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 [filtered word] 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.
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.