Book ideas and short stories

Dangerous Streets

A few people leave a meeting hall late one night. Laughing and talking amongst themselves quietly. Two of the men holding hands while the third short, very petite female walks alongside them.

They tossed strange looking gold coins into the air and caught them as the walked casually toward the street.

The two men each had coins that had the number 50 on it. With words around it but not in english. But the girl's coin didn't have a number on it. Just an motto in that same strange language.

The sign on the door behind them is an old strange wooden sign. Only two letters adorn it.

M.A. in an intricately carved scrollwork. Nothing else or any explanation of what it means. 

It's a well known location for LGBT alcoholics and drug abuse treatment and therapy sessions. But they usually used the front door. No one ever used this door. Or at least not that anyone knows of.

It's a dark alley in one of Chicago's more seedy locations. Well known for it's dangerous streets and alleys. And this was one of the worst areas.

The light above has been broken for many years and the only dim light comes from the street light at the end of the garbage strewn narrow alleyway.

The yellowish fluorescent light casts long eerie shadows on the walls and off the dented garbage bins. A skittering noise made them jump as a large black rat scurried from under a dumpster to a nearby sewer drain pipe.

"There goes your lunch, Theo." The slender female jokingly nudged one of the guys. She spoke with an odd latin accent. 

"Gods I remember those days." He said with a slight shiver. His deep rumbling voice was a strange mix of old russian and french, "No thank you Modeus. It's all yours."

"Nah," she said with a laugh, "I'm not that hungry." Then with a wink, "Yet. How about you Louis?" She said to Theo's partner.

"Ugh," he said with a thick English accent grimacing, "No thank you love. Those bloody things taste like ass and they smell worse then your feet!"

They all laughed at that, as approaching the empty street the trio stopped suddenly.  A large group of gangbangers had just entered the alley in front of them.

Upon seeing the trio of friends having just left the meeting center, the thugs laugh and begin taunting them.

"Aww look at the bunch of faggot druggies leaving their little kumbaya meeting." One of the gang members with a long scar down the side of his tan face jeered at them.

He had a ivory handled pistol hanging from the front of his pants, a red basketball jersey and black baseball cap.

They were a mix of latino, white, black and oriental thugs. Most of them in their early twenties or late teens. All of them covered with all kinds of tattoos.

Spreading out to encircle the group, the gangbangers began threatening them and calling them all kinds of derogatory names. 

Pushing them around, spitting on them and making fun of them as the tension in the air became more and more violent.

The three friends were doing their best to remain calm and not try to antagonize the group. Looking toward the street for help was of no use, it was a quiet night and not many cars on the road. Especially not in this area.

And they had been the last ones to leave the meeting hall, so no help there. 

"Hey man, we don't want any trouble, just leave us alone." The slender female said after getting shoved into her friend.