BANG CLAP POW

 

BANG

CLAP

POW

 

 Written by 

Joseph Jedidah 

Edited by

Kemi Fontaine

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

copyright 2025 Joseph Jedidah

cover photo Joseph Jedidah

cover design Kemi Fontaine

photography Kemi Fontaine

All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced

or used in any manner whatsoever without the press written 

permission of the publisher except for brief quotations 

in a book review.

more information

Don't make me run at you,

Wavin’ a gun at you,

crying to my mum and your mum

because I came and duppyed you

Wiley 

Chapter One: DETACHMENT

 

BANG

The sun begins to set, slowly turning from a deep blue, covered in a pattern of snow-white clouds, into a dark sand glow. It covers the sky as the sun falls further away, the transition of day turning into night has begun. The darkness pours into the atomsphere, like a french cognac filling up a glass. The emergence of stars in the vast dark, illuminating the night canvas with the specks of lights on the ground, brightening up the quiet street. The evening creeps up on a residential street in the borough of Newham, East London, an old street that has existed since the Victorian period, a place that has a hundred stories for a hundred years. So much life and so many souls that touch those stoney cobbles. A street sign with the name Knife End in black letters on an egg white rectangular background, on a corner in front of a three-inch grey brick wall. Outside of a house with a big charcoal door, white painted walls and a dark maroon coloured roof. Inside of the home resides a typical family, following their individual routines as the day comes to an end. The family is settling down in their own spaces, occupying different sections of the house like a coalition between states with agreed borders. A middle-aged Father named Archer “Archie” Robinson, is watching the evening news broadcast on his television set. He has a one level haircut, with thick snowy hair similar to a polar bear. With a salt and pepper beard, covering  the front and under his chin, along his jawline. In his modest living room, the walls are painted in mint green, with framed pictures, oil paintings of landscapes and meadows as well as African caribbean art. Archie is slumped in his velvet sage coloured one arm chair, holding his hands together on top of his bulging stomach. His fingers entwined, with his index fingers pressed together pointing outwards and thumbs pressed together pointing upwards. The host of the News broadcast, a mature East Caribbean, brown skin woman named Clare Ruby. She has a small afro of curly jet-black hair, like lamb wool, shining from hair products and the lighting in the broadcast studio. Her makeup, dark noir eyeliner with a light brush of eye shadow and dark purple lipstick. She reports globe news of a shooting that happened in an American high school called North Bush High School, located in the state of California. She states " it was reported that two teenagers have died from their wounds and three other students have received serious injuries. Another very tragic event in suburban America, our hearts and prayers go out to the victims of this dark day". Archer then grabs the black rectangular remote controller from the arm of his chair. Pointing the remote at the TV and continues to search through channels, to find a programme to his satisfaction. While surfing through the many channels, he finally finds a programme to meet his liking. Sweeney Unit, a dramatisation of a police investigation conducted by the Metropolitan armed unit, Flying Squad. It is a fast paced, high octane shoot 'em up show, with the cliche structure of the old school veteran detective named Reagan being mentor to his partner named Carter, a reckless and arrogant young upstart. 

Archie remembers watching this same show as a boy, introduced to it by his Father years before. Nostalgic memories like a chain hooked around his eternal soul, from boyhood to his middle ages. Upstairs of this resident, is a teenage girl named Brandy. Her hair, gelled down with aloe vera compressing her high volumed texture, contained with two faux silk violet hair bands into bunny tails, wearing baby blue shorts, cut high above the thigh and a white crop top, showing off her tiny belly, popping out like a small pouch. In her bedroom, she lays on her king size bed, her stomach pressed on the scarlet duvet. Behind her, just above the head stand of her double bed, was a large poster of a recording artist, a lyricist and vocalist named Corey Caine. The image of him, standing topless, with a plethora of tattoos on his slim toned body with a prominent image of an AK 47 tattoo on the left side of his chest, wearing a double black and brown gun holster strap. She has polka dot ankle socks on, kicking her tiny feet in the air casually, as she comfortably lounges while gossiping on the phone with her friend, Jane who has a soft spoken voice like a cartoon mouse. The two girls are speaking about the rumours surrounding a shooting that happened outside a nightclub called RELOAD, on a wednesday night. During a popular rave event, one of their friends attended. “I heard  one of the boys was from the Corporation block as well. Apparently it was all over this guy Cali seeing this other guy’s girl Nina, behind his back” says Jane. "It's the same typical thing, one guy bangs another guy's girl and pretty soon they're fighting over it. Only this time, someone got shot because of it" replies Brandy.” "Yeah well, whoever was doing whatever that's their business. But poor Missy caught a stray in her sheen. She was screaming to high heaven, they said to me" Jane explains. “Gosh, a bullet that sounds horrible, that’s stupid why don’t they just fight instead of causing a mess at a party?” Brandy says. “I heard the bullet that came from Missy’s leg, was from a 38 calibre” Jane says,”38 calibre? Look I dunno nuthin about guns, all I know is dat they go bang” Brandy says, they both giggle. “I heard about another story aswell, about some guy called Shotti or something” Jane says. “yeah what happened” asked Brandy?  “Well apparently, he was chilling in his place or whatever then he gets a call”, says Jane. “A call, he gets called, what on his phone. Who called him, telling him what” asked Brandy. “Well apparently, he gets a call saying that there was beef outside or whatever” says Jane. “Someone came outside to beef him” asked Brandy? “Yeah I guess, so they said he grabs his gun and runs out the door and while he’s rushing down the stairs in his building, he’s gripping the handle in the front of the waist in his jeans. He was rushing so much, he accidentally pulled the trigger” Jane explained, “oh my god what” gasped Brandy. “Yeah, he shot his dickhead off is what they said, fell straight on the second floor landing, flat on his face crying for help” said Jane. “Oh my gosh, oh damn, that is peak, that is horrible, oh no, oh gosh, what a dickhead thing to do” Brandy exclaimed. “Well not no more” stated Jane, the two cracked up laughing their cackling voices sound like static on the phone line.

