{2021 MJFA's Best Urban winner}
Michael Jackson, street thug, makes contact with a young girl around his age. He was battling his own inner problems and just when he thought life just wasn't getting better, she humbled him.
She intrigued him, she w...
A/n: first and foremost pray for nigeria y'all . that place is special to me because it's a part of me and I got family there too . i hate to see it suffer like this .
#endSARS sign the petitions .
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🎶Sowassup? You alright? Pull up. Im outside🎶 -burna
T.H.U.G - the hate u give ____________
The day was warm. Breezy. Mischief and violence weren't rare in this era and this location. Children roamed the streets, causing trouble instead of being in school, or warm in their beds. Mischief was a word concerned mothers used to describe their "out of control" children—but really it was just life. That was the sad part.
"Aye Mike, Jeremiah!" They turned their heads towards a group of boys in an alleyway, huddling around a small black object. The ground was wet and the air was humid but they still never failed to take a day out the house and "enjoy the weather"
"Wassup?" Jeremiah tilted his head, walking slowly towards the 3 boys. "Look at this shit."
The boy lifted up the object, immediately causing Michael and Jeremiah to step back. "Nigga what the fuck?" Michael shoved him. "Put that shit away. You want us to get caught?"
"Ain't nobody gon' catch us." Another boy waved him off.
It was a gun. Not too big not too small. These boys were young—just in high school. They didn't care about school and looked up to the wrong people, wanting everything in their power to be like them.
King's (Jeremiah's) brows raised. "Where'd you get that shit?"
"Afta our house got robbed a few years back my mama been on edge since then. She bought a gun 'n it ain't a secret where she keeps it. She'n know I know where it is." The boy replied with a sneaky laugh, flaunting it and showcasing it like they were at show 'n tell.
"Lemme see." Michael reached out his hand, briefly licking his lips before having it placed onto the palm of his hand. The moment he touched it, something sparked. He felt almost obligated to handle it. Like it was a privilege. "Why you carryin' this around?" He said instead, disregarding his true inner fascination
The boy shrugged. "Why the fuck not? My brotha got one a these and he ain't afraid to use it. It's dangerous out here anyways. Y'all should get ya own too."
"My own?" Michael scoffed. "Nigga my Maw would slap the fuck outta me. She'a find out before I even bring this shit up in the house."
"We deserve this." He responded, glancing at them again. "Nothin's more important than jus' bein' a lil strapped up...y'know?"
Naija-omniscient
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