Is Humble Texas Ghetto Novels & Stories

Together, we stepped onto the desolate streets, our footsteps swallowed by the decaying asphalt beneath us. Hell's Gaze, a name that sent shivers down the spines of average citizens, was an embodiment of destitution and despair. The houses stood like skeletal remains, their crumbling facades a reflection of the souls that inhabited them. Stray dogs scavenged for morsels among the debris that littered the streets, their eyes gleaming with a hunger that mirrored the desperation of the community.

no matter the miles away I am, I still come back to this gate. It's a gate with a shade at the very top part of it. The ground was tiled too. There was a long cement-chair beside me. It's as if the owner made it for comfort to come out occasionally, seat down here and just enjoy the evening air. Not that I've ever seen anybody since I started coming here. I was born and brought up in a Cedom. The biggest and popular whorehouse here in Texas. You know, a low budget brothel or you can call it a sporting house. Anything you decide to call it is your choice but to me, it was home.

Listen to Infinity by One Direction. Galveston, was the new fucked up city with flighty assholes, who portrayed all shades of tawdriness. The people in this city moved about with masks of smiles, and happiness on their faces, to fool one another, into believing they had perfect life at home. While it was always the contrary. Either they were battling with failed marriages, deadly diseases, depression, bankruptcy. Or with crazy rebellious sons like myself. I had live in Texas all of my fucking life. Grew up there, had my first everything, made friends and did school there.

After a brief pause, he asked, somewhat incredulously, "Mrs. Singers, are you certain this is the correct location?" A frown creased Andrea's brow as she questioned, "What makes you think otherwise?" Swallowing hard, the chauffeur nervously explained, "Mrs. Singers, the area this address points to—it's quite deprived. It's infamous for accounting for eighty percent of the city's robberies. It's essentially a ghetto, and the reputation of the people there is... not the best..." He trailed off, catching the stern look darkening Andrea's features. With a glare, she sharply inquired, "Do you consider yourself superior to them?"

Condemnation dripped from his voice. Anger laced mine. “I do have a real job. I work at Tasty Burger.” His laughter exploded into the car. I tried not to let it hurt my pride. After being stripped practically naked by him, I had very little left. He didn’t say anything until we entered my section of town. The rundown houses were actually considered the upper-class area. Five minutes later, I told him to pull into a small, decrepit trailer park. “You live here?” “Yes. It’s the fifth one on the right.”

The place I am telling him to take me is not anyone in our circle will go there in their right mind. The west side of Chicago in the area of terror. They also know this place as the Ghetto. More like the lower-class people build their houses in that part of the city. All kinds of criminals live here, they grow up here and gather here, drugs, robbery, theft, a murderer is the resides in the slum.

I spoke in a gruff whisper, “You just stay near me; nobody’s going to hurt you.” Gia's eyes darted from left to right, inspecting her surroundings. I could appreciate that it wasn't a five-star establishment. We were in a rough as fuck neighborhood, and we fit right in, dead center of it. It looked exactly how it was: a run-down, abandoned warehouse from the outside, while the inside was nothing more than a health and hygiene hazard.

This was a ghetto, specifically for cracks and weirdos. And what's crazy should be the fact that a few years back, I'd tried to make them sophisticated. Revamp the area and give it a little city buzz. But in less than a few months, the place was back to being a wreck. It was obvious they liked it better undeveloped. Maybe it synchs with their level of craziness. The point is, this was a very unhealthy area. How the heck did Hara wind up here? Now more than ever, I was eager to make her mine and get her the hell out of here. This was no place for a decent woman, especially a pregnant one.

Condemnation dripped from his voice. Anger laced mine. "I do have a real job. I work at Tasty Burger." His laughter exploded into the car. I tried not to let it hurt my pride. After being stripped practically naked by him, I had very little left. He didn't say anything until we entered my section of town. The rundown houses were actually considered the upper-class area. Five minutes later, I told him to pull into a small, decrepit trailer park. "You live here?" "Yes. It's the fifth one on the right."

The figure leaned on the wall and spit the blood from their mouth, “Ouch…that man really punch me hard. I think I broke my rib again. ” Westside is a beautiful place filled with buildings made out of red bricks and flourishing Mother Nature. This pleasing place was filled with peace but no one knows besides the locals that if one goes far away from Westside Park you will reach an unknown place. A place with a house made out of tins, cans and cardboards, crimes, lies, a place truly filled with the greatest filth, Territory 26.