In another bedroom there is a teenage boy, going by the gamer name Eastwood 44 Magnum, on his online gaming account. He is seated in his black and red, faux leather recliner gaming chair. In front of his widescreen monitor, with his game console positioned on the floor under his desk. He is playing a shooting game called Call of Order, wearing big black headphones blasting music into his ears as he plays.The song titled Cock Back by Terrah & Hitman Hype is his soundtrack to his virtual reality warring, "in East London We cock back, In South London We Cock Back '' Eastwood recites. This song plays loud, as he is fully focused on the shooting of virtual soldiers in his fantasy war, seeing a hundred points in a green neon flashing image on the screen, when the target hits. Each kill gives him a dose of adrenaline and endorphins, his pupils widen as he hits every mark. Over his head and on his face is a polyester dark camouflage balaclava. Also sporting a black tee shirt with a symbol of the rock band Guns n Roses imprinted on it. The item was given to him as a gift from his Auntie, he never heard of the band or their music but he enjoyed the artwork and especially the name. While the game was paused, on arcade mode, he entered his account and selected the online shop option on the interactive video game. Within the shop option, he uses game credit, purchased digitally with actual monetary funds from his bank account, functioning as tokens in a funland park. He is able to buy clothing, specialised equipment and weaponry for his virtual avatar. He enters the weapons category, a list displaying nine squares with a dark animated background appears on the screen, each square is labelled. He chose the square labelled assault rifles.  His eyes scan the screen like a laser on a 3D printer. He analyses his choices, the assault rifles listed vertically in formation, M16A4, AK - 47, M4A1, F2000 and AUGA3. The dopamine levels rise in his body as he adds different rifles to his trolley like a child in a pick n mix shelf. 

Down the hallway is the smallest bedroom of them all. Similar to a cube with a small single bed situated in the corner, perfectly adjacent to a cinnamon coloured wardrobe combined with a tooth white chest of draws. In another corner, there is a small square shaped maroon cabinet with open shelves. The toys on the shelves are positioned in poses like a gallery displaying clay sculptures from an ancient era. Optimus Prime, a Transformer figurine, a Storm Trooper action figure from the Star Wars saga, positioned opposite each other, as if they were prepared to engage in battle. Children books and hardback graphic novels, all categorised and in alphabetical order and a neatly, horizontally stacked collection of comic books. The square room is assembled in a precise manner, uncluttered with designated areas. Inside the room is a seven years old infant child, a particular little boy with a perfect fade haircut. The baby brother of the two siblings, named Pete, regularly called  Petey Pea by his mother. Pete sits at the end of his bed on the crimson coloured wool carpet, with his legs crossed, wearing a polyester sweater with red and black stripes, his head hanging downward like a drooping flower bud on a thin stem, with a comic book on his lap. 

Fully entrenched in his latest issue, he is quietly reading a comic titled the adventures of Veteran Kingdom. The front cover with bold letters in a modern font, with a drawing of the main character, tall, wearing muscular body armour and holding up two pistols. One in each hand, with an intense furious expression on his face. A super soldier that goes on missions, to save the world against an evil villain called Oppenheim. Every issue Oppenheim attempts to take over the world by threatening world leaders and governments, to blow it up with an atomic bomb or a super ray gun, two of his most prized lethal devices. Every time his plans are thwarted by Veteran Kingdom invention. Pete loves this comic, always asking his parents to grab a new issue especially when he is passing the corner shops and small supermarkets with them. Looking up at the selection on the shelves, pulling on either parents’ garment to gain their attention. For that brief significant moment, raising his arm with a tiny hand, opened palm in the direction of the desired publication with a soft voice uttering “Can you get this for me, please” says Pete. He enjoys the drawings and colouring of the comic book, fully absorbed in the world of spies and soldiers, drifting off in a wonderland of excitement and victory. His eyes scanning the page with delight and pure fascination, reading the words in the dialogue bubble, his mouth moving as he reads. He mumbles these words, "Kingdom spins around to face the mercenaries rushing towards him, he pulls out his weapons, Bang Bang Pow." Pete read. 

Chapter Two: DESENTISTATION 

CLAP

Outside in the evening air all around in the wholesome community. Near the family home of a legendary boxer from twenty years ago, named Bobby The Hitman Hines. Further, a few more steps up the street, was the stomping ground of a former notorious hood from two decades ago, they called him Benjamin Bumba Lloyd. He was an infamous arm robber from the area. So many tales of celebrity and infamy born right on that quiet street. Metres away from the Robinson residence and the little box room of the little brother in his little world of heroes and villains. There are three preadolescent friends who are returning to their homes. They are coming back from the West Way shopping centre, a symbol of the matrimony of western capitalism and consumerism. The eternal rat race of consumers, using their time working to spend their earned money on luxury things, from luxurious places to satisfy a meaningless need.  The three rascals spent the day gallivanting about  the main streets and parade of shops on this summer’s day. The day started with each of them meeting up to explore around the borough, from sheer curiosity, abundance of youthful energy and boredom. One of them is a boy named Roscoe, who wanted to use the pocket money he had saved from his birthday, given to him from his close older relatives and some of it from a portion of his lunch money. He had the money to purchase a videogame named Mobland III Sin city. A fictional gaming experience created by Rock Band Inc. The plot explores powerful crime families, ruthless drug cartels, violent and chaotic street gangs, lethal and frightening  assassins and a rogue criminal wanting revenge against the people who betrayed him. The rogue character who is the protagonist, named Walker. Walker is hired by the Solomon crime family to carry out a heist with his trusted crew. After the escape, the items for Solomons were separated from the take.Then  Walker was double crossed by his partners, shot and left for dead. Having survived, he heals from his wounds and goes on a rampage against his former comrades, stepping on many toes and creating many problems for the players in Sin City. Roscoe loved this game, receiving the first game Mobland I Crime Alley as a birthday gift from Father. Who was scarce in the little boy’s life due to separation of his parents and his father’s demanding occupation as solicitor. He was romanced by the story of vengeance, enchanted by the magic of animated graphics and seduced by extreme violent action. A girl named Milli, wearing a tee shirt with a Iron Man comic book cover print on it. She loves this marvel comic character, the most out of the whole fictional universe. She gravitated to the idea of a suit that could turn you into a machine. The concept of putting on a suit that gives you the ability to fly through the sky, to fly into space, with missile launchers in your forearms, fire blasters in the knuckles of your fists and an atomic cannon in the chest of the suit. All made from indestructible armour. 

Iron man was a perfect fictional comic figure to Milli, he was an ideal super hero that could exist in real life. 

