Writing

THE FALL

Afro Punk

It didn’t use to be this way. I wanted to something more than the ordinary. I wanted to help the city where I grew up in. A city were the corrupt and those blind to what they see around them are all guilty of something. As a kid my father was what the papers called a hero cop, someone who would see what others chose not to and do something about it. Though in a city this bad “doing something” can draw a lot of attention from unwanted people. Though when they came for my father in the middle of the night and kidnapped me they left the message “come do something about it hero cop.” I was five when I was taken and I was held in the dregs, which is a part of the city where the rules, the law, cops really don’t matter. I can only remember pieces of my time being a captive. Most of it seeming like a horrible dream at times when I can remember. I was held for eight months and when I was finally forcibly rescued by my father. I remember the feeling of being near death and half conscious. I remember because it still wakes me up at night and keeps me awake, even twenty years later.

Later on in my life I decided that I would never be a victim. I was an angry kid often getting into fights like I had something to prove, it be to myself or the world I was never sure as a kid. My father was into martial arts and began to train me when I was twelve. He used to say I had a natural affinity for it and saw something special when I practiced. I still felt incomplete, like there was still a piece missing from me. Like the piece those bastards stole from me the night they kidnapped me. I still felt I had to prove I could get it back. This really began to manifest itself when I was sixteen there was a women being mugged on the street near where I ran about two and a half miles from the outskirts of the dregs. This was a common thing but the thug then began to harass the women and grab her. I knew where this was headed and something inside me told me I could not stand for this. So at the first opportunity I intervened, I guess by intervene I mean broke the guys arm and knee cap. I fled before the cops showed up, the women got my name, or even got a good look at my face for that matter. It was then when I got home and finally could bring myself to stop shaking that I knew how I could make the fear, the anger, and the feeling of not being complete vanish. Then be replaced by strength, power, and the feeling of being compelled to protect those from the fear this city can bestow upon them. I thought this way once innocent and naïve. Thought I could change this city by working on the outside of things. Not playing by the cops’ rules nor the thugs who believe they own this city. That was all before I fell into this city’s darkness and truly saw what this place was and what it would take to have a chance at saving it.

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