations. But at last he believes he sees rock bottom! The true arm pit of Worcester! Evil at its core, the worst this city has to offer now stands before him! He asks himself, “Would he see it all different if Melissa was here to see it with him?” Creen reaches down his shirt and came out with two ounces of crack. He tossed it on the table in front of the head thug. The fiend’s mouth on the floor started watering. Her daughter’s screams grew more distant to her as she stared at the crack while it was being put onto the triple beam scale. Again Creen looks at her. He can easily see she is barley a women, yet it looks like she used all her resources that her youths flesh has provided her with. The lips between her legs were bruised purple with a rash that has grotesquely spread on to her inner thighs. Under her nose her lips were chaffed that held an open sore that was growing from her upper lip onto her cheek.
If she had spoken Creen is sure her voice would sound rasped in soreness. The fiends breast where her daughter would feed from are hickied, bruised with teeth marks from cruel bites! Creen looks over to the child who still cries. It is clear to Creen the child will not stop crying until she passes out from exhaustion. Then when she awakes in hunger and thirst, she will follow the same process until the fate of the child has been made. The fate of the child lye’s here, on this shirtless perverted thug at the head of the table and the fiend who has been blessed with this daughter that now she chooses to sell!!! But tonight their lives have crossed paths with the war of the Gods! Creen stands idle in confusion while his money is being counted. He could not understand why they did not simply meet him at the door. Why did they let him see what his product is contributing to!
An all too familiar anxiety runs through Creen, as for the first time he understands how the city thugs truly thought of him. His anger raged when he sees they think he would be ok with watching this child go from being some ones daughter to becoming some ones property! He can hear Ronny telling
him what must be done. There are five bodies in the room and one infant. Creen knows three must die. There are four gun hands, three against his one. Then Creen thought about the plate with crack on it in the kitchen along with the gun that sat on the table. Who it belongs to Creen did not know. But he knew it belong to no one in this room. He knew he had to act soon but he needed a minute. Creen leaves the apartment stepping out onto the front porch. His mood over comes him. He is wrapped up in the moment. He thinks about the fiend on the floor. Then he thought about Melisa, did she live the same path as the fiend on the floor. He deeply misses her. It would be right about now she would reach in and give him a kiss.
He remembers Melissa’s lips could relieve a life time of stress. Creen pulls a pint of knob Creek from his pocket. He took in a long swig of the warm whisky… (The fire of life)…The crisp night air brings back memories. It reminds him of listing to a radio. When he hears certain songs, they instantly transport him back to a different time and place. He thinks back and can remember so many girls he has known. But everything was different when he met Melissa. Creen feels he failed her! He strongly believes if he was half the man his name was, Lori and Melissa would be alive today, but only in the ground the lay. When Melissa and Creen would sleep at night, there was so many times he was forced to lay there awake listening to Melissa cry in her sleep. Then at times he painfully could not stop himself from painting the graphic pictures from racing wild in his thoughts. He would think out their perversions over and over. With their lying eyes and greedy grins took the best part of him, the very best he ever had! They used and spoiled his love over and over and over again! Some times in their nights together, Creen would have to turn himself over so Melissa did not have to look into his eyes and see what it is a world of greed brings to a man that had to rent and share everything he has ever known how to love to the evil lust with the green of their money, “Putting pennies in the stem!” He laughs and repeats it under his breath, “Pennies in the stem!” It is what it’s all about.
Every problem he has ever had. Every broken commitment, along with every lost dream, it all can be traced back to crack. The worst result of it all now cries only a door way behind him. Creen can hear Steve trying to talk to him. Creen has been blocking Steve and Ricci all day. Steve is always reminding them of their past. He says it is only natural to mourn the loss of our children. That is to build relationships and only to have them stolen! Creen finds himself not arguing with him when he knows how much it would change everything if Lori was alive today! Everything they learned to love was from her. He shakes off the thought and takes a few last swigs finishing the pint. He could not tell you if that was his fourth or fifth one tonight. He has an urge to go hunt down Chocolate. He smiles when he thinks of the nick name he gave her. Creen gave it to her when Amy and him where walking down into Main South. Creen set his eyes on a new trick he has never seen before.