Fighting against terrorists threatening innocent people and creating catastropes, by simply flying over to them and blowing them up at their bases. Also fighting invading villainous aliens trying to conquer the planet earth, by blasting them away with an atomic cannon, turning them into dust. Iron man could do it all, the suit could do it all. She watches every cartoon, anime, collecting pictures and posters of artwork, buying clothing with the Iron Man imprint. Iron Man inspired Milli to want to become a fighter pilot when she becomes an adult, flying through the sky like Iron Man. The two kids are with another girl named Shelly, wearing a navy blue Arsenal truck cap, with a white cannon with a red outlined logo in the centre, her ponytail of thick silk curls, poking out of the back. She was bought this hat by her older brother. He was an arsenal supporter and she inevitably followed suit. She lived with a small family, a mother and brother, although the two siblings were close they were always apart, due to their gap in age and the fact her Brother was continuously outside of the house. Her Mother was around, however, she had an active social life, Milli would spend a lot of time at her Aunt's home and with family friends. A quiet but curious young lady who drank in the world with her big hazel eyes, quick to grasp matters she encountered with a mischievous thirst to see more and learn more. Roscoe and Shelly met up at the corner shops at the end of her road, they collected Milli from home and the two girls followed Roscoe on his shopping pursuit that day. After the day is done, now Shelly skips along a white painted line in the middle of the road.  While Roscoe bounces a basketball walking alongside on the right side of her and Milli walks on the left. Mumbling lyrics from a song she heard earlier at her house, while eating rice pops at the dining table ”pow pow I shot you down, pow pow, my baby shot me down” Milli recites. After the day of excavating around the packed gaming shops, chicken spots and lively local parks. Still feeling restless, they start to mess around, running and circling each other, holding up their arms vertically, in the form of firearms. Pointing their thumbs up and their index fingers outward, pretending to be soldiers in a fire fight. They run around the parked cars imagining that they’re shields for cover, mimicking characters in guerrilla warfare surrounded by rubble and damaged buildings. Roscoe walks in the middle of the road, Shelly runs on the pavement on the left hand side, bobbing up and down sighting Roscoe. Milli is on the right side of the road, kneeling down, slow crouched steps towards the end of the parked cars. Shelly rises up and rushes towards Roscoe. Her arm is extended out in his direction, hand jerking back to simulate the kick back reflex from a gunshot.  Roscoe sees Shelly rushing towards him, so he starts running in her direction, zig zagging in the middle of the road with Shelly mirroring him. Milli, still  behind the parked car, blowing her braids out of her face. She sees Roscoe and Shelly running towards each other and pops up  "bang bang bang" Milli says. Roscoe turns to see Milli coming from behind the parked car, completely distracted, facing her direction. 

Shelly quickly skips up to him, while his back is turned and he’s not paying attention to her.  Pointing her finger at the back of his head "Pow, you are dead now" says Shelly. “Head shot, I got you” says Shelly, Roscoe turns to Shelly and shrugs “Nah, I gotta helmet, the bullet ricocheted off it says Roscoe. Clap, clap, clap, clap, each bullet went through your tin cap” Shelly says and cackles. "Pow, pow, pow you both are dead on the ground" Milli says, "Shut your mouth, you ain't got us" Roscoe says, "You can't speak anymore you're dead”  laughs Milli. "The bullet grazed me and I survived, bang" says Shelly. 

The basketball slips from Roscoe's grip, as it bounces away to a Bristol bullet car, at the edge of a corner. Roscoe chases after it to retrieve the ball, Milli and Shelly follow behind, Roscoe gets to the ball, standing by the car with the Spalding ball just at his feet, he picks it up then suddenly a loud noise "POW". The sound echoes from the distance. The loud sound spreads across the street catching the trio in its grasp. The three kids freeze still, a cold chill shoots up their veins causing them to be stagnant. Their little feet glued to the ground, staring at each with an expression of complete shock and bewilderment. They remain very still, as if they were trying to pause in the moment, to further prolong some imminent doom that fills the air. Shelly’s curiosity gets the best of her, she gulps and begins to walk towards the loud noise to investigate, Milli and Roscoe watch on with great concern. They look at each other, procrastinating on what to do next. Roscoe looks down for a moment, he grips his basketball firmly under his arm. Milli starts trailing Shelly to catch up with her, then Roscoe follows. The three of them walk to the other side of the road.There is a car park in front of a block of flats called Corporation Avenue. They quickly scurry to hide behind a long silver Volvo and peek at the scene. They watch from a distance, a person lying on the ground and another person standing over them. The trio was too frightened to make a sound, their hearts pumping raucously in their little bird chests. As the night gets dark and all the joy from the sun and the wonder from the clear sky has gone away, leaving the indigo glow, delivered by a blue moon and the haunting beams from the shady street lamps. Now all that is left is the night and what frights, so the three kid's playtime is over.

Chapter Three: DISENCHANTMENT

 

POW

 

When the one rain drop falls, then a shower starts to pour and all is lost in the flood. The familiar tale of insecurity, envy and a young impulsive mind, culminating in an act of serious violence from an unintentional step. Tragedy befalls the young, stupid dreamers, who fall from the height of their fantasy, crash to reality from floating to close to the glowing gleam of a starry dream, levitating to heavens of hope then falling into the pit of hopelessness.There is a young man, mahoney complexion, smooth youthful face, with thick jet black eyebrows above two big brown eyes like pools of dark cocoa, tall with a slender built, gliding with the wind, embodied the flow of life in front of him. A cheeky chap, a playboy always playing named Dotty with an infectious smile, that is so uniquely fitting to his persona, it is almost a birth mark instead of action. He lives six minutes away from the very same block “Corporation Avenue”, where he fell. Six shots were held in the chamber of the weapon that shot him, six chances, he only needed to be caught once and that’s what happened once the weapon went off. All in a moment, one single moment. Living in a modest little house with his Mother Bebe, a short fluffy shaped woman like a soft cuddly toy, a round smile like a half moon and mousey eyes behind round framed glasses similar to tiny gems in the face of two luxury watches. She usually either was curled up on her sofa watching a detective drama, an inquisitive protagonist investigating a crime, using the clues to capture the culprit. Or lounging in her bed with a book telling the simple story of romance and adventure. The younger Sister Toya, her long soft cotton wool textured hair, styled into two long plaits, resembling black foxtails, reaching her shoulders. She has a cheeky smile similar to her brother, with small beady kitten-like eyes that twinkle in the light. Mostly, the child entertained herself, learning the dance routine from her current favourite girl group, CLEOPATRA. She would spend hours dancing in front of her mirror as the music played, mimicking every motion, trying to master each step and fully embody the rhythm of the song. Earlier in that promising Friday, where the time for relaxation and stimulating activity had begun. He finished his media classes at Berners Academy college, running through the automatic doors with glee, showered with the sunshine, symbolizing his freedom for the weekend. Dotty bumps into his friend, who decides to give a lift back to his area. Before going straight home, Dotty was sitting in a passenger seat of a chrome coloured Ford Puma, resembling a silver bullet. Smoking amnesia weed with his friend named Rick, a pale face young man, with freckles, a translucent thin moustache, chin hair and frizzy curly brown locks. Both of them were exchanging bars, going back to back, while a grime instrumental played on the car stereo.

