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Creation of Dark Souls

By Kysahn Marshall All Rights Reserved ©

Action / Thriller

Blurb

Cazario Marshall, though he has yet to acquire any literary degrees, can weave a tale like one of the greats. Growing up a troubled teen in a broken home he managed to survive the streets and run-ins with the law; and as one reads this new author's creation they are drawn into a world in which only a resident could be guide. And along the way there's guaranteed to be more thrills and chills than any amusement park Halloween roller coast ride yet devised.

Chapter One

At age of fifteen AMELIA HART was one of the most beautiful girls in west Baltimore. She was already tall as most boys her age standing at five feet nine inches--- taking after her father who stood at six feet four inches. But Amelia’s height wasn’t the only noticeable part of her anatomy that proved her an early bloomer like so many young teen girls these days. Her young budding breast were ripening to the point of perfection; and her behind with its twin globes that giggled naturally as she walked, was rounding as if by the hands of a skilled surgeon.

But besides her physical appearance, which was virtually irresistible, she was smart as a whip, and just as deadly. Amelia Hart was destined to grow into an incredible woman. None of which was lost on her father DAVID HART who was now tapping on her bedroom door to let her know that her date had arrived.

“Amelia, not that I’m complaining, but your little friend is down stairs waiting on you,” he said from the other side of the room door.

“His name is Quan, dad,” Amelia infirmed with a smile as she continued to examine herself in the body length mirror that had been a part of her room since her dress up and tea party days. She was wearing a pair of snug fitting blue jeans and all white Air Force Ones. She didn’t own a single dress or skirt despite her friend Janice’s constant nagging. “You’re a very pretty girl, Amelia. You need to let me help you pick out some dresses, girl,” she would say, holding up some lame dress or skirt if they were at a mall or some department store.

But the simple truth was that after the age of five dresses was of no use to her anymore. And from the age of six to the present date, despite her good looks, she was pretty much a tomboy: Two older brothers, Jerry and Antoine, and a father who had a 5th degree black belt in karate--- determined to teach her the art of all he knew--- was the perfect concoction to her ways.

Puckering her glossy, bronze painted lips she kissed at herself seductively in the mirror; then she giggled at her silly reflection. Grabbing her handbag she headed out the door.

“Ten thirty, now,” her father reminded her of her curfew as soon as she stepped out the room. “Dad, I know what time to be home,” she retorted, stepping pass him without glancing his way.


DAVID HART was a dark skinned, handsome, athletic looking single dad in his mid forties. Having been ran out on by his young Puerto Rican wife Julia two years after Amelia was born he had devoted his life to the upbringing of his kids. “The same way you stepped out that room, I can make your behind step right back in,” he threatened, only half joking.

Amelia stopped and looked back at her father with her eyes narrowed. “When I complete my third degree, I’m going to make you prove that to me,” she shot back.

There was a pause as they stood there and stared one another down; then they both smirked and started laughing.

“Girl you better have your butt back in here on time,” David smiled as he shook his head.

Amelia walked back to her father and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “See you later, dad,” she said before bouncing down the stairs.

“Bye sweetie.”

When Amelia got down stairs she saw QUAN standing in the front room looking around at the display of awards her father had won in karate tournaments from around the world. “All of those are just reminders that your legs will be broken by old daddio if I don’t have a good time tonight,” she teased with a lovely smile.

“You look---,” he stopped and made sure that her father wasn’t coming down the stairs,” good enough to eat with no seasoning.”

“Yeah right,” she giggled. “You bite me and I’ma bight your ass back even harder.” She took a quick peek over her shoulder then gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“Ladies first,” said Quan, opening the front door for her. Quan was sixteen, only a few months older than Amelia; and he was one of the few boys at school who was brave enough to approach her knowing about her brothers’ repetition as her ruthless protectors. He had light brown skin, dark brown eyes, and to Amelia he was one of the cutest and nicest boys she knew. She really liked Quan and his charming ways-even though she was almost taller than he was.

Opening the passenger door of his mother’s Honda Accord, Quan pushed it back shut once Amelia was safely seated inside. “Are you trying to get something out of me?” she inquired teasingly, batting her beautiful hazel eyes coquettishly once Quan was seated behind the wheel, “because you haven’t opened the door for me since our first few dates.”

“Baby I’ll open up the Gates’ of Heaven for you if I could see that beautiful smile,” he said smoothly as he started up the car.

“I bet you would,” she said, not able to resist giving him that beautiful smile as he drove off down Druid Hill Avenue.

Checking the time on his watch, JERRY HART was glad that their shift was almost over. It was almost dark and the next shift of dope boys would be arriving soon; but there was still time to get rid of one more bundle of heroin if the coppers didn’t interfere with progress. He was posted up next to an old busted up phone booth in front of a liquor store on North Avenue. He was waiting along with two other guys, Chill and Pete, who ran the midday shift along with him and Antoine. They were all waiting for Antoine to return with the last batch of dope for the day.

“Where’s your brother, man?’ asked a heroin addict who materialized from the alley between the liquor store and a Checkers restaurant.

“He’s coming, man!,” Jerry spat.

The heroin addict’s name was Arlene, and she was the one who served all the other fiends while the crew made sure that the coast was clear and that everything went smoothly in order.

