The Cause

The Posse

He awoke with a jump. It was his brother rolling in drunk! Damn only 4am  please don’t go over what’s to happen again. I know I must do this. I must prove myself.

It was all too easy a year a go when his best friend introduced him to the boys “you need to know” It had been simple things at first making old ladies jump, stealing traffic cones all laughing fit to burst.

When he was really trusted, got himself a name.Things became more serious it suddenly was  a whole new game. They met the older boys, the ones with  big fast cars. They all wore hoodies, bling and they all had facial scars.

It was money and messages that he had to run he was fit and had a bike.Now that is how easily it had begun. He often skipped school though not always willingly. There really was not any choice, what the big boys said, had to be.

His teachers all asked him why his work had slipped away he had a brilliant future and he had thrown it all away. He was a little worried but he shrugged his shoulders and wondered off, his teachers  called him back but his friends told them to f### off.

Mum, she was desperate working on her own doing all she could to keep the house,the boys and make for them a home. The oldest she had lost him he had gone to drugs. She had tried so hard but he just robbed her blind and made  her look a mug.The young one she had dreams for she had prayed to the Lord each day but now he was on the wrong track and now he was slipping the same way.

He knew he had become a waster, he knew that he was bad . It was the only way to be accepted and safe but the pain in Mum’s eyes made him feel bad. So he just avoided contact and hardened to her pleas. He was knocked back the other day when she begged him to stay home down on her knees.

He tried to ask his brother who ran with an older crew but he was useless as he was trapped there too. What chance was there, his brother asked, what was there for them to do  there was no work or opportunities  running with lads was at least something to do. It was all about status  and how hard you are , what clothes you wore , what trainers and did you have a scar.

His brother had one, his was on his face, from a fight with a rival gang. Okay it hurt , six days in hospital 17 stitches but he was now a big man?? Today was his chance to join the glorious crew. To take part in the big ruck was all he had to do.

Two weeks he had known about the fight , where and exactly when. It was on his mind both day and night . His thoughts were full of dread , through his blood ran pure fear  it was nearly six now, the day was finally here.

Later in the kitchen when he was taking the knife , his mother caught him and shouted at him. He raised his hand to her for the first and last time in his life. Luckily she was small so he pushed to one side he crashed through the door and out the gate . His mother sat on the floor and cried.

Later he met the guys when mum had gone to work , they knew a squat they could use to complete their plan. By 4o’clock they were jumpy they were ready to a man.They left the squat and through the railing ran. Jumping , punching the air and making feral calls they had it now they all knew the plan, they had all the balls.

He wished he’d picked a smaller knife this one was too large . As he was changing it’s position into him  a couple of the lads all barged. At once he felt a sharp and stinging pain as he fell to the floor, it felt worse again. His side felt wet and his forehead was cut where he had scraped along the floor..

By Banksy

What’s wrong man, stop messing  we haven’t got the time it’s 5 oclock now hear those church bells chime. Oh! hey you’re hurt man what did you do. You stupid f### you stabbed yourself. We have to leave you here, no good to have a burden on the crew.

His best friend helped him in to the church and sat him at the back , hold on, he said, laters then ran off to join the pack.

So he alone now, life ebbing from his side thought of mum, school his brother and he cried. He asked the lord for comfort but comfort did not come. He prayed a childhood prayer from deep inside his mind. The priest found him,and he was very kind. He wrapped his chest and held him and asked him not to go . He tried to but he couldn’t stay he felt too tired too low.

He heard the priests’ desperate call as he slipped away forget the ambulance he though and just pray for me today. The priest felt him go, but he would not loose his grip he felt he needed to guide this lost boy, some mothers pride and joy.

10 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. zendictive
    Oct 17, 2011 @ 16:57:18

    so many youths, take the path to be the tough guy like their peers, only to live not so long. I know when I had my birthday I thought of how many I knew that never made it to their twenties… bows (~_~) humble…a powerful write that should be read those entering their teens.


  2. giselzitrone
    Oct 17, 2011 @ 18:39:46

    Schön geschrieben kann ja alles lessen mit der Googel Übersetzung wünsche dir einen schönen Abend und einen ganz lieben Gruss von mir Gislinde.


    • willowdot21
      Oct 17, 2011 @ 20:49:24

      Es ist eine Schande müssen wir die Google-Übersetzung verwenden, aber ich hoffe, Sie können die Nachricht Ich denke, es ist ein wichtiger one.Thank Dank für Ihre Anmerkungen zu bekommen. haben einen guten Abend und danke Ihnen für Ihre Unterstützung. X


  3. willowdot21
    Oct 17, 2011 @ 20:01:23

    Thank you , as I have said before this is a situation I feel passionate about! x


  4. Vampire Weather
    Oct 18, 2011 @ 20:27:56

    This, bearing so many resemblances to your previous post, is a vivid story. Told of experience or imagination, I do not know, but real it was in your mind at least, and so crisply displayed. It reminds me of an old Dragnet TV show called “The Big War”. The desperate cycle you describe–the frustration of being trapped in a course and the pain it causes your family–is very familiar to me, having worked with youth. It is amazing how we can submerge ourselves in a culture of our own creation with our own standards and be unable to see from the outside. We are all guilty of that in some way. We seek for something more than what we have, and sometimes we find things we were not looking for. A tragically well-written piece, my friend


  5. willowdot21
    Oct 18, 2011 @ 21:12:51

    Thank you, I just hope one boy or girl will read it and they may think twice. This boy died before he even got to the fight , he died by accident, for nothing. These boys celebrate scars they feel they make them look like men. they think they can get rich quick on drugs money, shoot or knife their enemies ..what have we come to?


  6. penpusherpen
    Oct 19, 2011 @ 10:22:03

    lost boys, Willow, two words describe the culture we’re now facing with a lot of youngsters. All through human life there has been gang culture, always the desperate need to fit in, become one with the ‘in’ crowd. The lesson is usually learned all to late, with a loss of life before a realisation that the quick and violent way to gain recognition is not the route to take.. xPenx


  7. willowdot21
    Oct 19, 2011 @ 18:22:27

    You are so right Pen but what can we do? XX


  8. Androgoth
    Oct 20, 2011 @ 18:10:43

    Unfortunately this is happening all over these days, if one isn’t in a gang then they feel that they are a nobody. I guess it is a culture that many do not understand and do not wish to get involved with…

    A very good posting Willow 🙂

    Androgoth XXx


  9. willowdot21
    Oct 20, 2011 @ 18:26:39

    Thank you Androgoth it is a very sad state of affairs. which is why I wrote this trilogy. We can’t all keep turning away we need to say our lost boys. Thank you again. xxxx


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