It’s been like this since my dad died but that doesn’t matter because that was then and this is now. We are being evicted and there is nothing I can do. “Felix, Felix!” my sister yells. She doesn’t need to know any of this so I rip the paper off quickly and stuff it in my pocket. I need to keep what’s going on with the house to myself. She is only eight so I don’t want her to be sucked into the world that I’m in. The world where all you think about is where the next meal is going to come form or if you’ll have to give your meal to your siblings. I wish my mom had done that for me. No I was basically born into this world that few people know about. I have to go to work for four hours then I bring home dinner, four double cheeseburgers and four fries. My mom doesn’t eat she just stares at the ceiling. How can she be so docile? Doesn’t she know we are in trouble? She must’ve seen the notice so why isn’t she freaking out like I am? Why isn’t she showing any emotion? I start getting angry so I walk out the door with my fries. The salt somehow soothes me and keeps me from making any crazy decisions. I also think of my dad when I eat fries since it was him that got me hooked. It reminds me of a time where I didn’t have to worry about food and my dad took care of every thing. I remember a time when my parents and I were all happy, but that was then and this is now. I walk back in a take a big breath (breath). My brother is in his room but my sister is in the living room playing with her dolls. I guess she is making a lot of noise because my mom finally does something she yells at my sister.

My anger reappears and I’m out of fries. Nothing is controlling my anger and her yelling was getting louder. How dare she yell at my sister! She hasn’t token of my sister in years now she thinks she can yell at my sister! My fist, are clenching and I feel like I’m going to throw up. I step in between of my mom and sister. I tell my sister to go into her room but she is still in shock from the yelling. My mom is yelling at me now asking who am I to tell my sister what to do. My mom is now targeting me but this is more physical. She’s push and slapping and calling me all kinds of names until I snap. I push her on the couch and tell her to stop; I tell her that I’m the one taking care of this family. My eyes are watering. I

I’m shouting now. “Did you even notice we are being evicted!!! We could be out on the streets in days and it’s your fault!!! Do you even care about us?” but I know the answer. I know what she is going to say but instead of words she hits me. Maybe it was all the stress from the eviction or maybe it was the built up anger but before I knew it I hit her back.

She’s shocked and I’m shocked but I’m surprised by what she does next.  She leaves, she gets up and leaves. As the door slams I turn around to see my brother and sister looking at me in fear. Why? I’m the one who has been taking care of them me not my mother. Now that she has left nothing has changed I am still the one who has to get up at 5:30 am so and iron my siblings clothes. I am still the one who has to go to work for hours after school. I am still the one paying the bills. I look at their faces and I know that they have just been brought into the world that I’ve lived in for years. The world of fear.

Well doc it all started that one-day when I was patrolling the corner of 12^th and Rooney I was just getting off my shift. I sat down in one of the out side seats and had my self a cup of coffee. I remember because I ordered a medium and, I got a small, so I made her send it back. If I only knew what was going to happen next I would have kept the coffee, and would have not have gotten mad over it. So she was on her way sending the coffee back.             I lit a cigarette, and start to smoke it.

            All of the sudden this man with a ski mask come running out of a bank with a bag of money, runs into the coffee shop and takes everyone hostage. I sit there in a shock, my cigarette drops from my mouth into the coffee. The only thing I can think of is what is this, man, this psycho going to do to these people in this coffee shop. So then next thing I do is stand up and call for back up. But before I could call backup waitress make a run for it but as she got to the door the man shoots the waitress in the back of the head. She fall face first out the front door. She just was lying there with a hole in her head, and covered with her own blood. This is the first time in my career that I have seen any one get shot like that. I was sick to my stomach and was about to puke but I held my head up, and took it as it was. I yelled at him saying “come out with your hands up this is your last chance for you to give up or it will be by force.” Then all of the sudden the back up comes. I turn around to explain the situation, and I got shot in the arm from the guy, blind shooting out the front door. A tear comes running down my face. I start to think about my wife and kids, and all of my accomplishments vanishing into thin air. I start to black out and I feel numb, is this death? I was thinking to myself, or am I still alive. The next thing I noticed is a bright light and I think I’m in heaven because I see my kids and wife, but I focus more, and I’m is a hospital, I turn on the news, and the anchors said that they caught the bank robber, and that was my moment of peace and the feeling of accomplishment.

