The Story of Samuel

The boy carried his most prize possessions, distributed between one over stuffed suit-case and one back pack both were unable to be shut. A long-sleeve shirt protruded from the backpack and the square end of a fire truck pushed out of the lid of the suitcase. The boy was eleven years old and small for his age. At his school, which he planned never to return to, he was excluded from the games most the other boys played. For all the misery that was his school, it seemed manageable in comparison to what he had to deal with at home.

The day he decided to run away from home he had actually been having a good day at school. Behind the field where the rest of children would play football or kickball was a bunch of trees. This was Samuel’s favorite place on the whole play ground. Back in this little nest of trees Samuel felt secure. He would play imaginary games, imagining to himself that he was a soldier or a spy. Samuel liked to crawl on the ground, sneak behind a tree where he could not be seen and spy on the other kids playing.

He would make up stories for himself as he played these games. There’s Amy Burner playing four-square with her two girl-friends and Jimmy Stone. Jimmy Stone is cheating and playing rough doing atomic bounces. He crawled to another tree to get a better view of the four-square court. From this position he couldn’t see Amy anymore but he got a better view of Jimmy’s face, which was laughing like a villain as Jessica, one of Amy’s friends, had to go chasing for the ball that Jimmy had launched.

If I could just help them in some way, if I could just stop Jimmy, Samuel thought to himself. What I really need is a sort of gun, not a hurtful gun, with bullets, that could kill people, but more like a ray gun, a ray gun that would make people be nice. With this thought, Samuel crawled on his belly to another tree, which offered the best view of the four square game. Now, I just need to get close enough so that I make sure I only it Jimmy. Because, if I hit anyone else I will probably make them mean. If a ray gun is set to make a mean person like Jimmy nice, then it probably makes a nice person like Amy mean.

He imagined the long ray gun, perched on his shoulder like some bazooka. He imagined looking down its long sights. He focuses on Jimmy but it was difficult, with all the players moving. Samuel would think he had clear shot, but then Amy or one of her friends would appear in his line of sight and he would have to aim again. The game was going again and Samuel could tell that Jimmy was preparing himself to launch the ball again. Jimmy had backed up to the far corner of his square, so that when the ball entered it he would have enough time and space to really launch it. Jimmy loved seeing someone all frustrated trying to chase the ball across the whole parking lot and what was even better was after that person got back, he would do it again and the person would have to go get the ball again.

I must stop him, Samuel thought to himself. He’s going to do it again, they are trying to keep it away from him but sooner or later it will get back. If I could just aim this weapon, why do ray guns have to be so big? I don’t have much more time. I got one chance to make this work. Samuel was straining to aim his ray gun perfectly. As the ball bounced into Jimmy’s square, Samuel knew he had to take his shot. He aimed as best as he could and right as Jimmy’s hands reached for the red ball Samuel took his shot
Samuel could not believe when his ray gun hit its target. Jimmy’s hand immediately fell to his sides and his whole body seemed to stretch tight, like some piece of string being pulled. The ball bounced out of his square and the three girls starting counting and yelling “Go get it Jimmy, or you are going to be kicked out of the game!”

Samuel sat in disbelief. The ray gun which he had been holding had disappeared. His hand hanged in pantomime, which made Samuel feel even sillier. What was making him even more uncomfortable was the fact that Jimmy now stood outside the four-square game, like he was in a daze, looking back towards the little batch of woods which Samuel was using to conceal himself. Samuel felt so nervous, laying there on the ground, behind a tree. What kind of trouble could he get in for using the ray gun? Samuel’s thoughts were interrupted by the blowing whistle of Mrs. Cooper, which indicated recess was over.

All the kids went running into the school building, except for Jimmy, who was still standing staring towards Samuel's hiding spot. The ruddy game ball and lodged itself in a storm drain. It would be left there over the weekend. Samuel would never see it again. Samuel felt so embarrassed as got up from his hiding place. Jimmy was staring right at him and Samuel figured he had to know what he had done.

“Hi Jimmy, did you hear Mrs. Cooper ring the bell?”

Jimmy didn’t respond, but he did smile and turn around running towards the school. Samuel watched him room and for some reason Jimmy seemed to be running differently, happily you could say. Usually, Jimmy ran tense, predatorily, looking this way and that at. Now he just ran happily towards the school. Samuel walked.

