Four years ago, on a cold moonlit night, the cycle of injustice was breathing without difficulty and roaming the streets just as it is today. The noise on the street emerged from the corner in front of my barbershop where entrepreneurs operated their business. Approaching them, hand extended, I dapped them up before heading inside.
Back when Kevin was still counting his chin hairs, the best time of the year was summer. The sun was out, girls traded pants for shorts so hormones were rampant, and no school so all the neighborhood kids would meet up in the morning and hang until sunset.
In Kevin's neighborhood, their favorite part of the day was getting ice cream from the ice cream truck. That iconic ice cream truck song placed them in a trance as it beat on their eardrums. Immediately they would stop whatever they were doing to run home for money where they either begged their parents or searched every couch. Even if in an emotional tie-breaking basketball game with few points to go, they would still run to the ice cream truck.
For around 200 years there's been an old abandoned house way up north. Nowadays, rumors are spreading about the people that once lived there. Although rumors spread daily, none ever resemble the truth. Back in the mid-1700's, a man named Tom Crow owned the property, and he was a slave owner with over two dozen slaves. Additionally, he had a son named Jimmy, who was a young boy of age 11 with a sadistic sense of humor.