He question Amy, “Do you know her?”
Amy with her sinister smile flirtatiously said, “Yes she is a new girl named Trish.”
With her smile widened she provocatively asked, “Would you like a three some with her and me?”
Creen laughed out loud while he stared at Trish. He then looked back at Amy and admitted, “It would not work.”
Interested Amy asked, “Why not?”
“It is like ice cream, she is vanilla and you’re chocolate. When you combine the two, the chocolate will over power the vanilla and turns it into chocolate.”
Creen paused and looked hard at Trish. Then when he looked back at Amy he concluded, “Your chocolate and when I’m inside her, all I would want is for her to be you.”
Creen snapped out of the memory and reminded himself of how needed he is tonight! But he could not do what needs to be done, not alone any way.
In needed direction Creen asked Ronny, “So what do you think?”
With a quick response Ronny’s voice was dark and confident when he answered, “The same as you, I guess.”
It was not the answer Creen wanted. But it was the answer he knew he would get. His entire existence has led to this hellish decision. Seeking a nonexistent stride of hope, in a state of opposition Creen hastily stated, but it’s so fucking wrong!”
“If not now, then when, if not us, then who?” Asked Ronny diabolically
In assertion Creen yelled, “Its Murder!”
“It’s initiatic death!” Offered Ronny
Creen was distressed; his voice fell in pitch as he asked, “Initiatic death?”
Ambitiously Ronny explained, “The passing from one state of imperfection into a superior state. The scythe brings death yet at the end of every death is the start of a new begging!”
A moment of silence was spent. Then Ronny scornfully said, “Dawn is birth and death is rebirth.
Death is for all the perishable!” “You speak of madness!”
On impulse Ronny assured, “I speak for you! Act now and let’s free our city from this out worn sin!”
“What then?” Questioned Creen
“Then it begins! Your mind Mythril was not designed for any use by any one person!” “
“So, we do it together then?” Asked Creen
Trying to sooth Creen Ronny enthusiastically said. “You got me, I got us! We are the blood of the Worm!
But above all Creen knew it was him who must decide. Three gun hands to his one, if he can survive the city and him will never be the same! The porch fell silent; Creen turns and looks at the front door then he looks at the stairs that leads away.
. . .
…………….Creen walked back into the apartment, smoke rushes into his lungs. A child cries in her crib. The mothers on the floor with fidgeting fingers, she is waiting for orders. The head thug looks at Creen and told him he must leave, so he left. Ronny now is sanding in the middle of the living room. Time seems to have frozen. The thug at the head of the table stares wild eyed at Ronny. The two goons sit with restless eyes showing the same fears. What there to blind to see are Ronny see’s five bodies but only three needs to die! The fiend on the floor has stopped breathing. Ronny glares hungry at her jugulars every pulse! Her blood waits for its oxidization, her small nipples stand erect. Her daughter screams out into the smoke filled air! The bass pumps, her jugular pulses! Ronny’s anxiety is rising! His mind is throbbing in pulsating rage! The fiends heart is racing, the windows are shaking! Out of fear the fiend is passing gas. The moment ends as Ronny goes for his gun! It had a domino effect as every gun hand went for their guns!!! Ronny fired the first shot hitting the head thug in the face before the thug’s gun could take aim! Upon hearing the first gunshot the fiend shits on the floor. The two goons quickly fired their pistols getting one shot off each before they ran out the door! Ronny has been shot twice! He turned the gun on the fiend. Angered fingers squeezed the trigger!!! The bullet tore through her!!! Her brains and feces wet the carpet. Her daughter screams louder as the bass pumps! The blood oxidizes! Then Ronny hesitates and held his breath listening to the soft inducements being whispered into his ears until at last he seen Creen nod and there was one more gunshot!!! Ronny and Creen, bleeding, ran out of the apartment. Three bodies lay dead…………….
. . .