“Like Hennessy, i'll be giving out shots,

 shots, shots,shots,shots.

Like R9, i’ll be taking shots,

shots, shots, shots, shots.

shots on on my line and 

I call the shots,

Big batty gyal, nuttin but back shots.

Aim and lock, target locked,

Hundred points when I hit those shots” recited Dotty

“Spinner on the ting,

make the ting go bang.

see em all spin, when the ting goes pow.

bad chick, sexy ting gets bang,

see her wild out, when she gets that pow.

they all wanna know how the ting goes bang,

but they all cry out, when the ting goes pow” recited Rick

Now, at this very moment, the cosmos speaks in its unspoken language, unveiling all the signs that are shown to the unconvinced eyes, the vast sentient universe calling out to unassuming ears. Thirty minutes after Rick drives off, leaving his friend, who was about to walk home. Standing there in the car park, looking at his phone, clearing his head due to the weed smoke, just passing the time casually in a small dimension of his own algorithm. In a brief state of trance until the air properly spikes his senses, giving him clarity. Then Dotty is laid flat, flat on his back with the shock to his body becoming the commander of every joint, every organ and every nerve he possesses. With a burning piece of lead in his stomach. Dotty, a class clown, a community joker who enjoys partying and bullshit, drinking and smoking. The prince of playtime, a modern day Dionysus, his god given gift to the world was his aura, the alignment of his sakuras, exuding a vibrant energy, the spirit of summer all year round. Now lying on the rough coarse concrete, his body stiff as a nail on the hard-cold cobbles. A big soaking wet blood stain on his grey Nike tracksuit jacket like ink spilled on paper. A bullet hit him in his abdomen from a gun that went off. The shock stunted his focus momentarily in a dazed state and adrenaline blocked the pain but not for long. Following after the adrenaline rush subsides, the pain surges through his body like a roaring cold water wave crashing onto the jagged rocks of a mountain coast of an island in winter. The sudden sting crawled its way up to the point of significant realisation. Immense agony crushing at his very soul overcomes him. Too painful to scream, too painful to call out for help, the burning metal embedded in his belly, tears flowing from his eyes, he cries without making a single sound but a weary whimper and hyperventilating, sucking in short breaths with a sharp, weakened gasp. All of this is the result of shame and desire, the same old tale of boys having conflict over sensitive ego. Bullheads not knowing what to do with the hormones inside them barking in their bodies, pulling at the veins and bones, forever crying out in their brains for satisfaction, stimulation and peace. Tragedy and foolishness is always the conclusion. Round, round we go, broken heart after broken heart. Young love and young obsession. There was a girl named Nina, curly dark hair with slender legs, roasted honey shade, small perfectly sculpted face with a tiny chin, plumps lips resembling blooming rose petals, wavy hair, ripples in the textures like ribbons of silk, glowing hazel coloured arched eyes and little pretty feet, toes like precious pearls found in the crystal waters of a tropical sea. She always shows off her pedicures in her sandals. Nina had a wonderful smile, like the sun rising over a clear blue ocean. She had many admirers, she is perfect in so many people’s eyes, especially to Drake. Drake, a shy introverted young man, slim built with thick sable eyebrows and a small wool afro, smooth beige soft face. Drake enjoys graffiti artwork, forever drawing cartoons and comic book characters like Punisher and Veteran Kingdom. The first day of college, Drake was unbearably nervous, sitting in a far corner of a common room in a college induction. He avoided eye contact, had his head down and kept drawing. While he was lost in his own space he heard her voice, "hello" he looked up and saw her, so he replied "hello" and then she asked “ what are you drawing" ? Drake lifts up the paper to show his drawing, he was shading a sketch of tomb raider, "that's really good, you're talented" she says, "thank you" Drake replies. "My name is Nina" and that was the beginning of his admiration after she paid him a little attention.

She made Drake feel included, he felt noticed and the bonus is that she was a pretty, cute and an affable girl. After that day, Drake became infatuated with her; they occasionally talked, whenever they were around each other, class, by a bus stop or in a shop. It was the world to Drake, pure sunshine that only shined on him. He would fantasize about her, stalking her social network accounts, drawing her many times using her photos, recreating every feature of her from the colours of eyes and grooves on her face. He was keeping all of these art pieces in a folder under his bed. He was obsessed with her. But one Thursday evening, while being on the internet shattered that fantasy. He sees something on Facebook, she was tagged in a video of her at a house party, where she was dancing with Dotty, Dotty dancing with her from behind, his hands on her hips and waist, his face by her neck and her looking jovial and excited. Drake was heartbroken. Dotty, a booming energetic individual, while the quiet and awkward Drake, in college who found it difficult to express himself, was left in the dark again. Dotty was the total opposite, it seemed effortless for him, Drake would see Dotty around in Media class, see his aura, see his confidence, he bounced with every step as if he defied gravity, just skipping through the air. Drake envied that. On a dull Tuesday afternoon, in media class, Dotty who     occasionally teased people, in a harmless manner, cracked banter on Drake in class,  "you draw girls but you don't draw girls blud, ha ha ha, jokes still" says Dotty with harmless intention and only in jest never spite. However, Drake didn't really enjoy the interaction, he wasn't quick thinking or witty enough to make comebacks, making him feel just ridiculed without reaction. He felt embarrassed, dropping his head looking away with a feeble smirk. Drake’s mind was clouded in pain, he pulled out the folder containing the drawings of Nina and tore them up. Ripping them to shreds, he took the pieces to his back garden, threw them in a steel bucket. Pulling matches out from his pocket  and sets the pieces on fire. Watching them burn, his eyes watery and tearing watching the hours of devotion burning in flames. All of his desires are up in smoke, no more hope, no more, just the hurt, the flame and emptiness of the night. The next night Drake lies on his single bed staring up at the ceiling. A pit in his stomach that feels like a black hole in his soul, aching him, every breath he takes. He wished to be a better version of himself. Someone strong, charismatic and a person that the boys would admire and the girls would desire, or maybe just the one girl, Nina.  Why couldn't Nina see him as the one for her, who would he have to be? What would he have to do?  But all hopes of that were destroyed by Dotty. Drake felt crushed by a joke, because it wasn't the joke, the joke was nothing. It was about the truth in the joke, So, the real joke was him. He begins to look around his room, his cloud coloured painted walls are patterned with these posters of anime comics like Death Note, his own artwork of comic book characters, a painting he did of Black Widow, a large poster of Shellz Shabazz and childhood photos, from when he was a baby and young infant. 