“There he go,” the short, stocky, light skinned boy known as Pete pointed out.

“Special!” Chill announced, letting the fiends within earshot know that shop was opening again shortly. Chill was black as midnight, six feet tall and skinny with an afro that needed a serious washing. “Special in five minutes!” he yelled as he moved down the sidewalk spreading the good word.

“What took you so long?” Jerry asked his little brother.

“Does it matter, dog?” Antoine said irritably as he tossed the package of heroin to Arlene to get it out of his own possession.

Both of the brothers took after their father with dark skin, handsome features and tall athletic physiques. Jerry was the oldest at eighteen, a senior in high school with only a few credits to get before he graduated. But Antoine on the other hand had just turned seventeen, was still in the tenth grade and was watching helplessly as Amelia rapidly journeyed pass him. He didn’t go to school enough, and couldn’t stand the fact that his brother only had to put in a good hour or two since he already had most of his credits.

Walking up and down the avenue the boys directed the line of fiends to the alley where Arlene would serve them if things stayed in order.

“Peaches!” screamed one of the corner lookouts, letting them know that the police were in sight somewhere close by. But once the coast was clear again they quickly herded the long line of fiends into the alley.

“Damn I’m glad this shit is almost over,” said Antoine, hoping that there was no further interruption by the cops or any crazy ass knockers.

Once they finished their shift and had gotten all of the money together they decided to ride Down Town to East Baltimore Street and wind down for the night.

“I thought you probably would’ve been rollin’ over to Sherry’s Crib,” said Jerry as him and Antoine headed to “The Block’ in his old Dodge truck that his father had passed on to him at the beginning of his senior year. “You know that lil gold digger got you whipped.”

“Shut up and drive,” Antoine muttered before taking a deep drag from the blunt that they were sharing.”

“On the real though, bro, you have to start hitting class more often instead of the block,” Jerry explained. “It’s not like you going to miss out on anything---the game is everlasting. “Money’s goan always flow.”

“You think dad’s going to find out that I’ve been skipping school and kick me out, don’t you?”

“Worse. I’m thinking he might take you out in the back yard for a couple rounds,” Jerry corrected.

“Yeah right, he won’t have to kick me out then, ’cause I’ll roll out my damn self,” he said sheepishly.

After the truck was parked and a few quarters was dropped in the meter, the two brothers strolled onto “The Block” which was a nickname for Down Town East Baltimore Street where there was restaurants, game rooms, porn/sex toy stores, peep shows and strip club all on the one block. You could always find some action in the particular section of East Baltimore Street. Having already pigged out at Checkers after their shift had ended they were now ready to hit one of the strip joints.

“That’s my bitch there, boy,” Antoine proclaimed once they was seated in front of the stage with a shot of Hennessy in hand.

On stage was a sexy, butter scotch complexion woman, fully nude, pleasing the crown with her erotic and sensual expertise. She had small bite sized breasts with gold hoop rings through the dark, erect nipples. She turned around so that her back was to the crowd, and she started bouncing her glittery, plump, juicy ass causing hard-ons all around.

“If I have to spend every dime in my pocket---I’m getting me some of that pussy there tonight.”

“Nigga I rather see you give all your bread to Sherry’s ass before I watch you give it to one of these whores,” Jerry said to his brother.

“Say what you want, bro. But you can best to believe that lil thing there is feelin’ this dick tonight,” Antoine assured him as he watched her slide smoothly down into a full split, giving her aroused audience a beautiful shot of herself from the back that had even Jerry floating toward his little brother’s frame of mind. Antoine looked over at his big brother for a silent beat. “Yo, Jerry, I was thinking, man… What if I just quit school?”

“For one,” Jerry said with a touch of disappointment in his voice,” dad will kick your ass; then kick you out the fuckin’ house. And two--- that’s just stupid, man.”

“How’s that stupid? You and I both know that passing to the eleventh grade isn’t anywhere in my near future--- definitely not this year. So I was thinkin’ that maybe we could get a place of our own together…. We’re already making enough money to do it ourselves,” he said as he downed the last of his drink. “Dad’s going to be disappointed either way. Plus, Amelia’s about to pass me, man; and I just don’t want to deal with it any more, bro.”

“Damn, Toine,” Jerry sighed sympathetically. “I kind of see your point, but you can at least try for dad. You know how much seeing all of us graduate means to him.”

“I know. But there’s no use when I don’t have the patience, or the motivation anymore, dog. I just want to get paid. And I don’t see the significance of getting a high school diploma, anyway; ’cause I’m definitely not tryin’ to go to no college.”

“Look, man, I’m your big brother, and I wish I knew what it would take to persuade you otherwise; but since I don’t, if this is really, truly what you want, then there’s no way I’m leaving you to do it alone. Dad will just have to be satisfied with me and Amelia finishing school.”

“Well I have no doubt of your word, so how do we go about things from here”? Antoine asked. “You know we only have a month before schools out in June. And I’m hoping to have a please before dad finds out that I’ve failed yet again; and that I have no plans of returning for school next term.”

“I know that’s right.” Jerry groaned.

“And you know what else we could do, Jerry?” he said. “Once we get settled maybe we can start doing our own thing. Maybe we could even start our own crew somewhere.”

Jerry looked up on stage as a new dancer took place of the last. “Now you’re talkin’ my langue.”

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