Creen ran out the door! He could not feel the stairs beneath him as he was running down them. At first there was no pain. There was not much of anything while he was running. Creens entire life has been lived in this city. There were so many different places for him to run to. Places where he could get the medical help he needs! The blood was running fast out of him. But there were no decisions on where for him to run to. It was not long before Creen found himself in the same alley he was born in. There have been times he felt some comfort in his life when he thinks he could be standing in the same spot that his mother had once stood. He stared frustrated down the narrow silent alley. The dark alley felt unconnected from the rest of the world. The sandy asphalt gave the ground an uncomfortable feel. The buildings bricks that made the alley were dark brown in color, damp, and cold. It is no secret that the sun spends as much time on these walls as it shines on the devil’s feet. The only scenery aside the old brick buildings was an old dirty green dumpster.
He tries to imagine what his birth must have been like. How painful it must have been for his mother. He tried not to believe that his mother strangled him and left him to die in a dumpster. Creen read that there’s a spot in every one’s mind called the abyss. It’s said to be a place where a transformation can take place. Creen read that dreaming of an abyss is positive; it is an invitation to plumb ones inner depths and explore the most intimate parts of one’s personality, that is, the unconscious, which contains an immense source of life and vitality. Creen thinks sometimes he could have been forced to be born in his abyss. To be murdered in the moments of his birth could have split his mind four times. Ricci, Steve, Ronny, and Creen! Maybe it’s he could never figure on how to get out. Creen pulled his shirt up and stared at the two bullet holes on his side. The adrenaline was dissipating and the pain was increasing. In a painful landing he slumped down onto his knees. His vision was blurry, everything started to spin. Then he heard a faint voice and in his blurry vision he could make out a distorted figure of someone standing over him!
When Creen came around he was alone in a hospital bed. He knew from the stench where he was before his eyes could adjust. He’s not sure on how happy he is to have woken up at all. But he is in the least unhappy to have woken up in a hospital of all places. He has never liked hospitals not as a child and surely not now. In tired eyes he was looking around the room. He could see it did have all the features one would need to live comfortable. It has a TV, a bathroom with a shower. All your food gets hand delivered. The room does have plenty of natural light coming thru two huge windows. That also provided a view of the city. But Creen could never feel any comfort while lying in any hospital bed. He could almost feel the hopeless feeling that the room would have if you could not leave. Everybody knows this is where you lay on your death bed. To be stuck here by some unfortunate circumstances.
He could never stop himself but to feel he is lying in the same bed that someone else had once died in.
Looking at the white painted wall across the room he saw a large painting of a bird. What Creen found strange was that the bird was painted green, Creens never seen a green bird before. He takes a deep breath as the events that took place are fresh in his thoughts. He had no idea of how long he has been asleep. But in his mouth he could still taste the smoke from the apartment. He is trying to think of the last thing he could remember. He can remember the alley, he knows someone else was there with him, but he has no idea of who it was. He starts to remember thinking about the abyss. Creen read about it in a book called the Mammoth book of lost symbols, written by Nadia Julien. He remembers reading that in Greek and Latin, it says the abyss denotes definite depths of heights and universally, symbolizes the informal states of existence in witch transformation can take place; evolution as opposed to a solid, fixed state. What had struck out in his tormented uneducated mind, is it say’s man has to confront his personal abyss at least four times in a life time, that is, he has to reconsider his convictions and questions his motives in order to achieve maturity… (The four ages of man)...When Creen first read this he wondered if he really could be stuck in his abyss. Then maybe the four ages of man became the four of him being, Ricci, Steve, Ronny, and him. But then again he thought he could just be out of his fucking mind!
Creen was about to get up to leave when a man came walking in. In reflex Creen watched the man’s strut as he walked up to Creens bed. He looked to be the confident type. That had that look like; he had any situation under control. He was neatly dressed in khaki’s and a matching Oxford. His sleeves were at their proper length. His Khaki’s seemed to end at a perfect height. His hat though looked like something Inspector Gadget would have worn.
The man seemed genuine as he asked, “Your awake, how do you feel?” “I have been shot twice! How do you think I feel?” Darkly replied Creen
“Well you’re lucky to be alive! Creen my name is salt. I’m a detective working for the WPD. I know you must be in pain, so I will keep it brief. But I need you to answer some questions for me.”
Creen was fast to give the response he has given many times, “There is nothing to discuss!”
