The Curse of 1977 (Book 2)

With only his left hand scaling the rusted railing of The Martin Bridge that overlooked Lake Logan, along with a pair of glassy
eyes that looked as if they hadn't closed in days, Cloyse peered aimlessly down at the endless, shimmering water.Beside him on
the street were vehicles both big and small passing him by, but in his mind, they were non-existent.
His left hand steadily felt not the aged railing's coarseness, but rather a vibration. His entire body felt as if it could levitate right
there as he plodded along.Cloyse couldn't tell if he was nearing the end of the bridge's walkway or not, all he wanted and
needed was the warm tremor to guide him through.
The more violent the sensation, the more he knew that his long journey was not in vain.The man's eyes continued to stare down
at the water until his left hand began to go numb. Just as the young man was about to release, a force suddenly seized his hand.
It grabbed him with so much vigor that he had to stop right where he was and just stand.
Cloyse remained in the middle of the walkway and gaped out at the expansive lake. His eyes carried him far off into the distance
at a light's speed until he came to an abrupt end. Cloyse's entire body shook as if someone had grabbed him by the shoulders
and yanked him back and forth.Somehow, not only the left, but the right hand seemed to find its way to the railing. Before long,
Cloyse was hanging on for dear life to a piece of frail steel that could have at any moment given away.
Soon, after so much standing, the sights and sounds of his surroundings came upon him like an overpowering tidal wave.
A tear dropped out of his right eye as his hands slowly let go of the railing. Suddenly, all around him he became aware of his
environment, from cars, trucks and bicycles, to people walking past him on the sidewalk. All the man could do was slowly turn
around and become enveloped in everything that the world had to toss at him all at once.Cars and trucks were not only speeding
by at breakneck flows, but in his eyes they appeared two times bigger in size.
The people that passed by him had eyes of white and fangs that drooled blood.The man began to shake before stumbling back
and forth like he was intoxicated. His head began to spin, and before long he found his own legs becoming unstable. There really
wasn't too much space between the bridge's walkway and the road, so when Cloyse's watery brain became too unhinged to
maintain, the young man began drifting from off the sidewalk and into the street right before a white man was able to catch him
just in time.
"Hey, fella, look out!" The white man yelled as he grabbed Cloyse by the arm.
Sweating profusely, Cloyse looked at the man before slumping against the railing in an ailing fashion.
"Are you feeling alright, sir?" The man asked as he held Cloyse's arm in a consoling manner.

Trying to catch his breath, Cloyse stared at the man and cried, "She gone!"
"Who's gone?"
"She gone! My sister...she gone," he pointed out to the lake.
The white man spun around in a panic. "Your sister is in the lake?" He hysterically hollered. "Holy shit, stay here while I get a
cop!"
Cloyse watched in agony as the man ran off in the other direction before he himself turned and began back the opposite end,
accidentally bumping into other people along the way.
The moment Cloyse departed the walkway he immediately spotted a park bench just a few yards up ahead. The man dragged
his lethargic body as hard as he could before finally making it to the bench where he sat and tried to take in as much oxygen as
he could into his heaving lungs.
With a swimming head that would not cease throbbing, Cloyse balled up his fists and pondered on the big sister that he had
hoped he would see again. He honestly did not expect a happy reunion, but he certainly did not see her demise as being what it
ended up as. He rubbed all over his newly cut hair forgetting that he had chopped off his dreads. All he could hear inside his
head was Sunta's final words to him before he covered the old man in dirt. How he would not grant him his blessing before his
parting. It made Cloyse feel hollow from within. He wanted to become enraged, but the fury was locked away far inside.
Cloyse then scanned his current surroundings to discover that he was in a meeting place of sorts. People were throwing
Frisbees, playing catch with their dogs and jogging about. He was finding that the various scenes all about him were making him
sick to his stomach.
Ever so carefully Cloyse stood up and stared a hard, hateful glower at each and every person that his eyes could capture. One
by one, person after person passed him until a certain homeless black man came strolling along with a shopping cart full of
empty soda cans.
"You dere," Cloyse said aloud to the man.
At once, the rough looking, bearded man stopped and pointed at himself, looking as if he were in trouble. "You want me?" He
muttered.
"Yes...I want you." Cloyse replied as he stepped to the man.

"What you want with me, nigga?"
Taken aback for a moment, Cloyse looked the man up and down before asking, "Do you see me?"
The homeless man stared at Cloyse as if the young man were completely out of his mind.
"You're foreign, aren't' you?" He grinned.
"Do you see me?" Cloyse continued on in a more agitated and determined tenor.
Backing up some, the homeless man stuttered, "Yeah, man, I see you. What do you want?"
"I am dead to you now."
"You look alive to me."
Cloyse's tone grew more sinister with every moment he stood before the man. "They have fed, haven't they?"
"Man, get outta here!" The man yelled before attempting to sidestep Cloyse.
But Cloyse managed to grab the man's arm. "This whole city will drown in its own blood before it is all said and done! This city
will die!" He urgently spat.
"Nigga, you better let me go before I kick your black ass!" The man snatched his arm away before taking his cart and shuffling
on.
Cloyse didn't bother to watch the man leave, instead, his eyes caught sight of the man that aided him at the bridge, along with a
police officer that both came running at him.
The young man wasted no time in taking off in the opposite direction before they could catch up to him.
The faster and harder he ran, the angrier he became, and the sorrier he began to feel for the city of Cypress.