Story

[SamChabs]

Re: Story

<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: Nunya</div><div class="ubbcode-body">Thanks Mrs Nooky! I am wishing for cool days too... </div></div>

Good Day Nunya, how are you doing? Gud? Great, now get on with the next instalment PLEASE. I really enjoy your stories.

[Nunya]

Re: Story

That night, Mya found that she couldn't stay still. She was unsettled being in her apartment. She was jumpy. Shadows and all noises made her start. Finally, in exasperation and for the sake of her own sanity, she decided to go for a walk.

It was a hot night, yet she wore a parka, for the cold still had a grip on her bones. She knew if her mother were to see her now, she'd be chastised for being too maaga and not taking good enough care of herself. Mya swallowed a sob, her fists stuffed into the front pockets of her jeans, her shoulder hunched against the world. She wished she could go home. She wished she could just be there with her Mom and her sisters and her little brother. She imagined how it would be now, on a hot night like this: they would all be sitting in the living room the fan blazing, her mother's hand going like mad as she swung the opened exercise-book (most likely her son's) back and forth in an effort the cool the area of her personage that the fan's hot expulsion was unable to reach.

The lights would probably be off: her mother was fanatical about conserving power and lessening the severity of the light bill. The fan going at the same time as the light bulbs being on? Unheard of! So they would all be sitting in the dark which was not as bad or primitive as it might sound. And everyone would be talking, speaking from their souls. Saying things they would not normally say with the incandescent light illuminating their faces. Stories would be told - funny, innocent, provocative ones. Most true. Daily activities would be recounted but sometimes coached in a way to lightly conceal identity. That aspect was irrelevant. The stories were what mattered. The incidences. And how they were handled. Everyone would offer advice or applaud the outcome.

Mya remembered the night they'd all sat in the living room, a rare moment of silence having descended only broken by the dull whirring of the fan, the crinkling of the pages of her brother's workbook going back and forth and the clinking of the ice in the glasses of lemonade. She knew that like her, they were all lounging around, too hot to sit on ceremony, their lightweight clothing sticking to their body in places like cling wrap. Maybe the heat had been too much for anyone to even speak, she couldn't quite recall, but she did remember what broke the silence. Her younger sister Melody saying quietly, &quot;Big Boi grab mi yessiday.&quot;

The silence got deeper. The ice clinking ceased as did the rustling of the book. No one said anything, waiting for Mama to give the direction this piece of news would take.

&quot;Whichawt?&quot; Mama asked.

Melody's voice was soft, her emotions seemingly suspended. &quot;Mi walk Sasha to de bus-stop and wait wid har til she get de bus. Den mi walk home dung Hughenden.&quot;

&quot;Hmph.&quot;

&quot;Mi had was to pass de ackee tree whe dem always deh.&quot;

&quot;Mek yuh nayin cross de road?&quot;

Mya could feel her sister's shrug. &quot;Mi notice say dem didda play domino, musi ongle chree a dem mi tink. Yeah, a was chree a dem, cawse das why when im si mi a come im stawt call out to mi. Mi say hi back and mi tell im say mi late. A dat time im grab mi an say mi fi stay likkle bit an play two game.&quot;

&quot;So im grab yuh pon yuh han.&quot;

Mya heard the pages of the exercise book as Mama started a slow fan.

&quot;Yeah, but im grab an kina pull mi in...&quot;

The rustling stopped.

&quot;Pull yuh into wha?&quot;

&quot;Mama...!&quot;

&quot;Chile, talk to me!&quot;

&quot;You kno! Im just kinda drag mi like...&quot;

&quot;Hmph.&quot;

They waited. Melody filled the silence, her words becoming a ramble as she sought to justify her actions and explain the incident. &quot;Mi couldn cross de road Mama! Dat ooda did look a way an mi tell yuh say mi always say hi to dem caw mi nuh want dem fi tink say mi tink mi betta dan dem, yuh know?&quot; Her voice was pleading. Mama said nothing and Melody continued, &quot;Mama, whe mi did fi do? Eeh? Im hol awn pon mi han an stawt pull mi an mi neva did waa struggle cawse it ooda did look a way an mi... mi...&quot; her voice ended on a sob and then there were the sound of quiet tears.

They held their collective breath, waiting for Mama.

The exercise book started up.