Every photo has his smile in it, which, every time he sees it, is so unfamiliar to him. How could he have ever been this happy, the notion just seemed strange to him. His mother Maggie calls out, "Drake, you're dinner ready, you wanna come down and grab it" she says, Drake sighs, while he lifts himself off his bed, he walks to the room door, cracking it open slightly and replies "Thank you mum, I'm not hungry right now, I'll come and get it later, thank you". 

He goes back and leans on the window seal, he peers outside of his window. It's so quiet, barely a noise, just a whisper of a wind breeze. As he looks out, he notices a hooded figure dressed in all black sportswear. He sees the face and it appears to be a person named Cali, bronze complexion with arched eyebrows that had a slit through the left one. Cali, a young adult man who is local to the area. He had a shiny dark little thing in his hand, it was a handgun. Wrapped up in plastic and he stashes it in the bushes by steel bins opposite Drake’s home, on Shooters avenue. Cali looked around the area, to see if anyone was watching. 

WEDNESDAY NIGHT RELOAD - FOAM PARTY 

We travel back to dire Wednesday night, the catalyst of Cali’s current dilemma. A foam party event, girls wearing their bikinis, guys fashioning  their swim trunks surrounded by foamy bubbles being extinguished from several machines, positioned at specific ends of the club hall. The girls wearing heels and sandals, the guys wearing trainers and sliders, acting like north london was miami by the bay. Mainly a student night, however, the event was very popular, a variety of characters would attend for the experiemce. Cali , was one of those characters joining in the club offerings for that night. He was wearing a  custom navy blue polo tracksuit with a thick white stripe from his shoulder down his arms. He stands eight feet away from the club entrance. The semicircle RELOAD sign flashing in neon lights, each letter protruding a subtle white beam with a lilac background. Cali casually conversing with UZI, a female friend, she has a slender, athletic form like a bronze statue of an ancient beauty. Her figure complementing her small pretty face, with petite prominent high cheekbones and cheeks slightly sucked inward, together with a small chin and tiny dimple in the centre of it. Other attendees of the night congregate outside as the whole vibe whines down to an end, appearing like a flock of tropical birds in a rainforest, their outfits like a multicolour clash of bright flamboyant feathers. People get ready to jump in a cab, a car then jump into their beds or someone else. A simple character named Remi stands by a red polo, smoking a spliff and drinking a dragon stout, with his friend Clipper who is sitting in the driver’s seat. Remi scopes Cali menacingly from a distance, an expression of disdain on his face  as he gulps down on his bitter beverage, the smoke still in his lungs seeping through nostrils. He finishes the bottle, chucking it to the ground, he storms towards Cali’s direction. Cali still glee from the night festivities ,oblivious to Remi’s ill intent approaching him. Remi conjured a small speech in his mind to chastise and intimidate Cali. 

He stands in front of Cali, while Cali continues conversing with Uzi, discussing  what they planned to do next. He calls out “you trying to make a fool out of me, you know Nina, you bothering Nina” barked Remi. Cali, perplexed at the hostile intrusion, for a few seconds he stares at Remi, quickly trying to analyse the situation, he replies “what’s going on”? asked Cali. “Nina, you know her, you was dancing with her yeah, feeling on her and that” sharply replied Remi. “My guy, I don't know what you’re talking about, it's a party, I mean what is it to you anyway g”? replied Cali. “That’s my girl bruv, I’m her boyfriend, it's everything to me” says Remi. Cali stands befuddled, eyebrows raised onto his front head, then he just shrugs his shoulders. “Look, man, it's a party, everyone was dancing with everyone, everyone is blowing off steam my guy, chill” says Cali. Remi, enraged, swings his fist at Cali, who dips and counters with a left hook, knocking Remi on his bottom in front of a crowd of girls and Uzi. They all gasped simultaneously then burst out in laughter. Remi rapidly ruffles to his feet and scurries away like a mouse squeezing through a crack in the wall. Back to the polo, he bangs on the driver’s window, Clipper startled, winds down the window. “Gimme the ting” says Remi, “but it blanks blud” Clipper says. "It doesn't matter, send it to me," replies Remi, Clipper reluctantly hands him the replica. “Be careful with that, it's for my guy’s music video”. Cali is still standing by the entrance flirting with Uzi. When suddenly he notices Remi standing in front of him again, only this time, he’s pointing some type of pistol dead on sight, right on target, with him in the range of the shot. Uzi, scared and shaken, begins to step back behind Cali, stepping further and further away, Cali stands frozen scared, holding his right arm out, palm facing Remi. “Whoa, whoa, chill, dont, just chill man” says Cali, “fuck you” says Remi. Remi fires three times then runs away. The noise causes the group to run and the stampede over each other. One girl’s heel stabbing into the sheen of another girl who fell due to the frenzy. Uzi fell straight to the ground on her knees, covering her head with her hands. Cali just stands there staring into the abyss. 