Samuel slowly walked into the school. He was the last kid to make it make. Mrs. Cooper said, “Samuel what’s taking you so long buddy?” Samuel smiled. When he entered the room everyone already seated. Jimmy sat calmly, smiling. This was totally inappropriate for Jimmy. Jimmy was loud. Jimmy was talked. He liked to crack jokes and bug people. Samuel took his seat, which faced a window.

The class was reading “To Kill a Mockingbird”. Samuel liked it. Samuel didn’t know his father. Samuel though having a dad like Atticus Fitch would have been cool. Sometimes, Samuel didn’t do so good at school. He liked to read and was interested in most of the things they learned in school. The problem was he liked to go at his own pace. He also didn’t like to do his homework. It was hard to do his homework at home.

Samuel did like being at school though. It was where he could read or play and be safe. Samuel didn’t always feel safe at home. His mom had to work over night and they lived in an apartment. He felt bad his mom had to work all night, but he also felt bad being alone there all the time. As he sat there reading his book, the loneliness began to seep into his mind. He tried to ignore it, tried to stay immersed in the book, but still it was there. The thought that he would be going home soon and his mother would be there.

She would say hello and ask him how his day was, but she would be getting ready for work. He could answer or not, it wouldn’t change what happened next. She would ask him what he wanted for dinner, while standing there impatiently. Samuel would say he didn’t know. “Well I gotta go Sammy”, she would say. He would say he knew, but he still didn’t know what he wanted. Then she would leave to go to work. She worked for a cleaning service. Today things were different.

“I shot someone with my ray gun today,” said Samuel.His mother ignored him.

“Mom, did you hear what I said. I shot someone with a ray gun today.”

“I heard Samuel. You shouldn’t be playing violent, you know I don’t like that.”

“No, it was a ray gun that changed a mood. I was making Jimmy nice.”

“A ray gun that makes people nice?”

“Yes and it worked, Jimmy was actually being nice.”

“Samuel, you know I don’t like you making up stories and lies.”

“I’m not lying, he was in a better mood and.”

She cut him off, with a large sigh.“I don’t have time for this Sammy, what do you want for dinner huh?”

He stared at her for what seemed like forever. He didn’t know what to say. He just wanted to talk to with her so badly. Have her attention, like when she was trying to be nice or when they used to do stuff. Now, he felt like she didn’t even like him. It is a bad feeling when you feel like your mom doesn’t like you.

Besides just feeling sad though, Samuel felt angry. It was a cold, intelligent anger. An anger born out of the simple fact Jimmy had stopped and Jimmy had acted so differently. Where does she get off telling me it didn’t happen. It had felt so real when Samuel had been holding the ray gun. He had wanted its effects with the entire core of his being. For the first time Samuel really wanted to leave. He didn’t know how, or why, or where to go. They had no family. His mom had one brother that she didn’t talk to. He dad had died and her mom had turned into a drunk. The two were taking by child services.

She stood in front of him now wanting an answer. “Samuel, what do you want for dinner? I don’t have time for this I still got to get ready for work.”

“I’ll figure it out.” He said coldly.

She said nothing and left the room. He was still sitting in the same spot as she was about to leave. She said nothing. She did not hug, nor kiss him. She didn’t pat him on the head or back, telling him to lock up and call her if there was any trouble. She just left in a rush of perfume and cigarette smoke.

When the door closed, Samuel stood up and started putting things in suitcase and backpack. Samuel was a small eleven years old boy and so the two overstuffed bags were a lot for him to handle, but he was determined. He left like his mother had, with no note of good-bye or explanation. As he dragged his luggage through the apartment complex, he passed a few people but no one said anything, even though it was obvious what he was doing. They all were in a daze of their tribulations.

And now he dragged these same items through his city with no destination, or purpose, that he was aware of. He was not frightened or troubled. He actually felt good, happy. If he had to be by himself, it was better to be out in the world then stuck in his mom crummy apartment. No one seemed to mind him either. Cops and other people seemed to see him and give him very little consideration. He had been afraid at first, but then everyone just kept driving by without any notice.

He had no money, no connections. In reality, he was in a bad spot. His city was not a nice place. It was especially not a nice place for weak people and children small like Samuel were very weak. Children were kidnapped and horrible things were done to them. His mother had told him all about these men before she had started the night shifts. She explained he could never open the door to anyone because they might try to hurt him. It had frightened him very much.

