By Tamyara Brown
I inherited the name Snake because of my blue black skin. The two fangs that appeared when I smile and I use to stand as tall as the oak tree in my back yard. Why am I telling you this? Before my untimely death I had plans. Who ever said dead men don't tell tales is lying? I hope my story teaches you a lesson that life is short and we plan God knows our ultimate fate. Look at my wife mourning my death, my children crying and my poor mother. I died for twenty one dollars and my murderer is in the room.
So many faces, so many tears and yet no one knows who would take my life. Who would rob me of money I'd would have freely given. Hours before the bullets shot me in the back. I plan a night of taking my family for bowling and pizza. I plan on sharing laughter and once our children where asleep. I plan on making love to my wife. Notice I said planned but instead I stop to buy flowers for my wife and puck up some Ms. Peachez Sweet potato pie.
The gentleman approached me and pulled a gun. His voice echoed in the air. I raised my hand and said,
"Brother take what you need?"
He rambled through my pockets, pulled two tens and a dollar. He was suppose to walk away but instead for reason unknown to me he pulled the trigger and two bullets enter my chest. His eyes opened wide and as I dropped to the floor. I heard him utter,
"I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."
Blood pour from my chest and I felt weak. I cough and in my head all I could think about is I was suppose to take my family out. That I would be leaving them and that all my life people called me Snake and no one knew my real name, Reginald Campbell. My murderer's name is Roger Campbell my brother took my life.
©2015 Tamyara Brown- Tamluvstowrite
Author Tamyara Brown
My love for writing is unconditional. It is my sanity in this crazy world.