Salts demeanor change and he could not hide the agitation from hearing the same response he has gotten time after time over the years. Salt stated, “Creen you have been shot twice!” Who shot you?”
“I don’t talk to cops with or without a lawyer!”
Salt knew any more questions would only end in the same frustrating result! Salt had anger in his voice. He pointed a threating finger at Creen and he derisively reared, “Ok, I will leave you be for now, but know this! You were not the only one shot that night! A mother and her infant daughter were murdered!” Letting himself get emotional Salt barked his diatribe, “I know you’re involved in this! I also know that a lot of people in this city might be scared of you! But when I get just enough evidence, it will not mean pig shit if you talk to me with or without your lawyer! Your baby killing ass will be mine!!!” As Salt was finishing his Grammy award winning speech, a nurse came trotting in the room. Oblivious to the tension in the air she kindly asked, “How do you feel?”
Disgusted Creen said, “Take the IV out of me. I’m checking out!”
After leaving the hospital heavy hearted he was partially confused. His thoughts were distorted with Salt’s words, repeating in his mind, “A mother and her infant daughter!”….”Baby killer!”….He asked himself, ”It’s a crime at what time could ever be justified?” God damn it! Creen spent his entire life feeling he was one step from greatness. Now in Salts eyes he was everything that he in his entire life had always rightfully stood against. Creen asked himself, “Why does Salts opinion even matter?” He could not answer himself. But Creen does know he is affected by Salt’s words. Creen stepped onto th-e familiar Martha Bridge. Witch really was not a long bridge, nor was it all that high above the small lake it spanned across. Creen could have altogether taking a different way home but he liked visiting the old bridge. With a few steps on the bridge, a passing motorist yelled out his window. “Jump you Pussy!” (Creen thought welcome to Worcester.)
When he was about half way across the bridge, he painfully and carefully climbed over the guard rail. He sat himself at the edge of the bridge, where his feet could dangle over. He inhaled in some long deep breaths letting the fresh air flush out the rank smell of the hospital. The warm wind coming off the water blended harmonically in with the sound of the passing cars, Creen found it to be relaxing. It was places like this that is proof that this city provides him with everything he could ever need. The cool crisp mist seemed to Creen to be, natures heroin. But above all Creen found Martha Bridge to be one of the calmest places he could find to think. He had a lot to think about. First off he wanted to know, who it was standing over him in the alley. Who was it that made the call that saved his life? He cannot believe how fast things have spun out of control. Lives have been lost and many lives are on the line! He fully understands he is now at a fork in the road. He is a killer! But deep within he knew he had no choice. He could find Chocolate, find Crystal and take the next flight to Utopia, leave
this shit far behind him! But the people of the city look up to him. He needs to lead in example! But not like this! He clearly could feel the need for the change. It seems it’s time for the day dreaming to end and start the war he has been dreaming of his entire life. That is to remove the crack from Worcester altogether. The timing seems right. The Seven Aces are healthy and a living part of the city. He would need the right women to be his back bone.
Crystal is everything he needs aside her and his addictions. He has never tried to sober himself before. But he has no doubts about how to do it. He has no doubt that Crystal will do anything for him. But he must not let himself be affected by emotion rather than reason. He looked down at the water, staring down at the same reflection he sees in every reflection. Steve, Ricci, and Ronny staring back at him. Creen understands the world calls it, “Multiple personality disorders!” However, Creen feels differently and it might be hard for others to see or even to understand. But Steve, Ricci, and Ronny are very real and unmistakably they have a mind of their own. Case in point is a stressed sounding Ricci who analy yells, “Creen what the fuck happened in that apartment?”
In Creens other ear of irritation was Steve who jumps into the interrogation, “Creen tell us what happened!”
But Creen was more than hesitant to reveal any information. Both Ricci and Steve are yelling their questions because their venting from the frustration that came from Creen not letting them see what he had been up to on the day of the shootings. More so, Creen will have to figure out the best way to introduce Ronny to the both of them.
Not wanting to admit the reality Steve fearfully pleaded, “Just tell me we did not do what Salt said we did!”
