Legend of Greenboy

By D Israil

How did Township, USA go from a quiet Midwestern factory town to a cesspool of drugs and violence? The alleged personal journal of sixteen-year-old Sean “Greenboy” Wallace could hold the answer. Is this very detailed narrative a product of a teenager’s imagination, or is the legendary Greenboy really responsible for Township’s rapid decline? Read the journal and decide for yourself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Prestige Communication Group
• Release date: Mar 14, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301542994

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Legend of Greenboy

By D.Israil

Published by: Prestige Communication Group, LLC

Copyright © 2013 D.Israil

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, Licenses Notes

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Table of Content

Preface

March 15

March 17

March 18

March 19

March 22

March 23

April 3

April 4

April 13

April 14

April 16

April 17

April 18

April 20

April 23

April 26

April 26 2nd entry

April 27

July 3

July 4

July 5

July 16

July 17

July 18

Preface

Township, USA was an industrial town in the Mid-West once filled with people who had no-things, knew no-things, and wallowed in the contentment of being free from the power of things. They lived and breathed struggle. Made just enough to get by without ever realizing it. Experienced life through work. Worshipped through the almighty timecard. Accepted difficulty as the ultimate end. Labor soothed their souls and guided their consciences. Achieved the penultimate state of calm and peace-heaven on earth-sustained by pure necessity. Learned that it didn't take much to get whatever they needed. Got everything they wanted because they only wanted what they knew they could have. Lived in their own world-a dreamless world.

Township existed in a reality of its own, a reality so unique it didn't even appear on the map. It had a peculiar social, moral, and economic fabric that set it apart from the rest of the world, a fabric that seemed unalterable. That is until an unexplainable string of events over a six month period tore that fabric apart like paper. It was overwhelmed by a tidal wave of corruption, immorality, and death that destroyed the walls that had alienated it from the rest of the country for centuries.

So what the hell happened to Township? How did things go so wrong so fast? These questions have baffled scores of sociologists, historians, and cultural anthropologists. Yet none of them seem to acknowledge that the very public narrative of what happened to Township is actually the very personal testimony of one Sean Greenboy Wallace. Many see Greenboy as nothing more than a myth, a scapegoat. And with good reason: Although it has been rumored that Sean Wallace came to Township to stay with an uncle, and the 2000 Census counts a Thomas Wallace among Township's residents, there is no official documentation to support the assertion that Thomas Wallace had a nephew named Sean who came to live with him. Ironically, in April 2003, it was discovered that Thomas Wallace had been missing since the summer of 2000. Then, in June 2003, Greenboy rumors motivated investigators to search and seize property from the Wallace home, which was followed by the announcement that there was no evidence of foul play or the infamous Greenboy.

Still, in interview after interview, residents conjure Greenboy again and again. Each time, the so-called experts write him off as urban legend. Fortunately, a sixty-year-old janitor may have stumbled upon evidence of what really happened in Township. He conveniently tripped over a chair, fell, and dropped a box of paperwork headed for the shredder. Amongst that paperwork were the alleged personal journals of Sean Wallace.

The following is a compilation of those personal journals, in which Sean Wallace recounts the crucial role he played in corrupting and destroying the moral, social, and economic stability of the Westside of Township. It must be noted that this graphic and detailed account had been scheduled for destruction along with several other documents retrieved from the now infamous James Estate mansion, where Greenboy allegedly took up residence. Although there is no way to identify or authenticate the source of this journal, there are hundreds of public documents that lend credibility to many of the events alleged within it.

I want to make it clear that I am not publishing these journals in order to advance a conspiracy theory, as I'm sure many of my peers will assert. I simply present them as an opportunity to explore and consider seriously the possibility of the Greenboy Theory—which has been constantly suggested by a large percentage of both Eastside and Westside residents of Township. It is left to you as an experienced reader to decide if Sean Greenboy Wallace is Man or Myth.

December 2004

Dr. D. L. Murray

Wednesday: March 15, 2000

Well, I'm 3000 miles in the air headed west to stay with my uncle Thomas. New York is behind me and Township, USA is in front of me. I'm not excited about leaving and I'm damn sure not looking forward to arriving. At the same time I know there was no way my mother was letting me stay in the Bronx. Not that I blame her. What single-mother wouldn't be freaked out by a visit from the police claiming her sixteen-year-old son was a key witness in a murder case. They basically told her I had witnessed two guys arguing in front of the public library and then whispered something to one of the guys before he shot the other guy in the face. The killer was gone by the time the police arrived at the scene but they interrogated me until they got enough to begin building a lead. They were especially interested in what I had whispered to the killer.

I told them I had overheard the killer accuse the now dead guy of raping his little sister at the library a few months earlier. When the dead guy denied ever being at the library, I pulled the killer aside and whispered to him that I had personally seen the liar coming out the men's room fixing his pants with a distraught-looking teenage girl trailing behind. I had no idea the killer would pull out a gun and shoot the guy as soon as I walked a way, I assured the police.