The experience had shaken Cali to his very core, causing him to make the decision to contact an estranged uncle named Buck. One of the black sheep of the family, the bad cousin to his Mother, Buck was known as an ominous person, who dealt in serious criminal business. After a brief reflection sitting sullen on the side of his bed and ultimately the incredible feeling of vulnerability, he got in touch with his Uncle the very next night. Cali received the contact details from a close cousin, who set out to grab the information from another cousin who was still associated with Buck. When passing on the details Cali’s Cousin, named AK strongly advised against getting involved with this family member. Due to Buck’s associations, the possibility of Cali being dragged into a dark world or him doing something regretful, that will evidently end in calamity. “Don’t let what happened change you cuz” said AK, “I gotta do sumtin cuz, you weren't there, you didn't feel it” replied Cali. And so it all unfolds, Cali calls Buck, after a few words exchanged an arrangement is made. Cali travelled to his Uncle’s flat in an estate located in the neighbouring borough. Knocking on the door, a short young platinum blonde girl, her hair  in a ponytail, held upwards with a pink polyester scrunchy headband. Her hair would swing with each movement she made, like the tail of a mare galloping through evergreen plains. She is around seventeen years old, with small cherry pouting lips and two big wide crystal blue eyes like a disney princess. She stands for a minute looking at him, with her head tilted to the left side, Cali asks “Hey, hello, erm, is Buckingham here, I am his young nephew Cali asks. The girl sighs, nods and skips down the flat hallway, the front door wide open with Cali letting him inside. He follows her down the eerie hallway to the living room. The living room is filled with smoke, music playing from the entertainment set, a wide screen TV broadcasting an anime film. Perfected drawings in motion in an adult cartoon, a female android with a statuques figure, firm bosom and thighs, standing tall against a robotic machine with guns for arms. The young girl sits on a one arm chair on the left side of the TV, with pink nail polishes on her fingers and feet, both of her feet on the seat of the chair, wiggling toes while she smokes a glass pipe. Standing by the door, Cali sees his Uncle Buck sitting on a velvet dark emerald green chrome settee, smoking, next to a short stocky young man with a chubby baby face and hazel eyes. Nineteen years old, wearing a navy blue arsenal tracksuit and a cast wrap on his left leg. He’s weighing and bagging weed on an oval shaped glass coffee table in front of him. A large sack of marijuana with dusty lime and orchid buds falling from the sack, scattered on the table. Buck has a beige skin tone, five foot seven in height,  slick wavy thick curls on the top of his head, hair compressed and conditioned with gels and hair products, wearing a stone island sweater, bulging stomach popping out at the end of the garment.  “Come on boy, it's been years, it's been so many years” says Buck. The uncle gets up and walks up, two raised arms open out and embrace Cali with a hug. “Hello Uncle,” says Cali. After Buck releases him from the gripped greeting, he returns back to seat. “Come sit down nephew” said Buck, Buck sits and takes a long toke from his spliff staring at Cali, Cali very nervous, slowly walks to the corner of the sofa. Buck takes another long toke from his spliff, exhaling a stream of smoke from his lungs like a factory chimney. He turns to face Cali, his eyes beaming red, “So I heard you had some troubles boy” asked Buck “Yeah, there was an incident, some absolute madness, someone just out of nowhere got the drop on me” said Cali. “Got the drop on you”? Ha ha ha, laughed Buck, “ if they got the drop on you boy, you would be dead, I would be eating food on a paper plate at your funeral wake, ha ha ha. These boys out here nowadays, aint done no licks, never shot crack, ain't had no street fight, no real beef or proper problem, cha, kisses his teeth. These boys are punanni punaan, wet weeping vagina, but don't worry I got sumtin for you to show them boy. Yo, shotta go grab that ting for my nephew” said Buck. Buck taps the young man on the shoulder, Shotta shifts to the side of the sofa, reaching over grabbing a large plastic bag from the floor. He passes it to Buck, who chucks the bag into Cali’s hands. “ Never mind Shotta over here, he just moody, ediat bwoy dun clapped himself in the leg running down the fucking stairs”, Buck says cracking laughter as he says it. Shotta just shakes his head and kisses his teeth. 

Cali accidentally giggles along, then Buck immediately stops laughing and stares at Cali who promptly straightens up. “This is serious business nephew, now do you have the thing for me” asked Buck, Cali blinking wildly, uneasily searching through his pockets to grab the parcel he had prepared to give his uncle for this favour. Six hundred sterling pounds in a tan coloured envelope, he swiped from a stationery cabinet at his admin job with Gatsby housing association. Cali briskly hands out the envelope to Buck, who looks at Cali with a still ice cold calm manner, he places his spliff in between his lips and reaches out to retrieve the payment for the illegal weapon. “Gotta cover these overheads you understand boy, this is a good thing nephew, investing in your own protection, it's mad out here in these streets, see, even a good school paper boy like you gets wrapped in it. The mandem out here are jealous, stupid and hurt. My family, all I know is it is better to get them, then them getting you, I’m glad I could sort this for you boy. Be smart out here, be smart with it” said Buck. “I will, uncle, bless for doing for this for me, I really like, grateful” said Cali. “Don't worry my boy, your uncle is here whenever you need sumtin, in case you get a little bored of that one there, I got sumtin special if you need, let them man know not you fuck around boy” said Buck.

Cali nervously smiled and nodded, peering into the plastic bag on his lap, he saw that Uncle had sold him a 38 calibre revolver handgun. Cali had the intention of keeping it for self defence purely, he wasn’t a street guy, gang member, shoot em up criminal, serial killer type or modern day cowboy desperately seeking attention. While holding the bag in his lap he thought next time, he will be prepared, I will at least have an option in a life or death situation and never be at the mercy of others. After the right amount of time had passed, he politely excused himself and said his goodbyes to his Uncle. He left the grey and maroon bricked building and started to walk through the estate, the weight of the gun on his chest in the breast pocket of his bomber jacket. He keeps his head down walking past people, concentrating on being inconspicuous. He comes across a square with a diagonal concrete pathway, green patches on either side, surrounded in black metal framed fence. Two young adult girls in their twenties lounge on the grass turf, drinking wine and smoking weed with music playing from a portable speaker, bluetooth connected to a mobile phone. One girl is of Mediterranean descent, long silk flowing raven hair, wearing rose coloured sundress with a small pot belly and black sandals with gold straps on her feet and the other girl is of east african origin, with a thick physique, wearing tight black leggings and a grey sweat top, her hair wrapped in a red bandana. The Mediterranean girl calls out to him, Hey, He looks up and she flashes her plump almond shade vagina at him, yelling “PUSSY”. Cali absolutely startled, his jaw dropped with a dumbfounded expression, turned his body, faced the ground and awkwardly scampered away while the girls roared with laughter at his reaction. Cali nervously walked towards his home, his arms tight against his sides as if he was compressing his body, attempting to appear smaller, so he could hide in plain sight. The weight of the gun and the seriousness of his current predicament, weighed on his mind. This small inanimate object contains so much darkness in it, it possesses  a spirit of doom that Cali’s has chosen to press against his chest, putting himself at risk and possibly an innocent in danger. So much chaos and pointless sorrow over a thing, a small thing as insignificant as a garden tool or tv remote controller, however, capable of creating great devastating change that could impact another's life forever. Lost in a daydream in his mind as he traipes the path, comforting himself by reserving in a zombie like state until he reaches home. A sudden flash of blue lights and belling sirens ringing all around, he looks up to see a police car driving down the road towards his direction. His heart fell to the ground, his mouth immediately dry like drops of water falling on the desert sand. He grabbed hold of his chest, where the gun is, his left arm stiff and rigged as a lamp post, like experiencing a stroke and he couldn't move. The thoughts of gloom clouding over his mind, the darkness of his potential downfall latching on his soul. He stands there like a deer in the middle of the road, with a speeding land rover storming towards it. It's all over and it had not even properly begun, what foolishness all over jealousy, fear and pride. Cali stands there, helpless just watching the Police car park up. The seconds drag, it seems as if seasons are flying by, like a meteor falling from the sky and everyone waiting for the impact of reality to hit them. The car doors swing open with the police officers stepping on the scene, the suspense building up like lava in a volcano ready to expose. Then the holy mary moment,  the two  police officers quickly run in the opposite way, leaving Cali sighing, the anxiety dissipating as the calmness soothes him. He quickly escapes from the place by turning off the main road into a quiet residential street, he needs to promptly discard this gun off his person before another intrusion from the police. He walked and walked until he got an idea, seeing a bush ahead him that looked secluded and secretive enough. Thinking it was the perfect, only one setback, a teenage boy sneakily spying on Cali from his home.

