The Harmy Night : A Short Story : Friday Night

I soon fell asleep and woke up to the sound of traffic and people yelling as if someone ate the last piece of pie on Thanksgiving. Being half sleep my eyes weren’t fully dilated so I couldn’t see but with one wipe and a closer look at the sign I see the words, “Lew Sterrett Justice Center”. We had arrived at the local jail of the Dallas County. As we walk to the entrance, I was so scared I grabbed papa hand hard as possible. We came to a huge black door with tinted windows so no one could see through. Papa pushed a big red button to the right of the door that mad a loud horn sound. Then the door slowly opened and revealed a room with a door, metal detector and two officers.

Enrique decides to make his first effort at crossing the border on his sixteenth birthday. Unfortunately, he is robbed and arrested by Mexican immigration officers, la migra. Enrique’s experience is not unique—many times police officers treat

In the summer of 1994 an Illinois woman’s buzzer rang at her apartment complex in Waukegan. She went downstairs to check after nobody went upstairs to her apartment. As soon as she reached the door downstairs, two men forced her into a dark colored sedan, kidnapped her, and raped her. Distraught after her attack, the victim wandered until she ultimately found a Seven Eleven close by and the police were called. When the police arrived, the victim said she was attacked by two Hispanic men that looked to be in their mid-twenties and a bit taller than her height of five feet and seven inches. The car that she was forced into was described as dark colored, older, having four doors and tinted windows. The victim’s boyfriend saw Angel Gonzalez’s car in the apartment complex parking lot and it matched the characteristics that the woman used to describe the assailant’s car. Police later stopped Gonzalez’s car and the victim acknowledged that the car was the one she described. She was then asked if Gonzalez was one of her attackers, and she was certain that he was, despite her being in the backseat of the police car while he was in front of it. Not only was he not close enough for her to get a clear view, but he also had facial hair and a birthmark, both characteristics that she did not use to describe her attackers. This led to Gonzalez being in police custody for interrogation where they did not allow him to sleep. When he was interrogated, he

She nearly slide out of her seat when the car came to a stop, she lifted her head and looked at the male. “Worn someone when you are going to break the car so damn sudden.” She shouted at him. “I could have been killed.” She rolled her eyes. She knew she really wasn’t going to die but she could get badly hurt. “Why did you stop anyways we aren’t…” She turned her head to look out the window, she cocked her head to the side. She arched her brow a little. “Now that’s something you don’t see every day.” She spoke aloud so every in the car could hear

“Agent Warren,” a heavy set judge said plainly, “ I need you to inform the jury about your experience involving the Sinaloa cartel and the murder of Robert Mendes.” I sat in silence. It had been almost two years since I’d heard that name. My name for while undercover was Paul White which the other members of the gang decided it didn’t it fit me well enough so they called me gringo.

Juan Guarintino was a Spanish immigrant who moved here into the United States. Juan worked for General Faucets and Plumbing and loved every minute of his job. There was only one problem that Juan was struggling with in America. Juan Guarintino was an illegal immigrant who had paid someone to smuggle him into the United States and make him a fake visa card. Now, a few days ago, he shot a man for the twenty dollars in his pocket that way he could manage his chronic cocaine problem, but the police have caught wind of what has happened. When the police found out where he lives, they ran into the house, only to find Guarintino’s two little daughters playing underneath his wife while she is cooking her family a meal. Now, the police have two

On one of those nights, when I drifted off into a nightmare, I found myself alone in a silent town that looked to be abandoned. The walls of the buildings, as well as the sidewalks had writing on them. Words such as "Mr. Piggyton" and "Play!" were drawn on with chalk. There were also random names written as well. The most troubling was the large drawing of Mr. Piggyton that was drawn on the walls of an abandoned candy store. Below that, "Let's all have some fun!" was written.

I moved into a quiet neighborhood in Orlando, Florida on January 24, 2008. I was a college student working part time at a local Target. I kept to myself and tried to make a little money and have good grades. I didn’t really know anyone, and no one really knew me unless I either worked or went to school with them. One day in early March, I was working on my yard and a little girl tossed her ball into my yard by accident. She ran over and grabbed it. As she ran off, I noticed how happy she was to just be playing with a ball, something that anyone else would take for granted. She looked happy and so excited.