It’s cool! I don’t trip!

Dest, how could you do this to me? How could you let this happen? I thought you cared about me! You said we were like twins, I guess you really meant it. I should have been Sadie, but No! I was lil’ Dest. When we were young, we did everything together. You told me so many things; you opened up so many doors for my one set mind. You were a sweet little girl. Always smiling, laughing, acting like a kid. I admired everything you did.

Then, you changed. Dressing, talking, and acting differently. You started to tell me that the only way I’m going to get with a cute boy is if I dress like this: tight clothing, low cut shirts, shirts with the belly hanging out, hip jeans, and make-up. All this and we were only in the 5^th grade remember running around in Meade schoolyard. You were right though it worked, even though my boys weren’t real cute but they were okay. Then we got even older, 7^th graders, we stop talking. I wasn’t good enough for you, so I changed started mocking you and all the other girls. By 8^th grade we were cool again, twins. We went everywhere together, did everything together! Started sneaking out of school to go see boys that I didn’t even know! Letting them feel on me even though I didn’t want them to. You did so I did!

That’s when I met him! That boy who sees me on the train but don’t even say hi. After all I gave him, all he gives back is nasty gleams. It doesn’t bother me that much any more. It still hurts me seeing him with girls, he never took the time out to be with me. It wasn’t even two weeks after it happened and he was already seeing somebody else. But it’s cool. I don’t trip.

I’m in high school now. So many people around me are saints. So many people never had that experience. They’ll judge me if I told them. Some people know, but I know they judged me. Just by the look on their faces when I told them. But it’s cool. I don’t trip. LIES! It’s starting to hit me, HARD! (Punches fist) I wish I could go back in time and do it all over. So many things that could of happened because I was a rookie. It didn’t even occur to me then, I had faith in him because you said “He knows what he’s doing.”

I blame you for everything. It’s your fault I’m in this state now. That day plays over and over every time I go there, Allegheny. Every time I see their faces. I’m embarrassed. I was embarrassed then and I’m embarrassed now. I remember sitting on that step 2:00 in the afternoon, I didn’t know who step it was. I didn’t even know the area; I didn’t even know that person. Yet I was waiting for him to come and get me. I was alone, I should have been in school, but I was there. You weren’t a phone call away either, you were gone bye-bye. Sun beaming down on my back, then his voice “Yo”. My smile, his smile, his hand, and his muscles pulling me off that step. The walk across the street, front door squeak open, squeak closed, his dad cooking, stairs squeaking, door closing, plop on the mattress, music videos, and then the black screen.

The moment his hand touch my thigh, my heart started to pound. I could feel my face get heated, it was on fire. My body started to shake, and then his voice “ Don’t be nervous”. He got closer, dead in my face. He reached his hand out and touched my face. At first it was a kiss, next came the tongue. He laid me down and started to kiss my body. I suddenly blacked out from the panic. When I opened my eyes I was naked. How shameful I felt, I wanted to cry. He pulled down his pants, boxers and all. His body touched mines. I wanted it to stop so badly but I didn’t, I let it happen because I wanted to please you. I wanted to be grown up for you, because you told me too.

All the things I did for you! But what did you give me in return? Nothing. Nothing at all! Oops I lied, you gave me shame, and you gave me the reason to walk with my head down. You’re the reason why I’m so easy. You’re the reason why, why, why … I… No, no it can’t be! No, I can’t stop it. I can’t take control of my life. I been brain washed by her. Oh my, I don’t want to believe this but I must. I can say no! It’s my fault because I refuse to say NO! I refused!

