Apt. 367, 1058 Arygle Avenue, "The Big House"

It was a very hot summer night in the high rise, and the police sirens whale in the background bringing on the action. The air of the night was tough mentally, and physically, but the streets swelled with people. The air was so thick that the crowds struggled to get along in the grueling heat. Masses of people filled the courtyard appealing to different groups along the walk. As the mothers of many watched from above hanging out the windows reeling the humid air into there apartments. The Towers were not the place to be at tonight with the rancid air raveling through the apartments, and halls. From the Towers many could see the drug dealers running along the roofs in the low rises, and row houses moving there drugs up and down the streets to evade the Police. Many of the kids were sitting on some of the stoops singing songs, or playing tag, and chasing one another. Although in a few years they will be recruited to run drugs in one of the gangs. In the stairs of the tower at 1058, the drug dealers were yelling, "I got pink tops on the 4th., yellow tops on the 3rd., blue tops on the 5th., and the all night market place was open. This was the daily job for many who lived in the towers, or breaking into the cars of people who worked at Social Security, or visiting Lexington Market. Such retrieved items such as wallets, MP3 players, CD's, money, GPS systems, and car radios, packages, or anything that can be sold. Most of the items are sold right in the towers, even a GPS that never leaves the apartment. What does not get sold gets thrown away, and the cycle repeats itself again. Some excitement stirs down the street, as somebody got some bad drugs and a tussle begins between the buyer, and seller. 1058 is not a place to live for the week or mild attitude person, because there is to much going on 24 hours a day. One of the most interesting faucets of the day is when the young boys ride a dirt bike up the stairs through people, and keep it in there apartment with the stench of gasoline floating through the air. The Basketball court ignites with yells, and screams of a fight, and you see a person run to a car. A few minutes later, you hear the sounds that plague the high rises daily, "Pow, pow, pop, pop, pop", and you see a silhouette of a body on the ground. The crowd starts to gather in a circle to see who it is, and the yells and screams get louder within the crowd. You see a few people running toward the tower, which is a popular sign that it is someone who lives here. The verdict is in and cries for a mother can be heard, that has been seen many times. I recognize Sarah who lives in apartment 367, and she is running and crying loudly as she learns that her son Leroy has been shot. Police sirens filter the air, as well as the Medic 4, and a Fire Truck, Truck 4 from nearby McCullough Street. The Tiller-man, Rob Wilkins, and Driver, Oliver Silver from Truck 4 run over through the crowd to the man laying on the ground, and start CPR as the Medic gather equipment to transport the man to the hospital. The Police are getting information from people in the crowd as to what happened. After all of the excitement the basketball court empties, and the towers return to normal, and the drug dealers prosper to business as usual. This is life in the towers, the same stuff, over, and over. he news of Leroy's shooting spread like jelly around all of the towers so quickly. But within 2 hours after the shooting, Leroy was dead, and the news flowed like the air that you breathe. Everybody knows who killed him, but no one is going to say anything, that is the code in the towers. The cries could be heard through the towers from apartment 367, Sarah Lewis apartment, and screams of why, why. The air of the atmosphere out side is like Leroy just left for a minute and will be back, and nobody is really looking for him, and even forgot who he was or where he lived in just a matter of minutes.