The Mattapan Murders

The sky was indigo. The streets were deserted. It was as if the Apocalypse had happened. I covered my head with a hood from my coat. The chilly rain beat against my back. I hurried into the projects to find shelter until the rain stopped. The dumpster was over flowing with trash. Birds nibbled the rice and beans that seeped out of a garbage bag. Suddenly, three men ran out of a hallway building. “Put your hands up,” one of them ordered. Frightened, I lifted my hands. Frightened, I began to cry. “Shut the fuck up before I kill you.” “Give me your money.” “I don’t have any money,” I replied frantically “Run your bread!” Panicky, I beckoned them to search my pockets. “I don’t have any money,” I pleaded. One of the men grabbed my neck; while another rummage through my pockets. When they realized that I didn’t have any money one of them pulled out a gun, placed its cold metal against my head. I shivered. He pulled the trigger. As the bullet released, ripping into my skull I awoke in a cold sweat. The Mattapan Murders were on my mind.