Hazy’s Monologue

 “ Why? Why can’t you leave me be in peace? I hear your voice; you’re in the water, the trees, and the very air around me! Your voice calls out to my soul the part of me that still belongs to you. “Hazy Hazy” you call Stop! Stop I say! Please let me go! Let go of the world that so brutally let go of you. Eclipse I felt you die, I felt your blood soak through my very bones. I held you as the light, that warm silver light that lit my eternal flame, I watched helplessly as it went out never to light again. Is that why you cannot leave me? Are you too worried about my well being? I’m fine I tell you I no longer blame myself for your death. Eclipse I love you but I’ve found someone who can put warmth in words and touch. You no longer have the warmth of the living. The warmth I crave at night when the chill mountain air seeps through my covers. I’ve found a voice that makes my heart race with happiness. Shouldn’t you be happy for me? No matter what changes I will never forget you. I’m begging you from the very depths of my being to move on. Move on and let me be, when you go I will make sure you live on. The sky we once flew in on bright sunny days still holds the memory of our laughter as you turn left and never right. Eclipse its time to take that first right turn. I will move on with you I will protect and revive your memory. I have strength enough for the both of us now. So go ahead move on in your new life, I’ll be fine. I’ve found love again my fire reignited and I’m ready to move on. Though I’m still afraid to move on with out you, when you leave I will be sure to feel the rightness of moving on. Are you worried for your brother? Roziel’s ok now, he’s found his way in life and he two is slowly moving on. Are you ready? Go on then and move on in to the after life. Fly through the bright amber skies and await your family. We will met again one day and when we do you’ll find a happy life with us once more. Move on and let our once intertwined spirits float freely. Good-bye and thank you for the life you helped me keep. I will love and cherish your memory for the rest of my days.” 

"Unit 3 is over and no more benchmarks”

 I should be happy right? Well I’m not.

 I am not usually happy when I'm in this class or sleep, one or the other.

"Do we have to do this, is there any other options"?

"No none miss Parker no other options just your monologues"

I wonder why do we have do this, how will the benefit me if I know how to write a paper about people's conversations.

"You guys have until Wednesday to have almost a completed draft in class"

I’m pretty upset at this point, I don't understand the project and on top of that I don't want to do it, I'm such a busy person I have dance, friends, family, I have a life.

This project was assigned Friday and is due Wednesday, should be enough time right.

Well seems to me like this was over night, I can with all the other homework's also I feel like I have no time to do this.

Friday night, the night the assignment was given instead on planning what I should do I stayed on the computer on a chat until 3 in the morning.

"Maybe I can get an extension I will tell her something is wrong"

Saturday 10:30AM "Hi Ms. Powalter this is Sophia Parker and I was wondering could I have a mini extension I don't understand this project, I have no idea about it and I don't have ugh time to do it this weekend".

12:00PM "Hi Miss Parker sorry but no one will have an extension on this project think very hard an idea should come to you then make it your own, this doesn't have to be the best ever, that's why it's called a draft.

"Well that didn't work maybe I will work on it after I come home from dance class since I don't have anything else to do.

The same day some one asked me to with them to the movies a little later on that day so I decided to work on this all Sunday since no one does anything Sunday too.

I ended up trying another excuse.

12:30 PM Sunday "Hi Ms. Powalter me again, how is your weekend going, about our monologues, may I have a bit extra time or at least the day in school to work on this, something like a work period.

2:30PM Sunday " Hi miss Parker as it was said to you earlier there is no excuses for missing work, you can try and turn in something, because something is always better than nothing.

(Long blank stare)

"Well since I am being forced to write this maybe I should begin to write it so I can just get it over with. Those were the exact words that left my mouth before the idea of working stepped out behind them.

Ok seems like excuses aren’t working so maybe a complaint will.

Monday 6:30 PM “Hey Ms. Powalter I don’t mean to bother you but, I feel like you don’t care about my situations and the reasons why I cant do this paper or at least why I cant have it in on time, I feel like this project is being forced on the students and very rushed due to the fact that we our missing two days of school next week. Also I believe that I have a small amount of carp-tunnel in the hand that I right with and I feel like you don’t care about my inner and my outer feeling’s”.

8:30PM “Hi Sophia I am sorry about your wrist maybe you should go to the doctors about that but this assignment is not written it is typed and you don’t have carp-tunnel if you are able to type this many excuses and a complaint’s about this project”.

Time begins to move faster, I have one night to at least have a storyboard and some of this monologue typed, there’s no more time for excuses so seems to me all there is left to do is type … After I get home from dance.