Drake dipped his head under the window to avoid being discovered, subtly raising his head just above by his eyes, to continue watching. He sees Cali walk off from the scene, unaware that his actions had been seen. Drake waits, sitting at the end of his bed, thinking. At that moment he didn’t know what to do, after he saw that. Drake’s world had crumbled to dust because of Dotty, a clown, a bully and a nuisance. Someone who pushed him too far, he thought. This seemed to be fate, an opportunity presented to him to change himself, to be respected was the gold, more valuable than anything else on the planet for a young man, longing to become his own. He wanted to become one but he didn't know how to be one. That devastating feeling followed him around all the time these days, a demeaning voice in head, eating away at his self-esteem. Drake waits, until his Mother and sister Raye go to their bedrooms. Drake quietly sneaks down the stairs, getting to the white front door of the house, gently grabbing the door handle, he inhales and opens the door. He quickly scurries across the street to search for the weapon. His heart beating out of his chest, like it wanted to jump out of his body. He feels tingly and weightless, while he searches through the bushes. He tries to be as quiet as he can, not wanting to alert anyone or attract unwanted attention. Being extremely nervous, he almost gives up on this idea until he sees something, deep inside the bush. He reaches with his arm inside, grabbing hold of it, as he pulls his arm back, he is scratched by several thorns, one of them sticks inside his forearm "aahh" he whispers "fuck" he snarls. He pulls the thorns out and looks at the wrapped object, he unwraps it a little, just showing the handle of the gun. He quickly wraps it up again and puts it in his side pocket. He looks around to see the houses, making sure to scope each window. So that no one spies on him, like he spied on Cali. 

Drake hurries home, he quickly walks inside and simultaneously locks the door. He immediately sneaks up to his bedroom. When he gets inside his room, he tosses the handgun on his bed. He quietly paces his room, softly breathing in and out. He battles his anxiety, the rushing feeling of unease, attacking his senses, causing his body to contract, every muscle in his limbs pulsating. He walks to the window seal for air. He takes in a breath of the open air, as he exhales, he opens his eyes and turns to look at the handgun, lying on top of crimson coloured duvet, the weight of the gun forms a crater, creasing the middle of the bed resembling a nail in a brittle wall. He walks over to the bed and picks it up. He pulls the plastic wrappings off, scattering it on the floor in haste and eagerness. He holds the handgun upright, an old 38 calibre revolver. He marvels at the weapon, sliding his two fingers down from the barrel to the hammer. He grips the gun with both hands, spins around, pointing at his reflection in the mirror placed on the wall. He stares at himself holding the handgun, he did not recognise his reflection. It was quite obviously him, his face, his arms, his legs but the person holding that gun in the mirror was unknown to him. The gun changes everything he sees in himself, Drake was not Drake, he was something else. He has evolved from a lower self, into a greater being. The mirror does not just convey a reflection, it conveys a reality and the reality in the mirror showed him as strong, confident and above all, respectable. His facial expression is intense, his eyes turn cold and hard like stone. The power he felt from holding this weapon surged from hand, down his arm to all over his body like an intoxicating elixir, reducing his inhibitions, heightened his confidence, expanding perspective, filling his bones with iron. I have it, he says to himself, I have the answer.

Drake walks down his road on his way to his house. In a pleasant mood with long positive strides, swinging his arms at his sides merrily, the moon light beaming with glorious divine display, together with brightly lit stars decorating the sky like diamonds on a noir velvet fabric. The street lamps glowing golden amber spotlights, his area resembling a magical la la la land, leading up to the heavenly uptopia.  He walks along until he comes across an alleyway with a wide entrance. He sees Nina stand, right there, right by the alley, she smiles at him, signalling him to follow her. He begins to jogs with haste and eagerness towards her, as she disappears inside in the alleyway. He runs and runs then slips. When he rises up to his feet, he notices a large amount of blood on his palms, frightened, he then looks down in front of him and himself bloodied and wounded, holding his chest, tearful with a croaky voice he asks “ why”. Drake wakes from his dream.

The next evening, Drake is dressed in dark clothing, a black sport hooded top with a navy-blue light waterproof Adidas jacket. He holds the gun inside the side pocket, constantly touching it to reassure himself. In his room he stood in front of his mirror, to build up some confidence, psyching up his menacing energy. " I am a menace, I am a dragon" says Drake. He runs downstairs saying "gone out mom, I’ll be back later" ," ok, have a good time" she replies. He walks on the street feeling ten feet taller, he pushes out his chest like an eagle on top of a mountain. His eyes are focussed seeing nothing but his own vision of himself, conquering his shortcomings and becoming a man.  His intentions were not murderous, they were barely malicious, but he did want Dotty to pay. He wanted one over him, just one victory. His intention was to catch Dotty off guard, scare him and humiliate him. Drake didn’t know where Dotty lived but remembered he hung around the housing block, Corporation Avenue. So he decided to try to find the building block with the hope of bumping into Dotty. He was ready, he walked on the street like a lion in the plains, owning every pavement slab he stepped on. He has the whole scenario played out in his head, sees Dotty, smiles in his face, acts like everything is friendly then bang, he pulls out the gun. Holding the barrel just in front of his eye. So he can watch Dotty squirm and shrink to a crumb then laugh at him. At last, he sees the Corporation Avenue block. He turns in the direction of the block, passing a 6-foot green leaf bush and he sees Dotty, standing right in his sight. In the car park, reality just crashed on top of him.