My mom didn’t yell again, she just gave me a fierce look and stiffly began walking out the school to her car. I followed behind and sat in the car. I was still angry as I took a sip from my water bottle. Without saying one word to each other, my mom started the car and we made our way to Ashley’s school.

I remember sitting at our dining room table, looking past the window. I wasn’t much older than eleven. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, and I was bored out of my mind. I sighed, wishing there was something exciting to do. My mother told me that I should go outside and play, but I had already played at our playground what seemed like a million times already. The playground was only ten yards away from our small 800 square foot apartment, in the heart of Omaha, Nebraska. This was a convenience to some kids, but to me it was aggravating. I sat there in that wooden dining chair thinking how this summer had been one of the most uneventful summers I had ever had. I daydreamed about the summers of when I was living in Upstate New York. Ever since

As I walk down the street, tortilla stands crowd the corners of intersections of the streets as the aroma of tortillas suffocate my nostrils. Directly next to the steaming tortillas, is a meat rotisserie with a rotating chunk of Al Pator cooking on a low flame for hours prior to lunch. As Mexicans get ready to go to work, the aroma of pan dulce drowns out the aroma of tortillas attracting locals to grab a couple of breads and a cup of coffee before they are on their way. As the day progresses on, gunshots rang out and quickly I threw myself to the ground, protecting my neck and head. Five minutes have passed and the gunfire still has not ceased. Like a soldier in training, I crawled my way to an alley where a dumpster sat all alone. Fearing for my life, I pried open the top of the trash can and jumped quickly inside. Unaware of what was inside, I simply did not care, as my life was more valuable. Ten minutes have now passed and finally the gun battle has been terminated. As I open the lid of the trash can, I can hear voices, yelling, screaming, and crying. Curious as to what has just happened, I jump out of the trashcan and begin to walk back towards the street. Upon arrival, the amount of bodies and bloodshed was unbelievable. At least three bodies littered every corner of the intersection. All I could wonder and ask myself was, “For what? Why?” Seeking for protection, I headed south deep into the city where I hoped to see peace. Boy was I wrong. As I turned

When I was six years old on a foggy day in june 2010 I was in a dark and upset mood. Not only was I frustrated that I had a cast on my leg and couldn’t do anything fun, I was in a gloomy mood. I had spent the morning inside on my couch playing video games like ratchet and clank, and arguing with my parents over my attitude. Around noon my Dad Owen and my Mom Tracy called me and my younger brother Reese out to our front deck. We were curious because we didn’t know what they had wanted us for after all, I was playing video games and my brother who loves lego was playing with lego. When we were out the front door and

It was 8:30 in the afternoon. I was with my friends Jesus and Justin. There were many children and adults outside. We were by our selves. We were going to every house with lots of candy. Our bags were almost full from going to every house. When we saw the last house we almost screamed.The house was a nightmare. The house was ripped apart. On the lawn there were torn down trees. The grass was pure black.

A chilled breeze caused my hair to stand up on end, so I peek over my shoulder to see the window in my bedroom door open. The blue, polka-dotted whipped around violently but I couldn 't hear the sounds of a strong wind. Huh, could have sworn I 'd closed that. . . I spring to my feet and shiver as I step across the cold floor toward my room. On my tip-toes, I pull the screen down to shut it and take a minute to stare out the window. The moon cast a dim light over the small town, illuminating only the fronts of houses and the tip of trees, abandoning all else to darkness. A light fog danced in the distance and I smiled thinking how perfect it looked on Halloween 's night. I looked down from the top floor one last time then tugged the curtains shut.

It was three o’clock in the morning. Outside the window, the sky was still dark. There were barely any stars in the sky, and no cloud cluttered. The sky was painfully dark and motionless. Except for the faint light from the moon, everything seems lifeless. In a dark room, there was a girl sitting up on the bed, leaning on the wall beside her. She was looking out the window. Through the window, the girl can see the sky and the top of some buildings, however, nothing special or attractive. But, the girl has been staring at it for almost an hour now, silently and peacefully.