Wanye lowered the music as he pulled over to the corner. Nick turned to face me. “You see that nigga on the corner over there?”
I replied in a sedated drawl, “Yeah” without even looking.
Wanye hissed in a nasty tone, “You’re gonna push his shit back.” I just sat there looking dumbfounded.
She said, “Do it.” She groaned, “Do it.” She growled, “Do it.” That was her mantra as she held me in her grip. She held me tightly. I held the gun, and together we crept toward where we were headed.
He stood there on the corner with his back toward me. I gripped the gun with all my might, and felt just as mighty, as I raised it into the night. the trigger felt unmoveable. In the final moments before I squeezed the trigger, right before I closed my eyes, he turned around.
It was the snaggled-toothed pumpkin-head dude from my first date with the night. Looking like the sorriest man alive, He did not see me standing behind him. I felt her eyes penetrate me, and I felt her anticipation. Again I rose to release my destiny, but it was not to be that night. All at once the heaviness of being a man and the heat of the night collapsed in on me.
I turned and ran. I ran to where I cannot say, or for how long. All I remember is her laughing at me, taunting me. “I thought you was a man.” “You still a scared little boy.” “Run little boy, run all night long!” “Sooner or later you will be back, to come into the night.” “Maybe not this night, but one night, you’ll be back.”
Years later, I did come back into the Night. Not just once, but many times, and in multiple ways. The night and I became more than lovers, she became my life, all that I pursued, and all that I consumed. Until finally, she took all I had.
Ultimately blood and liberty were put on the table, and she refused me not. I rode into the night, where I reached a climax of twenty five years to life in prison, with blood on my hands. She took my friends and family, and left me with nothing but illusions of the Night.
Corey Devon Arthur, #98A7146
Beacon, NY 12508
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