Thursday, April 27, 2006

Act3: Bushel Street

OK... I managed to finish the audio for act 3. I still need to write act 6 so don't expect Act4 next week. Aiight, here you go... Act 3... ENJOY...:P

Turbulent Seed: Dark Justice

ACT3: Bushel Street

Click the play button to Play audio along with story.

I feel a cold chill in my stomach as I remember that dreadful night…the night of my rape…the night of my mother’s murder. It replays in my mind like a kid replaying his favorite scene from his favorite movie…over and over and over again. I can’t shake it…my drive, my motive, my life: and just like that I dispel the thought as if it never happened, like a day dream. My mind refocuses. This incident serves as a distraction and if I am not careful, it’ll get me killed, but this is my fuel. The task…I did manage to fit a piece of the puzzle from the two thugs I killed 3 days ago. The cops are smart. They’ll find it too and figure it out.

The girls on Bushel Street are notorious for being loose. Prostitutes litter the streets like confetti. Old rundown building makes for whore houses. Bushel Street resembles the streets of 19th century England, narrow and tight. Garbage is a common sight and the scent of filth and liquor fill the air….Acrid… The police sweep this place clean every week but the sick lowlifes keep returning. Bushel Street was once known for its inviting shopping outlets. Now those outlets harbour criminal degenerates. You won’t find the working class hanging around here. They just drive through. Every once in a while, though, you’ll find an executive or two in one of the whore houses. Filth.

This is where the Night Soldiers spend their money. If it’s not spent on drugs and weapons, it’s spent on the cheap sex. The girls love it because it’s money in their pockets. It’s also a safe bet that they won’t get raped without it being paid for. That is where I end up. Bushel Street. Dressed in the flesh of a harlot… There is a man I want to meet tonight…and this is the place I am guaranteed to find him. He goes by the name Shakespeare. Word on the street says he gets poetic with his shi*, using scriptures to justify his vile acts. Pathetic piece of horse shi*; it’s him I need to see. I expose myself for the first time dressed as a harlot. I feel the raging heat of the night beat on my shoulders. I see the men watch me pass by the ways. I see the Bushel Street harlots eye me with disgust as if to say, “you’re not gonna’ be cashing in on my men tonight.” Stupid whores, only if they knew my intentions. I approach one of the men on the streets. I say… “Hey sugar, I’m wondering if you can help satisfy my curiosity tonight.” The masculine figure in front of me smells like hard liquor. He’s had one too many, and it shows. He responds…”I could definitely satisfy any thing you want. How much do you charge? I hope it ain’t an arm and a leg, cause’ with a body like that I’d gladly give them up.” His breath almost suffocates me. Piercing like a needle to my nostrils. He grabs my rear. I must play along. “You’re new here aren’t you,” he asks. He raises my hand and views the purple bracelet, a signature for all the Bushel Street prostitutes. One of the harlots approaches us and grabs the crotch of the man in front of me. “Is this bitc* wanting to take you from me darling,” she says. “Get off my nuts Elsa, I’m going for this new pussy tonight”, he replies. She stares with disgust and calls me a bitc*. I don’t care… Normally a phrase like that would get her arm broken in two places with her leg facing the opposite direction; but I didn’t care. I had a job to do. I move in closer to the man in front of me, stomaching his horrid scent. I whisper in his ears. “I will fuc* you in more ways than one if you tell me what I want to know.” I figure in his drunken state he’d reveal anything to anyone. I ask him…”Where can I find the one they call Shakespeare?” I watch him stumble back a bit before he says. “Oh baby…baby, you know not just any woman can see Shakespeare, unless you’re one of his VIP, money making, hoes, and…you’re just a toddler”. I move his hand to my chest and whisper again…”That’s too bad… I guess you won’t be riding this train tonight.” I turn to move the opposite direction. I feel his hand grab mine. I got him. I play him like a game of checkers. He’s too horny to figure it all out. Before long I find out all I need to know. I find out Shakespeare’s location, his first rate harlot, and his rotation. He’s the biggest pimp around. “So how about that night of wonderland fuc*ing,” the man in front of me asks. He grabs at my rear and pulls my hair as I try to bail. Wrong decision, but I can’t do anything here now. I must not expose anymore of myself. “You promised me some good loving, baby, and I expect you to deliver like a whore suppose to,” he says. “Sorry not tonight cowboy,” I reply. I watch as he removes a blade from his right pants pocket, and starts swinging it violently. I remember how I killed those two thugs in the alley three nights ago. I haven’t killed since then and this low life son-of-a-bitc* was asking for it. His death would be as easy as breathing but I couldn’t kill him. He was too far gone. I manage to push him off me and I watch him stumble in the street. Bushel Street is not usually busy with traffic this time of night, usually the streets are ghost, and every one recognizes each car that pulls in.
My aggressor is now standing in the middle of the street calling me all sorts of perverse names. I act as the helpless victim to keep up my role. I see it coming but I did nothing. A loud crash erupted in my ears followed by a piercing screech…then silence filled the air. My aggressor was hit by a car. My immediate problem was fixed. I watch as people rushed to surround my former aggressor.
I didn’t kill him. I did not kill him. He died of his own stupidity and filth. The driver of the car was obviously intoxicated with alcohol. I spotted something wrapped around is upper left arm, giving me the idea that he was maybe also high on heroin or something of the sort.
I must now find Shakespeare. The bastard has young teenage girls as his highest paid solicitors. The men love it. Bushel Street…tainted with the corruption of illegal prostitution, drugs and filth. I make my exit easily. All focus and attention is now on the dead victim in the middle of the street.
The cops will be here soon. I must hurry. I look for a phone to make a call.


At Thursday, April 27, 2006 6:31:00 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

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-Yo cuz, Nick

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