Run - a Short Story

Run.

The sound of gunshots could be heard for blocks. The adrenaline surged in DeShawn's head as he fled the scene. He ran. Slowly blood trickled down his face, yet somehow, he didn't feel. He came to a stop outside the derelict building that was all his family could afford. Quaking from fear, he slumped on the filthy pavement and everything went black.

It was all he had ever known. Drugs, violence and crime. The forlorn streets of Brownsville, Brooklyn left little hope of pursuing the American Dream. Seeing a white face was something of a novelty around these parts. Some escaped the torment of Brownsville, but most either died or spent the rest of their lives in prison. The streets were scattered with bodies, either homeless or recently dead. Those who couldn't keep up with their public housing payments were simply thrown out on the street and added to the problem. DeShawn's father was in prison, serving life for triple homicide. His mother, a heroin addict was useless. DeShawn and his sister were left to care for the twelve other children. School wasn't something that mattered. At sixteen, DeShawn had been out of school for two years already. There was no point. He was stuck in this life.

One thing stood above all for DeShawn despite everything. Basketball was his only hope. For hours he would go and play. He would enter his own world, away from all his troubles. It was a way to forget. DeShawn loved the aesthetics of basketball, he loved the athleticism of the players, the antics of the coaches and above all the dynamism of the fans and their passion for their colours. When he was four his father had taken him to a New York Knick's game. This was only months before he would never see his father again. This was the night he fell in love with basketball. One thing that struck DeShawn above all was the noise, the buzz and the electricity in the stadium. That night, he promised himself he would walk out on that court one day. But then everything had changed.

Three shots, three lives, gone in three quick muzzle flashes. The seeming simplicity of these actions would not pay justice to what was to come. Firstly, one family lost all but one son. Three children gunned down, a family's horror that would never fade. Another family losing a father. DeShawn was not ready at this stage to take over the family, but with