“Creen tell me you did not!” Rapidly begged Ricci
Mockingly Creen answers, “It’s all the same, I say fuck the two of you!”
As Creen went to say his long time repeated catch phrase. Both Steve and Ricci simultaneously said it along with him, “We call it, in for a penny in for a pound!”
A spontaneous Ricci hastily yells, “Bullshit Creen!”
But it was Steve who caught on and knew Creen could never have done it alone. It was only after a short period of Steve combing and prodding through Creens thoughts that he finally asked, “Who the fuck is Ronny?”
The cat was out of the bag and Creen knew it was a start to a dilemma that was long overdue. “You can ask him yourself!” Revealed a discontent Creen
A confused Ricci asked, “What the fuck is going on?”
“We’ve been living with a fourth….Ronny!” Explained Steve in clear disapprovalIt was then that they first heard his dark crude voice as Ronny lazily muttered, “You two are so weak, I cannot believe we share the same body!”
Defensively Steve compassionately yelled, “Just because we value life! Especially a child’s life does not make us weak!”
Ronny arrogantly shouted, “Let’s be real! Neither one of you could not even fantasize about a decent enough thought for us to jerk off to!”
In a darker voice Ronny diabolically hissed, “You must see, Creen and me. We exist on a different plain! Don’t talk to me and I won’t talk to you!”
It was then; his voice was strangely familiar to the both of them. Then it became even more disturbingly clear to the both of them that Ronny has been around for quite some time.
Steve spit, “Spoken like a hard bitten fool!”
In a voice of hate Ricci erratically yelled, “Baby killer!!!”
. . .
Sixty six Chat tam Street in apartment six, Creen sits at his living room table staring down at the fiend crumbing on his floor. She is naked sweating and waiting on his every word. But to Creen this fiend was different from all the others. Her name is Crystal and she possesses something rare. So rare in fact that after Melissa had passed. Creen could never before muster up any feelings near love, for anyone. He has been slow to admit that he longs to hold a women again, to be held again. But his true lust is to live in a crack free city….a crack free life.
Spoken like an alarmist Steve asked, “What are you doing Creen?”
Creen anticipated this from Steve. He answered, “You know exactly what I am doing.”
Ricci and Ronny remained silent; they only listened to Steve and Creen talk. Neither one of them had anything to add. It’s clear to them their lives are quickly changing into something they have no control of. Steve gave Creen the riot act and sneered, “It’s time you understand that it’s above you! It’s above us!”
Creen agitatedly chuckled to himself. Halfheartedly he said, “You know we can make a change.” “How do we do that Creen?” Asked Steve in distress
Creen did not answer him when he knew Steve did not fully understand the dire extent that Creen is ready to go to, to do what needs to be done.
Cautiously Steve tried to be strategic and ventured, “After all the time we’ve spent in the library reading. Don’t you see history will repeat itself! Remember reading the book Animal Farm? Of all the people Hitler killed, Stalin killed millions more, his own people!”
Creen shrugged off the conversation and stared at Crystal. Who seems to be perfect for him? He felt goose bumps and it became clear she was another turn in the screw making him more confident to move forward. Creen looks down at his fiend. Looking at her he can see how beautiful she is, even when she was certainly at her worst. Looking at her long blond hair birthed an unwanted memory from earlier that same week. It was when Creen was dropping off an ounce of crack at a small dealer’s apartment. When Creen stepped into the apartment he saw a girl sitting on the dealer’s couch. Like most girls in the city, Creen knew her very well. To his surprise her head was bald. Her entire head had been shaved and bcc’d. Creen asked the dealer what had happened to her. He confessed to Creen that he got tired and bored of her giving him blow jobs for hits.