&quot;Tap ie nize, pikney,&quot; Mama's voice was gentle which caused Melody's tears to flow in earnest.

&quot;Crying nah go help yuh. Common sense. Mi try beat dis eena oonuu head from day one! Common sense wi tek yuh chroo. Now, common sense shouldan tell yuh say yuh nayn did fi walk dung dat de road deh by yuhself dem time a day deh. Matta fack, common sense shouldan tell yuh say yuh nuh ha nuh business a wait a bus-stop wid Sasha like yuh name man.

&quot;Numba two, yuh dun knoa say dem bwoy deh always undaneat dat deh tree deh a hole it up like a dat dem come a worl fah. So common sense shouldan tell yuh say yuh did fi cross de road from way up uppa top, from before yuh couldan si dem or dem couldan si yuh, cause at some pint, dem whenna go try get yuh fi come hole up de tree wid dem.

&quot;An since mi nayin bawn yuh fi hole up no tree fi a soul, yuh shouldan did tek precaution. Yuh undastan whe mi a say?&quot;

Melody murmured a yes.

Mama continued, the slow slap-slapping of the pages of the work book an accompanying beat. &quot;If yuh did feel say yuh had was fi say 'Hi', den say &quot;Hi' from cross de road. Instead, yuh sen yu common sense wid Sasha gawn a har yawd. So dis ol dutty crosses bwoy feel say im have de right fi come man-hangle yuh. So now yuh deh yah a bawl. Wha dat a go do? Eeh? Not a blastid ting but more headache pon top a whe mi already got!

&quot;So tap ie nize an listen hawd to whe mi a go tell yuh, whe mi a go tell <span style="font-style: italic">all</span> a oonuu! Oonuu nuh ha no pappy or no big bredda fi look out fi oonuu, so oonuu haffi learn how fi look out fi oonuu self. See de danger an avoid it! No badda come walk chroo ants nest den run come bawl to mi bout dem a bite yuh! Walk roun de blastid ants nest! But mek sure yuh know whichawt it deh, cawse if yuh lef ie alone fi too long, it a go feel say it can tek ova! Yuh undastan whe mi a say? So yuh affi find a way fi mash up de nest so dem can scatta, yuh si mi? Jus mek sure say dem cyaa find yuh, cawse dem wi bite yuh til yuh fawt!&quot;

The girls knew there was a message there, and they thought they had it, but could Mama really be saying what they thought she was? When no-one spoke up, Mya asked, &quot;Mama? Yuh mean say-&quot;

Mama cut her off, the increased rustling of the book pages and the hard clinking of the ice in her glass transmitting her sudden anger. &quot;Mi nat gwine spell it out! Big Boi finally lay im han pan har. If sitn nuh get done, im a go tink say im can dweet again, or do worse! Mi dun talk.&quot;

Now as Mya walked she remembered how she and her sisters had huddled outside at the back gate, their little brother in bed, their mother watching the late news. She remembered how they talked in hushed tones, hardly daring to put into words what Mama had said. She remembered how late they'd stayed out there and how Mama had not called them in as was her wont. She remembered the plan they'd come up with and and the consternation that had shone from their eyes as they'd stared at each other in fright.

Mya wished again that she was there with her sisters and her mother. That they could help her find a way to deal with this wrong. But she was alone and she knew that her assailants, whoever they were, would get away with it.

She walked along, tears streaming down her face, her head bent. She'd never felt more lost or more alienated. She wished she could go home.

[Phatty]

Re: Story



Wait...that's it? I didn't even get through half my bag of popcorn yet.

*run gaan*

[kia027]

Re: Story

keep going nunya

[SamChabs]

Re: Story



cant wait for next part

[nattydreadgirl]

Re: Story

Wow! Interesting read, leaves me wanting more....

(((Nunya)))

[Nunya]

Re: Story

Big shout out to all you guys who're enjoying the story!!!!!! Thanks for your encouragement!

I'll write some more later.

[mountaingal]

Re: Story

shoat oat back. mi a silent reader. u do have a neat hand with the suspense, looking forward to the next installment, whenever u ready (can't rush the creative process).

