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That's what I call a G...

El Zilcho

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Short piece I typed in the new topic post over 1 hour. Likely to be a few errors, I only proof read it once. Hope you enjoy it.



"Come on man!" Jamal pushed the boy gruffly to the ground, and held his arms down. He had a look on his veteran face of rugged desperation - he wanted to be out of there. Layers of his composure floated away like autumn leaves - gang initiations had been hard enough as it was when he did it himself, but now taking someone else to do theirs felt cold and unnecessary. Why do this?


"Nah, f*ck that sh*t. I can't." K Doc waved his gun hand away. He started for the streets, stopping momentarily and thinking deeply, his back to Jamal. Head hanging low on his shoulders.


"You don't want it man? Just two shots, straight from yo gat! I thought you was up for it? You don't wanna be in the set!" Jamal was now genuinely confused, the kid wriggled a bit under his grip and he was forced to slam the boy into the floor again.


"It ain't worth it, this sh*t is too much! f*ck." K Doc walked a bit toward the end of the alley, but then he stopped where the beams of the orange street lights drew a border on the sidewalk. The night and warmth of the late night city traffic rolled on, oblivious of all happening here. K Doc rubbed the bridge of his nose, and looked out over the urban jungle. And it all flashed before him, the lines of dark and light melting away in the eternal smelting pot of the projects.


It was all there in his minds eye. Like his brother before him, his life could be so rich. Everything he saw in the projects, all the grime can be washed away, with a little blood. Doc couldn't understand why they needed him to do this. But he realized whatever was asked of him, he could bury away. It was for the greater good. His Mom was dying, his Dad was God knows where. His little sister, too young to know much but with no chance to grow in this world of inequality. She didn't deserve it.


Doc couldn't even think of his brother without his eyes welling up and this throat sinking. It was too much to control, childhood memories boiling over. He wanted to make something of his life, he needed to. All aspirations collapsed in the dark quagmire of his desolate, ghetto life. Education didn't work for someone of his disposition, he couldn't fit. In times gone by, he fell in with his brother, who seemed to always bring back more than enough cash. He kept the family on their feet, and he was much loved around the projects. On the block, on the corner, in the house. Everybody loved Chris. Doc was young when he was shot, and in his innocence he couldn't see what his brother's 'profession' was. And why every night, when he came home Mom argued with him for hours, and Doc could only listen and wonder through doors ajar. Chris always supplied, always made the money. He was kind, and always around for K Doc. What more could a little brother ask for?


He could have asked for Chris to live. When he was shot down, Doc's life hit rock bottom. All Fs. No desire to study. "Why learn how to better myself? I lost my brother, he's all that I ever wanted to be. And he never went to school" Had Chris lived, he'd have told Doc to take his chances at education, to be the better man. Chris couldn't, but he had to. Doc could have; but he chose not to.


Tonight, K Doc could take his brothers place. Be the bread winner, and make up for all the days he and his sister had been hungry. Could a little violence really hurt in the bigger picture?


He didn't even have to kill the kid. But he was sure as hell his Mom would die soon - God was gonna murder her. So why should K Doc give a f*ck what God says? He and his lil sis would be turned out, onto the streets. Doc needed to pay, he needed to live. He'd do it for Chris, he'd make something for himself if it killed him. The gang was the way he would do it.


With resolute strength and short term determination, he turned quickly and brought his gun around and turned on his feet, walking strongly to Jamal and the Kid.


"Let's do it. Before I change my mind, dammnit!" K Doc put his 44. to the kneecap of the boy and fired. Point blank range. The bone shattered, and the high pitched scream reverberated off the alley walls. The 2nd bullet broke his other cap. K Doc's eyes welled up but he holstered the gun as Jamal released the shoulders of the boy, looking quietly and solemnly at Doc. He didn't get a single glance back.


K Doc's eyes were empty.






One week later, the boy was dead. Blood poisoning, they said on the news. K Doc didn't last long. One day on a pick up, he was shot. His boys said since his initiation, he'd never been the same. Young vigour, bled from his soul. When he was shot, it was very much in the same way his brother was before him. On the corner, lying face down in the gutter. Like all those, with dreams beyond their reach.


"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."


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I'll be honest I really liked it, especially the last qoute which shows that alot of youngsters in gangs these days have a vision of being number one in their imaginations and before they know it they get murdered themselves.


I'm not the best writer in the world so you might want to take criticism from sombody else. However when you used the word "Welled" two times in the story did you mean "Swelled" by any chance? If not I just don't know what welled means.


EDIT : I now know what welled means, Me bad! lol.gif

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I'm not the best writer in the world so you might want to take criticism from sombody else. However when you used the word "Welled" two times in the story did you mean "Swelled" by any chance? If not I just don't know what welled means.

Absolutely not, criticisms from anyone is always appreciated! Welled as in tears welled up in his eyes, I think it's correct.


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