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Mr. Sad Boy

Mr. Sad Boy                                                                    Zareena Hill. Everywhere I go I see pieces of her. From the student that’s strolling to their 9am  class in pajamas to the old man on the train creasing his paperback book. Every little thing my mind can randomly at any given moment brings me back a Tsunami of memories. Yet, after all these months of trying to pretend she never existed not much had changed. I still loved her. Zars. My Zars. Nor anymore and not ever.  9:08am Damn I’m going to be late to meet Baba at the tea shop, the C train takes its sweet time like people don’t have shit to do. “Well hello there Brother Musa” I look up to see a familiar fang smile.  “It’s me Alan” “Al-” Immediately I remember Alan who right now doesn’t look like the Alan I knew. I haven’t seen him since I was in high school and he wore the same baggy clothes but would sing every Friday outside the Central Park Zoo the latest pop songs. “Alan? A
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The Man on 113th street

Nyah Blake Creative Writing Spring 2020                                                The Man on 113th Street There is a tiny old house on the corner of 113th street. I always have to walk past it to get to my house from school, as the bus stop is right across the street from it. I’m not one to be scared easily but the house itself accompanied by the little old man who lives there gives me the heebie jeebies. My friends and I always kinda felt bad for the man. He’s old and crippled living by himself. He doesn’t seem to have any family, as i never see anybody go in or out of the house besides him. He doesn’t even really leave the house himself. You always just see him sitting in his chair, looking out the dirty old window. I don’t know what he could be staring at all day, maybe the people going by, the bus going by, who knows. He’s just always staring out that window.  One day as my friend Sara and I got off of the bus from school, we saw the old man outside of his house
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Public writing project

  As a detective, I have solved many crime cases. I have heard and seen many crazy things, things that you can’t unsee, but one of the craziest crime story I know within the 10 years that I have been working in this field; I’m about to share with you. It was the summer of 2005. I was sitting down eating my breakfast and talking with my mother. As I got up to wash my plate my phone rang. Chief called me in and said it was an emergency. I was such panic I dropped my plate dressed up and kissed my mother goodbye. I rushed into the crime scene. I was told to go to this certain address. As I slowly pull up to the house I see the area was filled with cops and ambulance. I rushed over to the chief who was standing in front of the house. I approach the chief he told me to have a look in the basement then come back and speak with him. As I start walking down the stairs I can smell something like decaying bodies. The stairs were sticky and discolored. I walked into the basement seei
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