Wednesday, May 02, 2012

San Pedro High Students Tell Their Stories Through Writing

Dear Readers:

   I will be running a few pieces here and there that San Pedro High students wrote in an English class when I gave a Seven Golden Secrets to Writing (c) workshop.  Many thanks to English Teacher Al Alvarez- Estrada who allowed me to work with his students.
   Some of these articles detail their sufferings, others wrote humorous or witty works.
   I would say this: I found a lot of potential writers in this class, -- Diana

Walk Down the Street With My Brother

By Jackie Gayton

   Walk down the street with my brother at my side. We talk on our way about everything going on. It's been awhile since we've talked like this. Brother is almost never around. He's either with the homies or sleeping at home from being out too late at night.
   We stop talking to the sound of tires screeching. Suddenly, I'm on the floor with Brother on top of me holding me down. People are screaming. I peep from under Brother and watch as people are running.
   "It's Okay. Stay down. It's okay," I hear Brother repeat to me over and over again.
   I hear sirens in the distance coming closer and closer. I feel Brother's weight on me and I can no longer hear shots being fired. I try to tell him that he can get up now, but he can't hear me anymore.
   My eyes water and I tell myself that everything's going to be fine, that's there's nothing to worry about. I feel Brother being lifted up from on top of me. I'm being lifted up and I feel someone holding me, but I'm not seeing or hearing anything.
   There's only one thing in sight: Brother. What will mother think and father? They always loved Brother more than me.  They only could see the good in him, never the bad.
    I can see why they love Brother. Brother was a good, loveable person. And now he's gone, his smile is gone, the way his eyes gleamed when he laughed. Gone. The only thing left is his memory.
   I can't go back home. Brother was my protector. He saved me from so much. He was my family. I break from the hold on me -- and run.
   I run and when I get tired, I keep running. It's getting darker and I stop on the street   I've never been on.
   "Hey where are you?" I hear a voice from the distance. I look for the owner but it's too dark to see, but I can vaguely see a silhouette of a young man. He looks familiar. I try to find his face, but can't.  He comes closer and I can now see who it is.