[Nunya]

Re: Story

Sgt Westcott was on patrol. He'd nabbed two speeders so far and he'd only been on for 45 minutes. He hated this aspect of his job. Who the hell cared about stupid dumb punks who figured it was a testament to their manhood (for it was more often than not, men) to press down on the accelerator and try to avoid the crash barriers, never mind the other vehicles on the road? He'd long lost the ability to be angry at them; now he was just mildly disgusted. There were so many bigger things to think of or fix in this world, in this neighbourhood. Bigger than dumb asses with a licence to drive.

The car sped by him, the music blasting from the open windows, arms sticking out, loud voices trying to compete with the din. He sighed and flipped on his lights. He found himself wishing they would attempt to run. But they didn't, they instead attempted to pull over, but climbed the curb instead. And from where he was, at maybe .25km behind, on the darkened street lit only by the flashing of the LED strobes on the cruiser, he could tell that they'd hit someone. Their yells were suddenly silent, though the base of the rap thumped on. Anxiety gripped him and he activated the siren's yelp and reached for his radio.

******

Jeffrey was feeling somewhat morose. He'd texted his boys and everyone was into something and couldn't hang. He kicked the ratty looking ottoman and plopped down onto the faux leather couch. He hated nights like this. Nights where his inadequacies and under achievements taunted him. He hated being alone. Jeffrey flipped the tv on. He did a quick scan through the guide and saw nothing that held his attention for more than a nanosecond. He muted the tv and dropped converter onto the couch next to him. He reached up and stretched his arms and extended his legs as far as he could and held the pose as long as he could. After a silent count of 30 one thousands, he felt the tremor begin. The ache followed soon after and the trembling became more pronounced. He squeezed his eyes tight shut and gritted his teeth as the pain from his extremities pooled in his groin and a different ache emerged. If only - if only! If only he could just hold it for a little bit longer, just. a. little. bit-

&quot;Argghhh!&quot; he screamed harshly. His limbs had failed him and were now lying limply on the couch and on the floor, pins and needles chastising him soundly. But he didn't care about that. He'd almost gotten relief. If he'd been able to hold it for just a little bit longer, he would have had the pleasure that only release gave. He rubbed his crotch and grimaced. Now not even <span style="font-style: italic">that</span> was pleasurable. He gave a snort of displeasure and removed his hand and stared sightlessly at the muted tv screen. There was a commercial on for some female razors and a nubile young black woman ran her hands caressingly over her toned legs. Jeffery sat up. She reminded him of Mya and he remembered the slightly salty taste of her. His loin stirred and he rubbed it into quietude. He'd had his eyes on her for a while now. Last week he'd finally been able to get close and, well, he could tell that she was receptive to the idea of him, of them. Jeffrey laughed.

He knew he had been stupid, hanging around with the guys at work who made stupid digs against her. But she wasn't singled out because she was black. She was just...different. She didn't hang out with them after work. She didn't go out for smoke breaks with them and he <span style="font-style: italic">knew</span> she smokes. She wouldn't even have a coffee with them during the slow periods. The fact is that they made digs against her because she acted as though she was better than they were. Which was just retarded considering that she was just a [censored] dishwasher!

Being with him would be a leg up for her. He smiled at the term as he watched the girl on tv run the razor through the foam up her silky leg. It's not as though he was going to date-date her anyway. He just wanted to get with her for a minute. He wanted to know what she'd be like. He'd heard about them, black girls. How they were. He wanted to know for himself. Why was he sitting here, feeling sorry for himself, trying to jack off when she was out there and would be happy to do it for him?

He jumped up, suddenly energized, the pins and needles having fled. [censored], he knew where she lived, he would go see her. She would be happy he did.

[MsExced]

Re: Story

loving it Nunya

[Nunya]

Re: Story

Thanks Ms Ex btw, yuh scarce eeh???? Life must be good...

[MsExced]

Re: Story

Mi scarce because work killing mi and mi little business on the side tek up mi nights

<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: Nunya</div><div class="ubbcode-body">Thanks Ms Ex btw, yuh scarce eeh???? Life must be good... </div></div>

[DearK]

Re: Story

Whats the dilly o?

[applepie]

Re: Story

friendly reminder

[Lacy]

Re: Story

Yuh gwan wan hole week, my gurl. Oonu tink dem laaaang &quot;to be continued&quot; ago tap dung di massive? Cho! Yuh cyaan stawt wan ting an hexpect we fi naah come ramp wid yuh fi dun.

Nunya--- Nunya--- NUNYA-- NUNYA---