For a single hit of crack the fiend shaved her entire head! Creen ran his own fingers through his own hair in frustration. He looked back down at Crystal. He was filled with disgust! He was turned off by her willingness to give her darkened innocence to him. Because of Steve Melissa was always painfully in his thoughts! He wished someone could teach him how to move on! To somehow learn to forgive his self for sharing the most precious thing a woman has to give. What should have been cherished was flourished throughout their sickness. Creen whispered to himself, “Pennies in the stem!” He slammed his fist on the table! In a flinch Crystal jumped back! Creen stares down at the spoon shaking on the table. Looking at the items on his table he is reminded of the table he seen in the kitchen of that dreaded apartment. On his table sat a spoon with a black bottom from a lighter. A syringe sat next to a glass of water. There were ten bags of heroin scattered around holding different stamped pictures on them. On one bag there was a blue bird stamped on it. On another there was a boat. Then there was a castle stamped on four bags. On the other four bags there was a weight lifters belt stamped on them.
Creens gun sat next to a plate that held some small pieces of crack.
The whole scene to him is becoming more frustrating. This table is for eating! A plate of food should be on his table and not plates of crack. The table was a grey color that matched the same color of his ugly carpets dull color of grey. The walls were painted a soft orange color that seemed to blend in with the cloud of smoke that floated around the room. Creen set his is eyes on his favorite chair. He can remember when he found it on Main Street mixed in with the city’s morning’s trash. Someone had left it to be thrown away. Creens never knew how to tell what is antique and what is not. But the chair looked to be very old, but very strong. He thought a chair like this was surely not made in any mass production. But rather that someone with a skilled hand carved it into its form. To someone it was simply an old rocking chair. But Creen instantly felt connected to it. It was heavy to carry home. But when he did get it home, he sanded down the brown stained wood. He then hand carved into it messages and symbols that the untrained eye would never understand. Then he had a professional come in and treat the wood properly to get it to its stained dark cherry red color, making every symbol and every carefully placed word stick out.
Creen walked over to his favorite chair and sat in it. He started to rock himself back and forth. Crystal was looking at him with question in her eyes. He nodded his head in a yes fashion and watched her climb into the chair at the head of the table. She reached over taking a hit of crack off the plate.
Creens attention fell on the thought of Salts words repeating in his head again, “Baby Killer!” The thought brakes as he watched Crystal blow out a full lung of smoke and once again her eyes are glazed
over in a way that protects her from all the bull shit she was born into. If you were to take the time and listen to her cry you would see that every tear that falls are all drops of truth. If it was not Creen sitting there, one could throw a few pieces of crack on the floor and watch her crumb for days.
Creen thinks about the apartment building next to his, then about the one across the Street. He knows it’s going on across the city! He asked himself, “How many fiends in this city are holding a crack stem like the one he sees in Crystal’s hand! Tricks are being done for practically just a couple of hits.
The suburban scum fill our hotels while being entertained by our women, our children! Turning them into slaves with the crack that we sell to them! Children are being rented and sold! Sometimes he thinks if Melissa had never miss carried Lori, would he have let her grow up surrounded by this insanity. Crystal could feel the heavy eyes staring at her. She climbed off the chair and walked over to him. He stared at all of her as she walked. Her curves were full and Creen could never get over how her body makes him lust. Every time he has her attention she makes him hard. Crystal is not a short women, she has been given long legs holding up a small round white girl’s ass. Her breasts were more than a mouth full with small nipples that always seemed to be properly erect. The way her breast moved when she walked was something that Creen never seen before. When she was standing in front of him she leaned down to kiss him but he turned his head.
In a falling pitch Crystal cackled, “Heyyy!” “Holy halitosis!” Muttered Creen
In her defensive reaction Crystal asked, “Holyhala what?” “Your breath stinks!” Explained Creen shrewdly
Feeling slightly insecure she bashfully whispered, “I’m sorry baby, would you like me to brush my teeth?”
Creen quickly grabbed her and pulled her down onto his lap. She smiled at the sudden attention. “I want you to do more than that.”
He slightly spread her legs open. His mouth was close to her ear when he alluringly said, “I want you to shave it.”
She was running her soft fingers through his hair. Slightly insecure again she asked, “Baby I thought you told me you like a small landing strip?”
Aiding her Creen soothingly said, “I do, but from now on I want you to shave from your neck down.”
Crystal sensed a changed in him. She always wanted to move in with him. But he never would have it. For a long time now Crystal feared Creen would have chosen Chocolate to move in, instead of her.
Feeling optimistic she could not hide her smile as she asked, “Are you going to let me move in?”
