Urban Street Literature Chronicles (Calvin Brewster)

Series One: Part 3
Copyright 2016 Drako Sullivan

William P. Crane was sitting in his cubical going over his most recent report about the West End’s crime rate when his phone interrupted his thoughts.
“You the guy that wrote ’bout the pig that got smoke eight months ago?” asked a raspy voice.
“Yes, I’m the one.” William said, hesitantly.
“They got the wrong man.”
“He didn’t kill ’em!”
“How do you know? Who is this speaking?… Hello…Hello…”
A dial tone was all that William heard on the other end. He couldn’t understand why this person called him and not the police. How did this person know that he was following this case closely. He wasn’t the only reporter that reported on this story. Hell, it had been over twenty-five years since an officer was kilt in the line of duty in Greenville. William’s mind was trying to dig through all the possibilities.
“Crane…Crane!!” Chief Editor Parker yelled to get William’s attention.
“Yes Boss.”
“What in the hell has gotten into you?”
“I just…”
“Never mind that, get off your ass and get over to Hank’s Party Shop. They just got stuck up.”
“I’m on it Boss.” William said, grabbing his camera, pad and pen, and mini recorder. He put on his fedora and bolted pass Parker.
“FREEZE!!” Officer Neely yelled, once he seen the two mask men exit the liquor store Deuce’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he seen the police and Honey driving out of the parking lot.
“Drop your…” was all that Officer Neely manger to say before Deuce squeezed the trigger sending three shots directly at him. One caught him dead center of his chest; knocking him flat on his back. Deuce and Junebug took off running in the other direction with brown paper bags tightly gripped in their fist.
“How yo bitch gon leave us like that?” Junebug yelled out as they ran beside the liquor store.
“That bitch is gon get hers, believe that!? Deuce replied. Sounds of sirens grew louder as they ran across Perry Ave. into Mountain View Homes Apartments.
“This way Bug!” Deuce said, panicky.
“Damn, you know this shit man…why haven’t you got yo’self out of here?” Calvin asked, amazed how Buddy Cole made the law so simple for him.
“Hell Youngblood, my ass is guilty that’s why. I got caught with the cookie crumbs around my mouth.” Buddy Cole said, laughing at his own joke. “I was built fo this shit tho. But you, you don’t deserve this.”
“You damn right I don’t.”
“That is why I’ma get yo black ass out this horse shit you got yo’self in.”
“So whats this we writing again?”
“This is a motion, its the only thing the courts and judges respect.”
“So this a appeal right.”
“Thats what we working on, but you will be sentenced before they get this. I can’t believe that PD didn’t file a motion of discovery.”
“A motion of what?” Calvin asked, confused?
“Man, anytime you go to trial, especially for murder, you got to see what all they got to burn yo ass with and who is there to rat you out. I bet a million bucks to a hog nut that they ain’t got shit on you.”
“Damn Bro, how I’ma pay you back?”
“Go home and make something out of yo’self.”
Honey drove as calm as she could but her hands were sweating, heart pounding. Beads of sweat was forming on her nose and she was more nervous than a preacher in a hoe-house. The patrol car pulled up behind her as soon as she turned on to Queen St. leaving Mountain View Homes apartments. She knew that there wasn’t any room for any mistakes or suspicious moves. Her mind was racing 100 mph. ‘What if he do pull me over?….Do they know I was in on the robbery?’ She thought, turning her signal light on to turn right onto Gower St.. The patrol car sped up and pulled right beside her. Her heart dropped to her feet. The officer glanced over at Honey and made a left turn onto Gower St..


Calvin Brewster: Part II

The American Dream


The American Dream
by Drako Sullivan
copyright 2017

For years I was bonded, in chains, trapped by ignorance and exploitation, branded with whips, beaten and hung by my neck. I was told that three-fifths of a man was the most I could be. I was stripped of my culture, pride and dignity; all in the pursuit of the American Dream.

The storm was calm and I was set free; so it seems. But the hate and discrimination increased. I was attacked when I came in peace. I still found a different way to fight; thru boycotts and marching for my civil rights. My churches were bombed by men covered in sheets. Worst of all, I witness the assassination of a KING. All in the pursuit of the American Dream.

WOW!… There might be a chance, a pinch of hope or a dash of opportunity. The people elected a man to lead, and he looks like me. But now his presidency has come to an end and that hope is fading into the sea. Uncertain of tomorrow and what it may bring in the pursuit of the American Dream.

WAIT!… Our President Elect comes with claims of making America great…AGAIN. What does he mean???? Will I have to relive the journey in the pursuit of the American Dream?