A brief emotion of fear, from the realisation of Dotty actually being in front of him. The worry in his eyes, weltering up like soppy puppy eyes, full pupils like dark pools of sadness. His eyes scan the surroundings as if he was looking to escape. The intensity of the moment filled his body with anxiety. So many thoughts running in his head, what if Dotty doesn't fall for his trick? What if something goes wrong, what if this thing makes everything worse somehow? So many thoughts run through Drake's little head, that a tiny sweat drips down his temple, still in the distance and unnoticed he turns his back, bows his head down. He searches through his feelings, almost deciding to abandon his scheme and fly back home to save himself from further embarrassment. Returning the pistol to its hiding place. But then he thought about the embarrassment, feeling helpless, feeling powerless, why? Why should he feel helpless all the time, why should he feel powerless right now. When he has the power in the palm of his hand? With his hand in his jacket pocket gripping the revolver, he pulls the handle out, ever so slightly to reveal the weapon, staring at it, his anxiety subverts. Remembering the reasons why he is there, is he to be taken seriously? This is his moment to let Dotty know, to let everyone know that he was not a joke. He pulls the revolver out from his jacket and holds it on the side by his hip, he raises his head up and turns his body to face Dotty. As Dotty starts to walk home, he sees someone in the distance that appears to be looking at him. At first, he ignores this as paranoia, however, he looks again and it is apparent to him that this person is definitely watching him, he stands still and tilts his head to the side in confusion.

Drake then calls out to Dotty "Yo Dotty" shouted Drake, "hey yo, what's good" says Dotty still unaware of who it is. He begins to storm over to Dotty, long strides, his arms swaying back and forth like bells in a church tower. Dotty squints his eyes to clear his view and hastily steps forward towards the person. He begins to recognise the person's face, he asks himself “is that, is that Drake”? " Hey yo Drake, Drake, oh what's going on fam" Dotty says cheerfully. Drake doesn't respond back, only focusing on getting close enough, to see the fear in Dotty's eyes when he raises the gun on him, to finally see his cheeky smile wiped off his face. Drake starts getting closer, raising his right arm holding the pistol, Dotty makes a perplexed facial expression,”what’s, what's going”  says Dotty  …. BANG.  As Drake was moving closer, he buckled the front of his trainer on a crack in the concrete. Abruptly losing control of his footing, his finger accidentally slips pulling the trigger and a stray bullet fires. Hitting Dotty in his abdomen, causing him to crash to the ground instantly. Dotty cannot move, his whole body in agony. He is gripping on the gunshot wound and gritting his teeth in pain. He bleeds on his tracksuit , the blood staining his top and joggers. The blood paints the cold smoke stone ground, with dark ruby red which glimmers under the gloomy street lamps. Standing over him, Drake is frozen in astonishment, his face trembling like he is having a fever attack. Perplexed at what had just happened, he could not believe it, tears building up in his eyes like clear bubble covers that were about to burst, to pour down his face like streams off a waterfall. Drake is panicking; he starts to look around frantically. Swerving his head side to side. But all that he can see is darkness and gloomy lights, then he turns to look down at Dotty. Both of them were staring at each other. Dotty’s eyes filled with disbelief at what had just happened, scanning his mind trying to take himself to place mentally as a comfort away from the pain. But then, he starts thinking why? He is in torment as he cries out “ahhh, mur, aahh” Dotty mutters. Drake's eyes, filled with regret and sorrow, he  scratches the back of his head aggressively. Then he begins slapping his head in frustration, as he lets out a sad whimpering sigh. The three young kids stay hidden behind the car watching, their young eyeballs shivering inside those tiny sockets, pupils like fully ripe plums. Their little bodies frozen like toys on display on a shelf. Shelly, the bolder of the three suffers from a great curiosity, being enticed with an urge to get a closer look at the two people. As Shelly shuffles around the car, trying to manoeuvre by the bonnet. She accidentally kicks a can unnoticed by her. Causing a rattling sound alerting to their presence. All three of them gasp simultaneously. Then two of them drop to the ground right under the car. Shelly shuffles back behind the car, still peering over through the car windows. 

The sound startles Drake, who immediately swings his arm around, holding  up the handgun. Drake blinks frantically, his face twitching as he looks out into the darkness around him. He can't see anyone, his mind is racing with so many thoughts, he can't comprehend any of them. Where was his power? Where was the glory and respect? He was supposed to be in control. What a foolish mistake, as tears fall down his face. He wishes for someone to swoop in to save them both. The barrel of the revolver slightly jerked up and down at the end of his arm. His nerves were jumping inside his body, causing him to shake, while he stood, both hands on the gun scared for his very life. The blood rushing in his veins like a bullet train, heartbeat like a hummingbird. He was waiting for something, anything to creep out to him, he’s too terrified to say anything. Shelly watches Drake's arm shaking. She slowly rises up, Milli and Roscoe faces twisted in a horrified expression. Shelly stands firm looking straight at Drake. Drake can barely see, he takes a few steps forward. Blinking and wiping the tears from his eyes to clear his view. His jaw then sinks, as he looks at the young girl standing behind the car. He sees Shelly’s innocent baby face and slowly puts down his arm. He gulps, swallowing his spit, his eyes filled with helplessness. He turns to look at Dotty lying on the ground. Still groaning in pain. Drake’s voice trembles as he utters “I’m sorry”, he takes steps backwards away from Dotty. Then runs away into the street. Dotty lying on the ground, while Shelly watches him. She’s scared too but her empathy was too much for her to stay away. She takes more steps towards him, making the other two kids agitated, they whisper out. “We should go, we could get in trouble" says Roscoe “We should call someone, we should get someone” says Milli. Shelly looks at them, then looks back at Dotty staring up at the night sky, struggling to breath, murmuring in pain. Shelly then looks down at her hand, noticing that she still had it in the pose of a gun. She opens her hand out, then holds her hands together in front of her waist and begins to walk cautiously towards him.

THE

END

CONTACT DETAILS

BLOGSITE

https://foonnizzymiles.blogspot.com/

EMAIL

joseyjedidah@gmail.com