I feel like nothing worked, no excuses, no complaints, nothing worked. And I still don’t have an idea.

“Mom do you know something that I could write about and make a monologue of?”

“Sorry Sophia the only type of monologue I can help you with is the play”.

“How about you dad do you know anything?”

His response was “Umm remind me what’s a monologue again?”

Maybe I can get some help with this project in class tomorrow; class will be pretty helpful, reading aloud some of the winning monologues and gathering thoughts should help also…

Those were my last thought’s about this mini assignment until the night before it is due and I’m up until next morning typing nothing.

I can predict how Thursday is going to go.

“Hi class lets take your seats and take out you completed and printed monologue.”

“Morning Ms. Powalter, funny I found an idea to type about after all this pain with this assignment”

“I guess I will right about how “fun” and “easy” this journey was to completing this paper and how I feel about this assignment”.

“ Arnold Hart, Parole denied”. The words echoed and sunk into my mind like a submarine but as I looked up I remembered his face. He didn’t look mad or happy but just a look of justice. “Why did I do that!” those words were more like an explosion that just blew my mind apart but I had only myself to blame. I looked at the mirror and saw that the face that committed the crime had changed. It had grown a full beard and had few more wrinkles than I remembered. It had grown up and realized what it did was stupid and wrong. If only I could rewrite time and redo my life then everything would be ok and I would have a second chance. “Why?” that word was like a cool breeze over my mind but all I could do is sit and remember. Remember what drove me to that event. The yells of other inmates  

It was my fourth job interview and I was sure I had it. When the call came that I didn’t get the job, I was shocked and angry. “Why does this only happen to me” I thought, not fully thinking. I was at my wits end. Bills were stacking up and debt became my worst enemy. I got a letter in the mail with the big and red word “Foreclosure”. I was alone and the thoughts of me being homeless were becoming a reality. Then I saw it, the gun I had bought to protect myself at night. It had a strange color that day like for some reason it was shinning and telling me the answer to my problem.

I then thought that robbing a stupid connivance store would be a good start, but they don’t have enough money so without a thought I said “A bank”. “What was I thinking?” Now looking back it was by far the stupidest thing ever. Then I saw the bank. It looked simple enough, but as life shows nothing really is. I had the gun, ran into the bank with the feeling of excitement and regrets. I don’t know where the feelings came from but they were present. Then with the gun pointing I told the man “GIVE ME THE MONEY” but I said it with manners.

I didn’t see the alarm button behind the counter, or the nervous banker that pressed it. Before I even knew what had happened the police were already there with a gun up yelling freeze. I didn’t know what to do or how to even act but the trigger had been pulled and a policeman was on the ground bleeding. 

No mom but I’ll go start it now.

Hey grandpa,

 I’m your grandson Billy, I just turned 11 a few days ago. Mom says we share the same birthday, which is why I’m named after you, Bill Samuel Johnson. Mom use to tell me about how you wanted the perfect grandson, someone to take to baseball games, to play catch with in the yard, and to teach how to fish in the river. I’m in the 5^th grade now I have good grade, and I love to play sports. Mom says that I’m like you when you were in school. She also tells me about how you fought in the war and won lots of medals because you were very brave. When I grow up, I want to be a soldier just like you. Mom tells me a lot about you and how you used to be there for her.

We live in the house that you raised mom in and she says that you never ever wanted a black person to set foot in this house. Why don’t you want black people in our house? My dad lives here with us in the house, I wonder what would happened if you found out he was living with us? I really love my dad, he doesn’t act different than any other white person. I have always asked mom that but she never wanted to respond to me. She always said “Baby I really do not know.” Or “Billy can you stop asking questions!” So, after a billion times of getting those answers, I just stopped asking her.

One night, I heard mom talking to grandma. She was saying how you were disappointed in her because of the type of men mom liked. She talked about how you wanted only one race in the family’s bloodline, full breed Italian. She also says that you really hated black people. My dad is black do you hate him? Because mom talks about how he tried so hard to make you like him. My dad is a great person and loves me and mom so much, he takes care of us and always will, he says.

