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narrative
It’s July 1. I’m 1 years old. We are watching television in the living room. I hear a bird chirping outside the window of the living room. I pull the curtain wide open to see where the chirp was coming from. I saw a baby bird limping on the sidewalk, it must have fell out of the tree, I thought to myself. My instincts told me to go outside and bring the bird inside before a cat gets to it and eats it up. I turn to my brother, who is just sitting in the dining room next to me, and yelled out to him, “There’s a bird outside limping, lets bring it in the house until it gets better and then we’ll let it go.”
My brother and I dash to the door to get the bird. As we both got to the porch and ran down three painted red steps, the bird began to hop towards a bush on the side of the house. Every time we got closer to the bird the louder the bird began to chirp. As the bird reached the bush it was a lot harder to grab it because of all the thorns sticking out of bush. When I finally got hold of the bird and began reaching for it. A loud bang sound had gone of within the neighborhood. It sounded much like a firework that had gone off. I startled from the sound and dropped the bird out of my hand. My brother looked frightened, said to me that the sound of that bang, sounded like gunfire. I told him that it was just some firework down the street since it is almost Fourth of July. So we went back to trying to grab the bird and thought nothing of it. Bang, bang, bang! I startled again and this time I looked up to see what the noise really is. It turned out to be a sound of a gunfire that was coming from the bottom of the street from a brown, dirty, graffiti apartment. I see a man in black jeans and a gray T-shirt running up the hill with a gun in his hand. He is pointing the gun up towards the hill at a woman who is running in and out of the street screaming for help. I took a double look and I see the woman running towards my brother and I. The gun is going off directly at the woman. Dazed, shocked, and astonished I froze. I stood standing there by bush not moving or even thinking to run for safety. I am looking at them and I realize I needed to run into the house. It was the sound of the man’s voice, which made me move. He had a deep tone of voice and he is yelling with anger. “Come back here you bitch! (Bang, bang.) When I get you, you are going to die (bang.).” The woman screaming for help. My brother and I run towards the house and even before I reached the red porch to get inside the house I tripped over my slippers and almost fell. I didn’t look back I kept running, trying to get into the house. Soon as I got to the door I grabbed the door and almost shut my brother outside. My brother screamed, “Wait for me, don’t shut that door on me, you dumbass! Are you trying to leave me out here to get shot at?”
As we got into the house I screamed at the top of my lungs for my grandmother. I told her not to go outside or even look out the window because there is a man with the gun shooting at some woman. My grandmother being stubborn that she is peeps out the window anyways, after I had told her not to look out the window. So scared, I ran all over the house shutting every window and locking it. I even put the television on mute. Hours later several police cars was outside. They blocked the whole street and they went around asking the neighbors if they had heard or seen anything. The doorbell rings, I peep through the keyhole an I see and officer at the door. I ignore to open the door. Peeping out the living room window, I could here a conversation from the officers saying that they will stay on the block until a lot of evidence is gathered. I see one officer across the street bending down with his flashlight picking up something and placing it into a plastic bag. I assume it would be the bullet shells. The hard part was finding all of the bullet shells because across the street is my friends house. It’s a big white house white house with a big lawn. The grass was dead and there were so many dead weeds that grew as tall as your kneecaps. It was impossible to search for bullet shells there.
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A few days later my neighbor from across the street comes over to my house to play. We both sat on the front porch. He showed me what he had found on his front yard and it turned out to be a bullet shell. My friend had no idea how it gotten there. I spoke very softly to him telling him about the bullet shell an how it got there. I took the bullet shell away from him and tossed it into the street. As I am telling him the story, I glanced my eyes to a brown, dirty, graffiti apartment down the hill from my house. The only apartment on the block. As I told my friend the story I continue to look and glare at the apartment just in case I see him come out. So I can prepare myself to get inside the house.
Many weeks passed, I’m in the living room watching television and on every commercial break I would look out the window. As I was looking out the window I see the same man that shot at the woman driving a brown, dinted up Cadillac. He was driving the car so fast down the hill and before I could blink, the car rammed into the brown, dirty, graffiti apartment. The man jumps out of his car to escape and the women in the apartment runs out screaming and chasing the man. Minutes later, two cop cars come flying to the apartment in each direction, but by the time they got there those people had already left the sight. I swing the curtain to shut and I slightly peep out the window. This time around I didn’t tell my grandmother about what I had seen.
Everyday after that crash into the apartment, police cars patrol the block every hour. I was too scared to even want to live here anymore because every other day something bad happens.
Finally, one late night I hear sirens in front of the house and a bright beam. I looked out the window and I see so many cops outside. I’m frightened. Then I hear police voices on the side of the house near my bedroom. I run to my room to see if I had locked my window. I could hear sounds of the footsteps thumping towards the backyard of the house. I run to check the back door to see if it was locked. Through the back window I see the same man and in the sky a helicopter shining bright light at him. I see him trying to hop over the fence and he trips on a broken concrete in backyard. From a distance, I hear two officers running on the side of the house. Before the man could even get up the two officers pins the man down to the ground and began reading him his rights. That same night I couldn’t sleep, all I could think of was what had happened throughout the past few weeks. The only thing I could remember was a flashback of what had just happened. I was amazed that he was finally caught.
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