Chapter 2

Chapter Two

            Everyone has a purpose. I tend to see people take that in a positive way much of the time. Not the case. The only way light can exist is if the darkness follows. Just as Good can only exist if Evil is behind it.

Where do you begin in describing a man whom you don’t completely understand? His childhood was your average. Father gone, but a loving man took his place. Son of immigrants who did what they could. They had clothes on their back and plenty of food on the table. All the right variables for a great outcome. Except on thing. The city. The city tricks us into thinking it us our friend. One who offers comfort, relief and promises of riches. Our naïve minds tend to draw us to the city. Or so I thought. I am starting to think it is not our minds. But our purpose that does.

His parents are old fashioned. Not much excitement in their lives. They iron, cook and go to work. Day in and day out. “I need to get out of here. I am not going to end up like that!” the thought I presume, which may have started it all. Anyone can go out, let loose with friends and come back home. Be fulfilled for the day. It was that deep yearning for destruction that he was really feeling. When he set an abandoned building on fire at 10 years old. Stole his dad’s car in the middle of the night every weekend at the age of 12. Or smoked his first rock with his uncles at 13. It was not pain or guilt he felt. It was exhilaration and peace. Peace that this City was his home and everything that was in it belonged to him.

            You just could not help but love him. Always wore the nicest clothes, well groomed, and a way with words that could convince you the sky was red. Or that he could turn all your savings into a fortune if you just gave him that chance. Los Angeles was seeing its first wave of street gangs. And anybody who wanted to be anybody was had a part in it. This was not necessarily his idea of a “good time”. More of a thing to do when he felt like doing it. Plus the woman he attracted made everyone want to be his friend more than his enemy. But everyone has a weakness. And his was simply the numbness. Drugs. And not one in particular. All of them. This is what they could offer him.

            His natural intelligence mixed with his family’s city roots made him the man. Everyone was there to guide him into exactly where he wanted to be. His main goal. To take over the world. Of course his world was the small city of Lawndale,Ca where everyone knows everyone’s last name. But it was enough for him. It makes me wonder what a rolling stone like him wanted with my mother. He knew she was after a family. A normal life to say. He basically seen her grow up along with her older brothers. No secret there. Maybe he felt it was just the thing to do in life. You have kids and get married. You see the thing about the City though, is when you think you are done with it. It has a way of dragging you back with it. Asking for payment for everything it gave you in the past. A debt that can only be paid with your life.

            It wasn’t close to being what he thought. A paycheck that would be the same every week. A woman who will always be the same mind body and spirit. Kids who don’t always offer laughs and joy. This wasn’t what he had in mind. But to throw it all away? And be branded scum? “I can have both!” This is what people say when they make the worst decisions of their life. That is exactly what he tried to do. The woman were now let back in. Some even having a real relationship with him. The drugs consumed and hidden in the bathroom. The money he could now use on the cars he had once driven down Hawthorne Boulevard with the breeze hitting his face. What else could a man ask for? A lot more. Because it would never be enough. And that fear of being branded scum. That was now something he could live with.

            All good things must come to an end. The cat was out of the bag so to speak. Woman calling into my mother about their affairs. His kids finding stashes of drugs hidden in the lights. His self-control. Completely gone. He was now a lunatic. A man with one purpose. To destroy everything he touched. I have seen him come and go more times than you can imagine. And in each time never did he hug us goodbye. Never did he stare with regret. The only thing we received was a house destroyed. A mother sitting at a table staring into nothing. And the hope that this time, would be the last time he walked out that door.

His luck would soon run out. And he would fall into the prison system. His words were no longer as smooth and his appearance drifted with age. We were now in a place. A place you never prepare for or expect. All the dreams and hope that once filled the air have now vanished. Willpower and determination gone. We are now…….broken.

Reviews

[Kyle Wieczorek]

I really can sense and feel the brokeness of this character after just reading the first two chapters of your story. Although his life appears to be rough, he does seem to have a sense of pride and dignity to him in spite of his circumstances. I wondered what inspired you to write about a character with these kind of circumstances, and if you plan on publishing.

[GhostWriter]

This is actually a true story. An auto biography about my life. When I started I thought it was going to just be a diary of sort. Now its become this. I am hoping my people understand my writing style. I am really trying to take myself back to the ages I was in each part of the story. Almost as if it is a diary In real time.

[Kyle Wieczorek]

That's what I was going to ask but didn't. Your writing style really puts the reader in your shoes and paints a very vivid image.