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Original Writing - Prose: From The Stress, The Fight

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Tahsin Sabir From The Stress, The Fight 'Yo, yo, B set me a cigarette' shouted O-Dog, from across the street. It was a hot evening in the middle of the month of June, in sunny Los Angeles. B short for Benjamin, a young black youth from this busy city was "chillin" on the side of the street or in his hood. As usual he was still getting into trouble, dealing, shoplifting, fighting, and truancy but this was the life of a "young g" in America. At the tender age of 19, he still had many years of his life left, but there was no chance of a job as he had left school at the age of 15 to deal cannabis and crack. So he just relaxed on the side of the street, every afternoon, with his friends, a hi-fi on the side blaring loud rap music, shouting lyrics like "When the lala hits ya, lyrics jus splits ya, head so hard, that ya hat can't fit ya" and many more explicit words. ...read more.


I just want some drink" the female Chinese worker seemed in total fear, "just hurry up and buy" she said quickly. "Whatever bitch", B took his time over choosing his drink, walked to the counter, took out a roll of 50 dollar notes, took the elastic band off, and handed a 50 dollar note over. The change was given and without counting if the amount was correct he just put the rest of the money in the pocket and continued to walk. As he stepped outside, he walked down the street and another youth seemed to barge him, he looked up to see if he could recognise the face. "You remember this face, huh?" and continued to barge B. B took a closer look, and knew he didn't recognise where he had seen the face, but he knew it was in a violent encounter. B's first reaction was to use the bottle, so he hit the other youth with the bottle across his head, not once, but twice, blood across his face, B continued to punch the youth, then getting up, and kicking him in the stomach, watching the youth throw up blood. ...read more.


This meant B had to walk and he knew it was the same way in, which had been earlier, just past the store. It was now dark, and the street was lighted, he strolled down the street slowly, he continued to walk. A car drove past, and then again. This time it stopped, and the doors opened, two men wearing hoods came out the car and lifted guns at B. B just froze as shots were fired, he went for his own gun but it was to late, then he could feel sharp pains drifting across his body. His body started feeling numb and then he couldn't find energy so he fell, "this is it" he thought, "I'm out of here". He knew he couldn't do anything, as his whole body went completely light, "the fight, the stress is over" he thought, as his eyes closed for the final time. B had been shot 6 times in the stomach and twice in the back. Another young man shot dead in the prime of his life. Another young man shot dead in the hood. But he had escaped the stress, and the fight. He could now rest in peace. ...read more.

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