For some reason now, he wasn’t concerned about this. He just walked with overstuffed luggage through the city. Across the city, a group of young men were hustling on the block. Large bricks of cocaine were in the apartment, and the young men would go inside and pick up hundreds of little baggies which they would distribute through-out the day on the street. Loudly, they talked and laughed.

“You’re fucking afraid man, like a pussy”, one said to other.

“I’m not fucking afraid and I’m not fucking stupid either. You want me to go there, at that time, by myself, for that much. You’re fucking crazy man. And do they know about this shit.” The other man replied.

“Of course, they know about this shit man. They know about everything. Their the ones who told me to come out here and tell you this shit. And give you this.” The man passed a backpack full of money to the other one.

“I think you are a pussy. And let me tell you, you lose this fucking money. They are going to lose it you. You understand me? Lose it quick, ya understand?”

The man did understand. “You understand this, I’ll do this shit, but you keep this pussy shit up and…”

The other interrupted, “And nothing, motherfucker, watch what you say next. Take the bag and get that shit, that’s all you need to now.” With that, the man turned to go inside. He was tall, lanky, and had thick dreads which ran down his back. The man he passed the bag full of money to was a Puerto Rican youth named Cruz.

Cruz was eighteen years old. He wore the backpack and headed in the direction of his deal. He was fuming inside at how he had been treated by Darnell. This wasn’t his first deal. He knew them and he did work for them. He wasn’t going to let them fuck with him anymore. Everybody can get robbed. He would do this deal and start making his own moves, he thought.

Cruz walked confidently through the city. He knew the streets well. There was the grocery and the laundry. Here was the church his Mother attended. It was an old church. The spot had been used as church since the founding of the city. It now was a large concrete and marble edifice. It had a large serious of steps, which led a large set of doors and an impressive façade.

More importantly though was what sat at this foot of this cathedral, at the base of those giant steps. Cruz thought it was a bowling ball when he first saw it. It was a glossy, obsidian globe. Cruz looked around for an owner. He had walked past the church hundreds of time and he had never seen this globe sitting there. As he approached it he realized it wasn’t a bowling ball, there were no holes and it was to shiny and the surfaced seemed to be moving, like there was water in it or something.

Cruz looked around again and there was no one else around. He was all alone. The globe looked expensive and it was just sitting there. Cruz wanted it. He wanted it bad. Cruz wanted a lot of things, like money, cars, and girls, but he wanted this obsidian globe more than any of those things. He knew he had to have it. He would have it. He wasn’t a pussy and he had no problem taking stuff he wanted.

He approached hungrily, anticipating having it. He was much like Jimmy earlier, eager to atomic bounce that ball. Cruz’s hands grabbed the globe, as he bent over. It was cool and damp to his touch. His hands seemed to sink into the ball and felt like they were stuck, as if there was a layer of glue on the ball. And that is when things got weird.
Cruz felt hungry, sleepy, and needy. He had forgotten about the thing he picked up. The thing had disappeared as it had fused with Cruz. His hand still hanged in front of him as if he had been stopped mid clap by some invisible force. A hungry guy with thousands of dollars in a back-pack can be a dangerous thing. Cruz had forgotten about what was on his back and what was in it.

There was so much trash on the ground. Everywhere he saw empty beer cans, cigarette butts, old newspapers, discarded trinkets and broken glass. So much trash and he was so hungry. Inside a voice struggled. I am so hungry, not for food, but I wanna eat. I wanna eat. I’m so fucking hungry. If I told put something in my mouth and starting chewing I am going to be sick. I want to eat this street. I want to eat this street?
He couldn’t believe the thoughts he was having. He felt like he was on some drug, but he had taken no drugs. He also didn’t know any drug that could make you feel like this. He didn’t think there was drug that could make you feel this sort of hunger, hunger not for food but just a hunger to tear and chew. He felt the hunger that comes when one really does need something to eat. The weakness and queasiness made Cruz feel like he was going to faint. I got to sit down, before I pass out. He stumbled on to the porch, of what looked like an abandoned house.

The front doors and windows were boarded up and nailed shut, like a lot of other houses on this street. There were dirty, rusty nails, on the steps, along with little broken pieces of dry wall. The little cooper colored nails became the object of Cruz’s attention. I want to eat one of those little things. I want to pick it up, feel the roughness in my hands, put it in my mouth an feel the rust shaving slide against my teeth. Just pick it up. Put it in your mouth.