Sincerely, Billy

P. S. Even though I haven’t met you I still love you grandpa and always will, I just hope you love me too.

Ewe.  Swine. Ugh that nasty. I hate it I hate it I HATE IT…

The nasty thick layer of meat, from the nasty little fat dirty pig. Where they lay around in the mud. It’s like lying around in their own poop. No mom for the last time I hate pork,

They eat trash,

They are dirty,

They eat poop,

 And they even eat their own throw up!

So can you please make me something better to eat?

What Leena? … Baby since when did you become Muslim?

Moms I never became nothing. I just don’t eat pork.

Like people just don’t know what they feed them pigs and then we eat them. It’s like eating our poop, nasty trash, and mud. Not only that, pigs has worms that live in their body. From all them disgusting thing they be eating. Most people don’t believe it but I do. People just are so into them pork chop, bacon, hot dog, Jell-O, that they don’t even care about what the pork has in them. But they will believe that later on in their life they would have worms living in their bodies.

Sweetie that is all non-since, some people just feel bad for the little pigs, that’s why they said that.

Mom you just don’t understand. Don’t you just ever think about what you eat?

Leena look listen I’m not gone sit here and listen to what your gone say because you is just crazy, and yes sweetie I know what pigs eat, and that’s why they are just so fat and good.

Ewwwww mom… Omg you’re so nasty.

Aha its really good you want to try it. Well I guess you would be eating just plain old rice for dinner, since you don’t want to eat this pork chop I made.

Omg mom, your just the best mom in the world. Dang pork eater. From this day on I will not eat your meat anymore. I will make my own food to eat.

Since thanksgiving is coming up sometimes this month, you better find, or make your own food to eat. Since you said you would not eat any food I make.

Whoosh, Hello mom I was just kidding you see. I was just trying to tell you that pork isn’t good for you that’s all. All i'm saying is that on thanksgiving you should just make everything out of chicken and turkey.

Leena your just something else do you know that.

Yes mom I understand, that’s why i'm your daughter and you’re gone have to deal with it.

That’s why you need to go upstairs and close your room door, before I beat the crap out of you. And I would like to enjoy my dinner without you talking about pork and how delisious it is. Than she starts to laugh.

Okay, mom I’m sorry … enjoy your Swine love you.

Now, now head on up stairs before I kill you.

Than I ran upstairs and shut my door. Just can’t believe she chased me with a fork. Now I’m sitting here starving. Ugh mom. 

To the Grave

Where are you that you can sting me with out fear of retaliation marksman? Making me lie in this pit of mud and rocks, the womb of the earth dyeing. Why do you wait in the shadows? Come out and face me! (Tries to stand up but falls) I see you approach me from the dark corners of my eyes and I say, stay back. Is it time to go so early? My body is still filled with rage and the adventure of youth. Has my fruit withered on the vine before harvest day? NO, this must be a dream that lies on the precipice of a nightmare. I must wipe the sleep from my eyes and cast away the warm blanket of blood. My thoughts rush through me in a harmonic hum that reminds me of a lullaby, I can’t remember its name nor want to.

After cursing you I manage a crawl to my gun half buried in the mud useless. I want to breathe with out filter but the air is poison. This is not war as told by the flyer and posters behind Mr. Joe’s pub. War was to between men like the knights of old. Whose escapades captivated me and encouraged me to destroy my toys for king and country. So when the war drums sounded I jumped to the call, leaving a young wife and a crying infant. Will I leave them? I thought I be back a hero some one to look up at not a statistic.

I want to go home and wake up from this dream, which is death. I want to go to work at the post office on this rainy Monday. Then get off from work and come into my house with the broken screen door, just in time for my favorite radio show the one with that old timely music. Then take a bath and go to sleep. I won’t have to kill or put on my mask or fear anything.  I fear my sleep will be sound however and no pinch will wake me.

I stay there in a daze for a long while. Remembering my life, what I liked about it what I didn’t. I think about you and what will it be after. Will there be tea and crumpets, family, friends, children, pets? What is it like, I feel you will soon tell me but until you do I will ponder. A casualties of world war two