A Gangster's Cry

34. the maker of it all.

omniscient.

Yazreth Ysan Umar was the name of the man that built it all, only to destroy it all the same. A man of great looks, great wealth -and even after his many years behind bars- a great line of beautiful woman waiting for him. Ironically, Yazreth was a humble man. His grandmother had raised him with morals, morals that he'd eventually lost along the way before eventually picking them back up again, yet once they'd returned they'd been gone for awfully too long . Yazreth was a man of great mistakes, yet great honesty all the same. He was a lost cause that had been found again. Yazreth was the man who'd tainted his sons with his diabolical ways, in a song of greed and pain. Yazreth had paced down his generational curse of insanity, all because his own father never, ever let him cry his thuggery away.

A grown ass man, yet a tainted little boy.

Yazreth was free, but he could never roam freely under his nemeses offsprings reign.

Yazreth.
O' Yazreth.
Tread carefully,
before you slip into the deep, deep waters
of the river Nile
Flowing through the royal city of Cairo
Whilst Nefertiti is queen.

*

Eziekel was surprised to see his very own father standing in the doorway of the elegant one bedroom apartment he'd rented out. It was ironic how the two were eye level now, unlike the many years before where Eziekel regarded his Father as a giant. Yazreth analysed his son with a sense of pride, acknowledging how Eziekel's caramelised skin glowed just like his late mother's. No words were said as Eziekel widened the door and stepped aside, permitting Yazreth entry.

Eziekel's mind travelled to his elder brothers. Knowing them, they knew of their fathers return and were more than likely attempting to hide this information from him. He shook his head as he closed the door, watching as his father analysed his humble abode. Yazreth's eyes made their way to the family picture that sat on the TV stand. That was one of the few decent pictures Eziekel had of his family, the picture was taken at a time where the two deceased remained.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Eziekel asked, watching as Yazreth sat down on the single leather recliner seat diagonal to the TV.

Yazreth smiled, Eziekel had always been the most well mannered and respectful. He reminded Yazreth of the younger him, before the fuck ups and numerous mistakes.

"Water will be fine."

Eziekel was surprised to hear the baritone voice of his father. It brought nostalgia to his ears, and reminded him of the times before; when they all lived in harmony, as one.

Eziekel nodded, quickly getting a bottle of water from the fridge before throwing it at his father. Yazreth caught it within seconds, his catch graceful as if it was second nature. After talking a gulp out of the cold beverage, Yazreth politely thanked his son to which he only briefly nodded.

Eziekel sat on the three seated couch adjacent from his father, looking upon the older man with curious eyes. He scanned over the single teardrop tattoo inked on the side of Yazreth's face before looking away. That inking symbolised that he was a killer, a cold-blooded one at that.

"Nice interior." That was Yazreth's way of igniting a conversation.

"Thank you." Eziekel said with pride. Designing was one of many passions abs hidden talents. He was a minimalist, who found joy in the simplicity of life. As a child he'd make art of of things his peers couldn't even fathom and from there on, Yazreth knew his youngest son was truly special.

"I know you're wondering why I'm here..," Yazreth started, leaning forward in his seat, "- I have something for you." He finished off, and Eziekel's eyes finally travelled to the expensive briefcase he failed to notice on his father's person.

Unlocking the case, Yazreth pulled out a single envelope; he held it in his hand delicately, before he pushed it towards his son via the polished wood coffee before them.

Eziekel looked at his father with a single raised 'brow. He knew his father was a dodgy man, so he was still keeping an eye on him just in case. After analysing the envelope for quite some time now, Eziekel finally took the initiative to pick it up. It wasn't heavy, yet nor was it light. Eziekel felt the outline of something with hard edges, he noted that it was a book. He could feel his father's gaze on him as he opened the envelope carefully. Once he'd pulled the book out, he saw the words 'for my youngest son' inscribed across the front page in some kind of calligraphy, his mother loved calligraphy.

"Don't." Were the lone words of Yazreth as his son prepared to open the book, he wanted Eziekel todo that when he left.

Eziekel only nodded, before placing the book down and squinting as his father.

"Have you told them yet?" He asked, looking at the man that contributed to his creation.

The man shook his head, his ring covered fingers pulling on the hairs of his well groomed beard in a wise-like manner. Eziekel raised a single brow, deciding not to question his father further. Yazreth would reveal the news when the time was right, and Eziekel was sure of that.

The two sat in a comfortable silence, both gazing at nothing in particular with thoughts running wilder than the unspoken secret. So alike and different, all the same.

Guess they were right in saying the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

*
940 words....
Short, filler chapter.

Ahhh, writers block again bitches.
Such a dead and short chapter, am I not embarrassed? 🧏🏾‍♀️

Anyways chile,
Comment and vote.

Share opinions or wateva...
- taimoni.