The Clay Compendium - Gallery - Written Works

GALLERY

Broken Away
(Written October 1998)

Deep in the heart of the city lived a young, confused, scared little boy named Jamal. To him his neighborhood was not a neighborhood at all, but instead a “war zone”.

In the morning he woke, not to an alarm clock, but instead to a gunshot heard off in the distance. When he was a toddler such sounds horrified him, but over the years he has grown accustomed to them. The sounds of gunshots and screams are familiar and common in his neighborhood, but, even though he has grown up with these sounds, they still send shivers down his short spine. This is no place for anyone to live, let alone for a little boy. A boy his age should be around playgrounds and baseball fields, not crime scenes and strip clubs.

After a routine breakfast, which is rarely anything more than some bread and some milk, Jamal picks up his books and begins his long journey to school. No bus dares enter his neighborhood and as a consequence this forces Jamal to walk two miles to the nearest bus stop. The walk isn’t too bad itself, but the sights he encounters along the way are too much to handle for most stomachs. Blood, urine, vomit, garbage...all of which he must trench through on a daily basis. After walking through the depths of hell he finally reaches the bus stop...that is, if he makes it that far. On numerous occasions he has been robbed and a few times he has even been stabbed. And for what? The most he ever carries is five dollars, but usually it’s around two. Yet, even if he does make it, that doesn’t ensure his safety. Usually he must wait ten minutes for the bus to show up, and even on the bus he frequently experiences problems.

Finally he has arrived at the broken-down school building. You would think at a school he would be safe, but you’re wrong. Many kids in his class are thieves and bullies. Jamal, being a fairly skinny and weak kid, is usually a prime target for those types. Thus, not only in his neighborhood, but in school too he must live in fear.

The best part of his day comes after school. When school ends, he boards a bus, but instead of going to home, he goes to a nearby neighborhood. This neighborhood is just as bad as his, but there is an abandoned building where he is able to escape the horrors of the real world. Jamal climbs through a back window and makes his ascent to the third floor where he has his hideout. In the first room on this floor Jamal keeps some food, schoolbooks, and toys since he spends a good portion or his days there. This is the only place where he can relax and not worry about the evils of society. The best part, however, is that nobody knows about this place. He hasn’t even told the few friends that he has nor has he told his parents. Even if he did tell his parents, they wouldn’t care to listen. His parents do not care about him and neglect him constantly. His dad, whom is a drug dealer and addict, often beats Jamal for no reason at all and his mother just acts as if he doesn’t even exist. It is only in this abandoned building that he feels safe and important.

Frequently he goes up onto the roof and gazes out to the horizon. To the East he sees the coast and some middle class homes and wishes that maybe someday he can go there and enjoy life. Sometimes he’ll sit on the roof for hours staring at the kids playing ball in the park or at the hundreds of people enjoying themselves on the beach. It’s as if he is in a different world when he is on that roof.

He watches the sunset with a smile on his face, but sadly that is the signal that he must be on his way home. He goes down the flight of stairs reminiscing about the happiness he just encountered. He realizes, however, that once he climbs out the window he will return to the evil society in which he lives, and as he puts one foot out the window a cold tear trickles down his face. He then wipes his face with the palm of his hand and cautiously and fearfully makes his way home as he hears gunshots and screams in the distance.

When Jamal reaches his apartment building, he opens the door and walks to the fifth floor, panting all the way. As he turns down the corridor he notices that the door to his apartment is wide open. The door is never open and he wonders if, for once, his parents had noticed his absence. As he made his way through the door, however, he realized that this was not the case at all. In the corner of the small, dirty room his parents, tied together, were lying in a pool of their own blood. Upon observation, he found that his parents were brutally beaten and shot in the head at close range. He also realized that this happened not too long ago because the blood was still pouring down their bodies and the puddle was still spreading rapidly. He knelt down next to them and felt the blood. It was still warm, even though it came from cold hearts. Out of fear for his life, he got up and quickly dashed down the stairs and out into the streets.

Outside it grew colder and colder, but Jamal continued to walk and think. Then, suddenly, Jamal heard moans and turned his head in the direction they were coming from. A few feet down an alley he saw and old, ragged man with only one arm lying in his urine. He wondered if this was what was going to happen to him now that he had no family nor place to live. “No-o-o-o!” he screamed, and in doing so, he ran and ran all the way to his hideout. He crawled through the window and made his way to the roof. In the back of his mind, however, all he could see was his parents lying in their blood and the one-arm man lying in his urine. These were not the lives he wanted to live. He wanted to play in the sand of the beach or play ball in the park, not suffer.

With those thoughts, Jamal stepped onto the ledge, looked down, and jumped. As he flew through the air flaring his arms, he saw image after image of gruesome sights he had encountered over the years. However, as his small head smashed against the ground and splattered into a hundred pieces, those images, along with his life, vanished. No longer would he have to deal with the evils of the world...he was at rest.

Back to Written Works