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| Watching Crows eat of Eyes of Dead Bodies | Started by: CamachoDesperado on Aug 11, '08 05:20 |
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From where I come from, seeing a dead body along the street isn't new. Seeing it go off into the funeral home in less than a week is. From a despotic and corrupt nation in southern Cuba, my life was never happy, not if you include the time I almost strangled my step brother, whom stole everything I ever had as a kid. My life was rough. Sure. It taught me how to cope up with life. I was on the edge, watching dead bodies float down the river of life, whose current can only take the strongest of all. "I am Dante Camacho." I just got so sick of all the shit back home, so i cam running here, to the United States of America. Where Life felt so sweet. I was wrong. My first voyage into the new world started on an illegal boat trip. My buddy Luis told me I can get in easily, without notice, but how, oh how could anyone miss me. A 6 foot 5 inch tall man, with a build only god could compete with. My trust in Luis has gone the minute I got off. "Passport and Papers please." I got off the boat that smelled as though my father had trashed the place with crap, alcohol and piss. My father was never the best dad, but he taught me a lot. Mostly, how to take a hit and never show any pain, or how to inflict pain without even thinking twice of the person receiving the blow. The poor caddy was doing his job, asking me for papers, for a legal entry into the US. I knew there was only one way through this. Damn you Luis. You owe this kid his life. "22 year old James Walter killed, strangled to death with his own tie." My first murder but not my first voyage into pain. I felt cold and scared, my muscles cramped, and my head throbbed with every beat my heart took, which was 4 or 5 times every second. I ran into a bar. I have never been into one, not until I killed the poor kid, not one in america at least. I knew it was the only way to get through. My chapter as a mafioso is far from starting. As of this moment here, I am a little boy, watching the crows, eating out eyes, of the dead bodies I kill. to be continued. |
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One coming up in a few hours. Dante Camacho takes a chair, and starts to reminisce on his past, as though having a flashback ... |
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| Reply by: CamachoDesperado at Aug 13, '08 17:55 | |
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