The Death Of The Toxic Powder

Outside, a deep silence fell over the neighborhood. This silence crept into every household. Members of the community had a guise of anger and pain expressed on their faces. Everyone locked themselves inside, to lament such a tragedy that has brought sorrow to a twelve years old’s family. Parents fell on their knees with tears in their eyes. This last murder represented the final straw. So many of their own had been murdered by the malicious, metallic, monsters that were supposed to be the defenders of their community. They felt insecure, threatened by the

attitude of matchless grace and dignity. Ah how beautiful she is! He springs forward with

The shooting comes as a result of conflict over territory between two rival gangs. When talking

She returned to our bed and laid down on the edge. “I know what you are thinking.”

I had to tell the gang about Johnny's death. It frightened me to tell them, I didn't know how they'd react. Once I told them, they didn't openly express their emotions, but I knew later in private they would. Then, we got a telephone call. Dally had contacted us from a phone booth, telling us how he had robbed a grocery store and how now the cops are after him. Figures, that Dally would do something so reckless. We met him at the lot, where the police were chasing him. He swiftly pulled his gun out that he used as a bluff from his waistband, as my eyes widened in fear. Only Johnny and I knew that the gun he carried was unloaded. The policemen fired at Dally and just like that the gang had lost another member. I then comprehended that Dally

I find myself looking over my shoulder every time I step outside my front door. Violence has opened my eyes and destroyed my dreams of peace. When I first moved to Philadelphia from Puerto Rico, I moved into a neighborhood that was full of gangs and drugs. Philadelphia represented a new start, a chance for me to breathe again. I had experienced a tragic shooting right before my ten year old eyes in Puerto Rico; my mom’s best friend was killed, while the murderer calmly walked away. We escaped to Philadelphia, and I thought my days of witnessing horrific violence were over. However, my dreams were shattered like gunshots in the night. One day, while I was napping, I was awoken by a series of deafening pops. As soon as I heard them, I dropped

When the gunshot rang through my ears, I, as well as everyone around me was stunned in confusion, fear, and lack of comprehension. They looked around to see where the bullet had landed and noticed him, a man in his late forties looking down at his stomach. The hand that covered the area was stained with a thick, dark red color that coated his clothing. The crowd drew away from him as he fell to his knees, just realizing that he’d been shot and he was going to die. When he looked up at the police, they looked away, ashamed of their actions and unaware of the impact his death would have on his family, his friends.

Bright, yellow police tape with bold, black letters spelling the word “Caution” blocked off the corner right next to Subway. White outlines curved to form the shape of a body and pieces of shattered glass littered the floor. The picture in front of me looked like a crime scene right out of CSI or Law and Order; however, I just kept walking with my dad down the block because it was nothing new in Flatbush, Brooklyn. Just like the crime, the smell of weed and boys on the corners were common, so common that I grew up thinking that it was part of growing up. However, after thirteen years of living in Flatbush, I have to think hard to remember events such as these. Honestly, it is never the first, second, or even third thing that comes to mind when

"Well," the king held his head high, "I believe I must have you two dismissed. You two should get some sleep and think about this tomorrow, I mean, later in the morning," the king laugh awkwardly.

Every now and then, the sounds of gunshots could be heard in the distance, signifying the tragic death of another. I felt bad for whoever the victim

My heart drops. How could this be happening? Why here? Why here ever? I prayed Please God, make this go away. Restore my happiness. As I finish, I see a nurse having a panic attack. I start to panic myself. A few minutes went by. Boom Boom Boom . As everyone quiets down, all they could think about was the identity of this person. Who is he? Was he the shooter? “NYPD!” an officer yells out from behind the door. I can

“I am working on that, I promise. She needs more time, but as soon as she’ll have me, if I’m lucky enough, we will marry.”

The police look at each other in fear. Their once black and blue suits, stained with thick red suicide. Faint ticking is heard throughout the bar, but everyone thought it was a watch. The four men inspect everyone in the bar, everyone is calling family, friends, or trying to get a ride home. The four police crouch down over Mr. Carter's dripping body. The biggest of the men get closer, presses his black boot covered foot onto the blood-stained counter, and puts his glove covered hands on one cheek on Mr. Carter's face.

I hit the floor as the door is cracked open enough to just let the barrels of the guns in. I kick the table down for shelter as bullets light up the room, violently going everywhere. I knock the chair down to protect my head and chest as I lay in my side, waiting for the shots to pass. There’s nothing I can do besides wait it out. My arms are crossed over my head and I curl my knees into my chest, making myself as small as possible. The dinging of the bullets hitting the metal walls and the floors barely lasts ten seconds. It’s a miracle that I don’t get shot myself.

“Sounds good.” Ryder quickly supplied, grinning in relief. Having any time with Gio was a blessing.