Black Short Stories : Hood Miseries (Part 1)


Well-Known Member
Jul 2, 2003
da south............ATL
"Misery! Misery I know you hear me!" My mother yelled at me from upstairs.

My mother was a drunkard. She was never at home but you can bet when she was that the whole neighborhood knew she was back. Her mouth, her mouth was so loud. She was the direct opposite of myself. I was so soft spoken and I didn't like anything but my music. I could sing. Boy could I sing. But who would have known my singing would end my life. But anyways, we'll get back to that.

"Yes Wanda." I called her on the fact that she didn't like to be called mama because she thought she was still young.

"Go down to the corner store and get me a bud light." She said laying next to some stranger she had brought back home with her this time.

My thoughts were she didn't know a thing about him. All she was worried about was his money and how much liquor she could buy with it. I shook my head every time she drunk because I knew everytime she she drunk something I was in for a beating when she had nothing else to do.


I walked down to the corner store with my head down as usual. And as usual some man older than me tried to holler at me. Mama beat me every time she heard some man tried to talk to me from a neighbor and everyone knew that. Sometimes I was taunted because of that. To tuned out the men though I would always just sing louder. I know that made the men in the neighborhood think I was crazy but all my life my songs, my music, have comforted me.

When I made it to the corner store Old Man Chan was there to greet me as always. He was an old man with old school charm. He was the perfect gentleman and he always complemented me on my beauty and voice. I liked him.

"Hey there old man." I walked in with a smile.

"Hey there beau-ty-full." His accent hesitated the words.

"Nice day today, huh." I said.

"Yes, yes, very nice." He said.

I walked back to the back where the alcoholic beverages were to the bud lights. As I walked I sung and I swayed my hips. Old Man Chan liked when I came in with my song. He said it filled the air with love.

"Its hard out there to find a man like you
A man who can do the things you do
Take care of family pay bills when due
A **** good man to me and my kids too." I sung

As I sung a man looked at me over some racks. I could sense it but I didn't look. I just walked back up the ailsle with the beer and to the counter.

"That's all?" Old Man Chan said.

"That's all."

"Misery, its on the house. I know one day your voice will shine to millions and you'll look out for me." Old Man Chan smiled.

"Aw, sure I will old man. Sure I will." I smiled back at him.

"What if that day could be soon?" A man said from the back of me.

I turned around to him. When I turned around I wished I hadn't. I dropped the **** beer on the floor like a retard. I was shocked that the man was so fine. His hair was curly. He was mixed with something. I'm not sure what it was though. He stood about 6'2 and his earrrings were blinding me. His smile. His smile when he saw how I looked at him was genuinely breathtaking. Considering this was the first man who ever made me feel this way I felt stupid.

"Aw dang, I'm sorry Mr. Chan. I'll give you the money for it and clean it up." I apologized.

"No, no, no.....just go get another one." He shoo'ed me away.

I walked back to the back to get the beer. And then I thunk Mr. Chan again. "Thanks again."

"No problem." He said as he cleaned up the mess.

Mr. Handsome was nowhere to be found by the time I made it to the door. This was kind of a good thing. I didn't want to chance anyone seeing me talk to him.

"Hey, hey, hey. Can I talk to you for a second about that there voice of yours? Its beautiful." He said.

"No I'm fine. And thanks I've been told that alot." I said shyly and walked away.

"Wait, I'm a producer and manager. I can take you places. Trust I've done it before. Just at least take my card."

I smiled. "Thanks." And again I walked away without ever planning on calling him at all.

To be continued............


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