Alley Boy

A story of a boy in an alley way. His tragic death seen through my eyes..

The first one I remember would have to be this one. I don't know if it's exactly the first one I remember, rather than I just like to tell them in order of what I saw first..

This story is about a boy just trying to get home. Walking in one of the big city's he ends up getting surrounded by a group of boys. I couldn't see the boy's faces, all I could see was the victim in the whole situation. Being surrounded by a group of guys twice your size is actually one of the scariest things you could ever go through. 

I could feel it all... Every hit they landed on him was reflected on me. I could feel the pain he felt, I could feel all of the fear that he was feeling. A small boy, at least the age of fourteen. With, by the looks of it, at least fifteen boys surrounding him in this messy circle. Eventually I saw one of the guys faces, I'm assuming he either knew the man or that face just stuck out to me. But all the others looked as if they didn't have a face, as if they were blacked out like something you would see in a movie. 

There were at least a few black men, several white men, maybe a few of the tan colored men (whether they were Asian or Spanish is beyond me). But they were angry... Maybe even drunk a little... It could be one of those gang initiations, I really don't know... I didn't see much else other than this poor boy getting killed. 

The man that stuck out to me was just standing there, watching it happen... I know that he was one of the friends, or whatever they were, because he was among the men in the circle. He had one of those strong type of faces, like you'd see on men like Chris Hemsworth. But he had brown hair and shaggy, dirty, beard. He was wearing a navy blue shirt, or maybe it was a jacket, I don't really know. I just know that whatever he was wearing it was definitely navy blue. He looked strong, not as strong as Chris, more like... His brother, Liam... Not AS strong but just strong enough... 

(I don't know who else to use as examples, they just popped to my head)

Then there's the boy, a scrawny little guy that looked as if he couldn't hurt a fly. Like Napoleon from that movie Napoleon Dynamite: Skinny, barely any arm muscles... He had short brown hair, buzz cut style. He was wearing a short sleeve, sky blue, stripped shirt with the two little buttons and the collar on it that boys wear. Dark blue jean pants and light color tennis shoes, either grey or white (I don't really know).. 

I was standing some distance away, at the entrance of the alley way, and they were just far enough into the alley that no one could see them. It was around midnight on a night that the moon wasn't so bright. The men were just going at it so many hits and kicks you couldn't imagine how painful it was. But I could feel it all, every hit and kick was like someone was hitting you with a hammer in multiple places on your body as hard as they could. But I wasn't focused on that, I was focused on the boy. 

He was reaching out to me as if to say; "You can stop this, please... Help me." 

I started to reach out to him as well, wanting nothing but to pull him out of that mess... Then I woke up... And what I saw when I woke up was that boy... Instead of me standing over him this time, he was standing over me. Looking down at me with a curious feel about him. I could still feel his sadness and pain but I could also feel his curiosity. It was as if he didn't expect me to try and help him. But he was standing over me at a ninety degree angle, his feet on the floor and his head just a few inches away from mine. 

We did nothing but stare at each other for a few minutes... Till I looked away at the time. When I went to look back at him, he was gone. He just vanished as if all he wanted was for someone to know what happened to him. I couldn't fall back asleep after that because it was already five in the morning and too bright in my room for me to fall back asleep. So I ended up just laying in bed after that, thinking to myself and staring at the ceiling. 

Author's Note

A true story, a terrible "dream", and a boy by my bed.