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The African Prince and the Mayan Princess

by Kenneth Davis 4 years ago in fiction
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Part 1

I continued to run through the darkness without taking the time to look back at my pursuer. I wanted more than anything to get the hell out of the abandoned building, immediately. Then suddenly, my ears had succumbed to a loud howl bellowing in the distance. As it got closer, it made me quiver as the howl erupted into my ears and sent tears rolling down my face.

I say to myself, "No God, please! I don't want to die here!"

"Come on, Carlina," I then say to myself, "Get it together, girl! You've come so far! Why surrender now?"

Wiping away tears, I continued running until I came to a long corridor leading to a window. I darted down the corridor as the moonlight peered in through the glass window as a sort of compass or guide navigating me towards my destination. I prepared to leap forcing myself into somewhat of a ball, hoping I had enough momentum to break through the closed window. Luckily, I was on the second floor, but still, I have concrete to look forward to. I'd say that's better than this being chasing me and possibly wanting me for a midnight snack. Why do I always pick the worst times to go looking for clues? I wish Kenneth was doing this instead of myself. I'm the one that should be taking care of the baby, not him. I crash through the window taking some tiny shards of glass across the face before landing with a thud onto a rusty dumpster and then finally rolling onto the ground.

"Carlina, come in, Carlina."

I finally come to as the voice of my husband chimes in over the radio. It was a relief to hear his voice again. "I'm around the corner."

"Wait, what??" I yelled in confusion getting up from the ground. No sooner had I replied a black Chevy Tahoe bolted towards me. I jumped into the passenger seat and, without hesitation, we rode off into the night. He leaned over to kiss me and I pulled away immediately. He tilts his head in confusion as I glared back at him.

He leaned back into his seat, then proceeded to ask.

"Did you get it?"

Ugh, typical man.

"Yes, I got it Kenneth. What do you think?"

"Umm, Kenneth... Where is the baby?" I asked him frustratingly looking into the back seat.

"Oh... I dropped him off at your mom's house the minute we lost comms."

My husband, a handsome and intelligent black man with his little afro hiding underneath his Houston Rockets cap, decided to leave our child at my mothers to pursue me. Don't get me wrong, I love that he did that, but he dropped our baby off at my mother's... sigh!!

My mother is quite a strange woman. You think you know Mexican mothers—not like this one and I assure you, this lady does not mind getting all up in our business telling me how to raise my baby. You should do this for the baby. You should do that. Marlen doesn't do that. Martha would have done it like this. She acts like I'm the only daughter she's ever had with a child. I mean Martha and Marlen have children too. Eight between the two of them to be exact. The official reason why I do not speak to her is due to a comment she made about my husband. "If you hadn't married a Black one you wouldn't be in this situation." That is why I steer clear of her. Any typical Black man in America would have gone off of the hinges, but my husband I swear, this man is a rare breed. He only gets angry when you threaten the lives of those he loves or any form of injustice. Any and everything else is underneath him. To him, you must have a serious psychological issue that obviously needs attention. Which to him is a problem that weak people must fix or never. Then smile, and walk away. Almost as if he feels sorry for them. Believe me, this man has made gangsters look incredibly stupid. Take my brother for instance. He tried to punk my husband, but he simply brushed him off as if he were a bug on his shoulder. My brother, expecting something return, ended up looking like a complete idiot in front of everyone. He was so embarrassed that now my brother looks up to him. I know, strange.

"Mi amor, we've had this discussion about taking the baby to my mother's. You could have rushed him over to Marlen's house who's much closer... but no!"

"I had to think fast so I took him to your mom's. Why are you yelling at me?"

I glared at him trying to translate the BS that was being filtered out of his mouth. I rolled my eyes and said, "Whatever, Kenneth! Can we just go get our son, please?"

"Sure, okay," he adds.

(To be continued...)


About the author

Kenneth Davis

I'm grateful to have this gift. Thanks for allowing me the opportunity to share these with you. Thank you for your continued support.

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