“Yes, I think so. My life is changing and I need the right women to lead me. I would need you to stop the tricks, to stop smoking crack, and to stop using heroin and all drugs!”
Creen was rubbing her arms. She felt so good in them. He knew he has been missing companionship. In a tone of secrecy Creen said, “Crystal I am starting a war against crack, to remove it off our streets. I can’t do it like this! He put his hand on the inside of her leg absorbing its softness. She was staring into his eyes. She sounded somewhat iffy when she asked, “You are serious?” With a lip tight smile staring back into her sky blue eyes, he nodded his head yes and asked again, “Will you?”
Subconsciously she was trying not to breathe in his face when she answered, “You already knew the answer before you asked me.”
Passionately Creen evoked, “Maybe, but I need to hear it from you?”
Crystal could tell by his tone of voice he wanted her to come straight. Faithfully Crystal assured, “No more drugs, no more tricks.” More alertly she went on to say, “We will do it together. But there is something I want from you.” In-between her spoken words she was kissing his neck with her warm wet lips. She had awoken all of him as his hardness throbbed from the familiar feel of her lips. In the heat of their passion he vowed, “Anything!”
After that was said Crystal confessed she had her own wants. She had fantasized about asking him this question before tonight. But the words seemed to come harder than she thought they would come.
She could never seem to find how to tell him that her desire comes from his aspiration. But she manages to say, “I want a child, I want your child.”
He smiled in appreciation and said, of course; after we are sober I will give you one.” Creen looked over at the plate on the table. Challenging her Creen ordered, “Flush it!”
Crystal hesitated before she could register what she was just told to do. Without enthusiasm she misleadingly offered, “It’s worth money.”
On impulse Creen sternly demanded, “It stands against everything I want to stand for!”
Crystal stood up and grabbed the plate off the table. Creen was right behind her as she walked into the bathroom. Without any more hesitation she emptied that plates contents into the toilet and flushed it.
She handed the empty plate to Creen and airily asked, “OK?”
Using his right hand, Creen took the plate from her. He slammed It off the door jamb shattering it into pieces!!! Out of reflex Crystal flinched and screamed! In his clenched fist Creen held a jagged piece of glass! Using his left hand he slammed her back into a wall. Using his left forearm he had her pinned tight to the wall. The jagged edge of the glass was held tight to her throat!!! In scared heavy breaths she fearfully said, “I’m sorry!” They were face to face and in a voice that was on the edge of madness He roared, “I am ready to give anything and everything for this war! My eyes, my lips, my ears, and yes that does include you! This cause is above us! The future of our children depend on what we do when were given the
chance! I’ve been given the chance and I need a Woman who’s down! But you can be sure I’m done getting my dick sucked from confused little girls!”
Crystal did her best to look into his eyes and in a voice of adrenaline she assured, “Creen I could never imagine a life without crack. For the longest time I could always remember the first time I was raped. For so long I could remember how old I was, where I was. I could remember all the sick fucking things I was forced to do! But through all the years of pain and bullshit, things got mixed up together and I can no longer remember what was real and what was not! But one thing I swear to you! I can still remember the first time a pair of lips violated me while they were still warm from the heat of a crack stem! The taste and smell has forever lingered in my senses, forever haunting me!” Crystal took a hard swallow and tried to stare him in the eyes and in dire honesty she said, “Creen I asked you to father my child because I know you would not fail her. I am willing to give this cause anything and everything. I have two eyes to give; I have two ears and a nose to give! But I would rather choose death over losing my lips when I would no longer feel you kissing them!”
Creens grip loosened quickly. Flatly he said, “That’s very good!” He dropped the piece of glass.
Crystal wrapped her arms around him. Their foreheads touched, his eyes stared deep into hers. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was! But he has tough decisions to make and to stand by. Regardless of how Steve, Ricci, or he even himself liked it. He could only stare in apology as drops of truth fell from her face. Creen smiled and invitingly said, “Come on!” He took her to his bedroom and said, “Get on the bed.” While she was climbing on the bed he was digging through some drawers in a dresser. She was watching him curiously. She saw him holding a tattoo gun. He walked back into the bathroom and came out with a wet wash cloth. He said, “Lay on your back.” Creen plugged the gun into a small extension cord.
