RIP, Big Herb! by Da'shonique Latrice Yvette Mims
One time, I had to let my cousin go because he got shot. He should have never gone to the store. It was a choice that was made for me. He decided to go, and then he never came back. In my heart, it is like he's still there.
I remember his last day like it was yesterday. I was at home, and my cousin had called. I was in my room. It smells like air freshener. I see pictures of my family. Some are group pictures and some are individual pictures.
It is sometime before eight p.m. I can see people outside my window facing the street. I live in the projects. The weather is cold. The mood is sad and mad. I can feel my pillows under my head as I watch the people walk by. I can hear babies crying, and people yelling.
My cousin called and told my aunt that Armond had just gotten shot. He had gotten shot three times. Twice in the chest, and once in the heart. It was at eight o'clock at night. Armond was coming out of the store, and the man started to shoot.
He was my older cousin. He gave me anything I wanted. He liked anything that had to do with money. His voice was so loud. He was dark-skinned, with long eyebrows. His body was so fast when he walked. When he got mad, he would yell at you really loud. He was taller than me.
He went across the street, and this man had to take him to the hospital because he was losing too much blood. So they took him to the emergency room and they tried to take out the bullets, but they couldn't, because they were too deep. So they said that they had lost him.
Then my cousin, Carrie, called us a second time to tell us the bad news. The cell phone on the dresser stared to ring. So I picked up my auntie's phone.
"Hello," I said softly.
"Hello, who is this?" she asked.
"Da Da," I answered.
"Where's Pam?" she wondered.
"Downstairs," I answered lazily.
"Take the phone to her," my cousin demanded.
"Why? What happened?" I questioned.
"Armond got shot!" she cried.
My aunt started to bang her hands and feet. She was banging her hands because she was so mad. He was like her son. After my cousin called and said that he had got shot, my aunt started to bang her feet against the floor.
Then I started to cry, because that was my oldest cousin.
About the Author: Hello, my name is Da'shonique Latrice Yvette Mims. I'm 13 years old. I live in San Francisco. And my birthday is December 29, 1992. In my free time, I like to write stories. I like to talk to my friends. I love to play with my dog, and her name is Mamas. She is so bad. My dog is white and brown, and she has spots on her back. She has different-colored eyes. I love to listen to R&B music. My dream is to have my own beauty salon with my sisters Da'jiana, Danaya and Kelah.
STREETSIDE STORY OF THE MONTH 