Some part of him that remained under Cruz’s control knew this was insane, but still his fingers picked up a nail. Cruz played with the nail in his hand. Squeezing it firmly, he saw the rusty streak the nail left on his palm. It was an old thing. It had been pried from the door, whenever it had been removed. I want to eat it. I need to eat it. I feel so weak, and it would make me feel better. Metal is strong, I need to be like metal.

Nobody saw the young man, sitting on the stoop, as he popped a rusty, old, nail into his mouth and began to chew. Chewing, is not really the best description for what he did. Cruz’s teeth attempted to chew. The old nail, bent this way and that chipping teeth, and ultimately breaking into a few jagged, deadly pieces. These pieces were chewed into even smaller bits and finally swallowed. There was no sense of pleasure in eating this nail, but there was a satisfaction. This satisfaction is the only thing that moved Cruz now. He wasn’t even surprised when his hand reached for a dirty little piece of dry wall and then that too was thrown in his mouth and chewed. The chemically taste of the dry wall was harder to swallow than the little razor blade fragments of the nail.

Cruz grabbed a couple more nails, and stood up from the stoop. He felt good, strong. He remembered what he was supposed to be doing and he felt ready to do it. The disgusting refuse which would soon find their way into Cruz’s belly, were clenched in Cruz’s left hand. Internally, Cruz was a mess. The nails, and other materials had sliced away at Cruz’s intestinal track. He would be dead very soon.

The police would find him bleeding, and choking on a mouth fool of trash. But right now, with just a couple nails down and a few pieces of dry-wall, between his teeth, Cruz felt good. He took a couple of step and noticed a shiny, can of soda. Cruz picked it up, crushed it with his hand and began to chew on the small pieces of aluminum.

He walked passed quite a few people, for the few last blocks that Cruz would ever walk. No one seemed to notice or acknowledge the blood coming from Cruz’s mouth. Nor was anyone bothered when they saw the young man with the back pack, bend over pick up a dirty, stained, piece of newspaper and stat chomping on it. He truly only made it six blocks, but in those six blocks there was a lot of trash and Cruz wanted to put it all in his mouth. In his mind, his only purpose was to get the trash into his mouth. His mouth felt like a magnet and the trash was what it was attracted to.

The coroner would spend days pulling items from Cruz’s stomach. At one point the investigation suspected homicide because nobody could believe that somebody could actually eat all that stuff. Detectives talked to vagrants, and others in the neighborhood around where Cruz died. Most of them hadn’t seen him, but those that had just remembered Cruz walking down the street. Once Cruz had collapsed, it had been some time before anyone had actually stopped, and then it even took a couple people more to stop before someone actually called the police. The first emergency workers had made the mistake of actually trying to pry some of the trash from Cruz’s mouth. One of them had sliced his fingers on a soda can, when his fingers had been trapped in the trash in Cruz’s mouth.

This was not the only interesting thing found next to the trash stuffed Cruz. Detectives also took a back-pack filled with thousands of dollars of the deceased back, and located directly next to him was a black, glossy globe. The detectives picked it up with gloved hands, and placed it in the backseat of the car. It would be held in the investigation.
Samuel saw the ambulance race past him en route to the hospital. Two police cars followed close behind, and they made Samuel nervous. They passed though, and no one stopped to check on the boy with the overstuffed luggage and backpack. Moments, after they passed the street seemed incredibly quite. The sun was beginning to set and the streets and sidewalk seemed to grow colder by the minute. Samuel began to feel his first real sense of fear. Where was he going to go?

He stopped for a moment to rest and think, at the steps of the large Cathedral, where mysterious black globe are was discovered. He noticed that to the side of the giant series of doors, there seemed to be a little spot, which was not visible from the street. He decided to sleep in that little spot for the night. He leaned against his suitcase, and used his suitcase as a pillow. Even though, the street couldn’t see him, he could still watch people walking on the street.

Samuel felt tired and a little scared, but he was happy that he had left. His mother would return home that morning, startled that she did not find Samuel there, she thought to herself that maybe Samuel had some school project, which he had to go to school early for. She would go to bed, because she was so tired. She told herself she would see Samuel, when she woke up and he got home from school.