Almost sounding nervous she said, “I did not know you knew how to tattoo someone.”
Creen was pouring ink into a cap when he stated, “The shit we learn in prison!” Creen grabbed a razor out of his end stand and crawled on the bed with his gun and the cap of ink. He straddled himself over her stomach; he gently sat himself down on her stomach. He sat the gun and cap down and ran the razor across her upper cheek, directly under her eye.
Crystal was getting more nervous and asked, “You are going to tattoo my face?”
“Yes, so don’t move.” He softly cleaned her cheek off with the washcloth. After playing with his gun for a minute he started. When she first felt the needle, she found it not to hurt all the much. The odes thing to her was how loud the small gun actually was. Within five minutes Creen was done. He wiped off her cheek and said, “I have to run to the store. There is clean bedding on the dresser, change the sheets and take a shower, and Crystal make sure you brush your teeth.” Creen left and Crystal walked over to the bedrooms dresser mirror. She whispered, “What the hell?” As she seen Creen tattooed an arrow on her cheek!
When Creen returned from the store, Crystal was just getting out of the shower. He went into the bedroom to put away the groceries he had bought for them. Walking into the bedroom the
welcome smell of her washed body smothered the room. The smell of her instantly brought back a memory of when he was in jail at the Worcester house of correction taking a bird bath in his cell. He was housed in maxi upper right and in the open barred cells one could smell your neighbor’s hygiene. After his bath his neighbor asked if Creen had just bathed. Creen said yes and his neighbor said it smelled like a women. Creen thought the same thing every time he smelled it. Then he felt something he has not felt in a long time, the feelingly of not being alone. Creen has always kept a small refrigerator in his bedroom. Ultimately Creen chose this apartment to live in because the bathroom connects to the bedroom. Creen had two shower heads installed in the remolded bathroom. He bought them all kinds of fruit and he made it a point to have plenty of orange juice to wash down the chocolate bars. He also purchased a book of baby names. Crystal was towel dying her hair.
Creen opened his safe and pulled out all the heroin and cocaine he had. He carried it into the bathroom. Crystal watched Creen in curiosity as he entered the bathroom. He started flushing it all into the toilet!
Crystal ran into the bathroom! “Creen what are you doing?” “You said you were down!”
Crystal was speechless for a moment until the moment of panic had come and gone. She burst out laughing and assured Creen, “You are out of your fucking mind!”
Creen went into the bedroom and emptied her purse on the bed. He grabbed all the needles and any other contraband he could find. Then he stormed into the living room. He cleaned off the table throwing it all in the trash, the bags of heroin, needles, and even the cotton; it all went into the trash. Creen left the bag in the kitchen then he went back into the bedroom, he closed the door and locked it. He turned the TV on and sat at the edge of the bed. Crystal was climbing on the bed when she asked, “Are we really going to kick heroin in the room?”
Creens silence said it all. She wanted to tell him there is easier way’s, like a detox center, or a prescription of suboxin. The anxiety and fear of what it was to kick heroin ran through her. She could not find the words to tell Creen something she knew he already knows. Then a feeling of belonging sprinkled a light of hope as she thought that it’s clear he chose to do this with her. In a sense Crystal felt like they were going to war together. Crystal asked Creen to lay with her. He slid off his shoes and crawled onto the bed. He nested his chest into the small of her back. She felt calm from feeling warm breaths on her neck. His knees comfortably rested into the back of hers. He wrapped his left arm around her thin waist. They laid there for a moment in a calm, quit, comfortable silence until Creen softly said, “I got something for you.” He reached behind himself then he reached over her and dropped the book of baby names in front of her. She snatched the book and opened it. Looking surprised at all the different names she asked, “How many different names are there?”
“A lot, but if you want I can choose one for you.”
She looked half back at him with a tight lipped smirk and shook her head no. Creen was using his left hand moving her beautiful blond hair out of her face. He softly kissed the back of her shoulders while he softly ran his fingers down her ribbed cage. His eyes followed his fingers every touch. In