Fortunately the police came across several other witnesses to collaborate my story. There was an old woman and her granddaughter who had followed me into the library, and a librarian who had watched me walk into the library just before hearing the shots. The police were certain I didn't do anything wrong, but were concerned the killer might want to find me and eliminate me as the only witness who could identify him. Crazy shit, right?

That was all my mother needed to hear. Before I knew it I was at the airport boarding a plane to a place I can't even find on the map. I'm serious. I'm going to the middle of nowhere. I Googled Township, USA and got nothing. I'm supposed to land in North Dakota and meet up with Thomas before we hop on one ofthose small ass planes famous people are always crashing in. And when I say the middle of nowhere, I mean the middle of nowhere. Thomas insisted I not bother bringing a cell phone or a computer because there is no internet access or cellular service.

Who the fuck doesn't have internet access in this day and age! That brings me to another thing. I don't even know Thomas. He's my mother's brother, and he calls us up once or twice a year to say what's up, but I've never met the man. Evidently he's been living in Township for the last seven years.

Shit, if my mother and the police knew what I know, they'd be less concerned about some so-called killer looking for me in New York and more concerned about sending me to live with some stranger in a Mid-West town that's completely cut off from the modern world. If only they knew that the old woman's granddaughter was my long-time girlfriend or that the librarian had grown to be a like a loving aunt to me over the many years I had been going to that library, then there would be a lot less concern about my safety and a lot more doubt about what really happened in front of that library. But at the end of the day there are only two facts that matter: A rapist is dead and I'm on my way to Township, USA.

Friday: March 17, 2000

This town is so strange that I don’t know if I should be amused or afraid. I mean, I’ve only been here for two days and I’ve already been threatened twice. That’s my word, today was like a scene from the Twilight Zone. I got up bright and early, brushed my teeth, washed my ass, got dressed, and then headed out to the bus stop. I was kind of excited. School is my thing! I was really looking forward to making some new friends and getting to know my new teachers. Man, I got hit with a reality check as soon as I stepped on that bus.

What’s up? I greeted when the bus door swung open.

The overweight woman driving the bus rolled her eyes at me and said, Get on the bus, find a seat, and sit down.

No doubt, I responded as coolly as possible, trying my best to avoid the public embarrassment of being chewed out by the grouchy driver. I obviously didn’t do a good job because seventeen sets of eyes were glued to me as I searched for a seat. What’s popping? I said, but no one responded.

A quick survey revealed an empty two-seater in the back of the bus and a free seat beside a pretty young lady with dark-brown skin and shoulder-length hair. Good morning, I said while easing next to the chocolate princess. She cut her brown eyes at me and then looked straight ahead as if I didn’t exist. Damn, it wouldn’t kill you to speak, I teased.

The entire bus echoed with, Shhhhh!

The driver snapped her head back at me. Ex-cuse me suga, but we don’t tawlk during this ride.

I couldn’t believe it, but I kept my mouth shut for the rest of the ride. It was just good to know that shawty next to me didn’t diss me. She didn’t speak because she couldn’t, and I was gonna make it my business to holla at her when we got to the school. It turned out that she couldn’t wait to talk to me either. She tapped me on the shoulder as soon as we got off the bus.

What’s up? I answered after scanning her five-foot-five petite frame.

She rested her hands on her thin waist and pointed a finger at my nose. Don’t ev-ver, she violently shook her head as she continued, ev-ver sit next to me again unless I invite you. Do you understand?

Students were still pouring out of the thirteen busses that had lined up in front of the school. I realized that a lot of attention was being paid to me and shawty’s conversation. I hear you. It won’t happen again. I walked away laughing before she could respond.

I had to laugh at her. She was really upset. What’s funny is that she spazzed out like I should’ve known better. I guess they got all kinds of rules about how we’re supposed act on the bus. I hear that hot shit! We’ll see how shawty reacts when I sit next to her ass again on Monday morning. And that bus driver got another thing coming if she thinks I’m gonna spend that long ass ride as quiet as a church mouse every morning. Can you believe that shit, and that’s only how my day started. It didn’t take long for things to get worse.

I checked in at the school’s administration office and then spent three hours at the nurses’ office getting a physical and giving blood before I was told that I had to go before some orientation committee.

Follow me, a tall, thin, secretary in her mid-thirties told me. All of the academic classes are on the first floor. The top floor is where our vocational classrooms are located. She took me on a tour of the first floor and then led me to the second floor of the two-story building.

The second floor sounded like a factory. There were twenty-three classrooms and each of them was equipped with some kind of power tool. Believe me when I say that I have no intentions of stepping into any of those rooms. That’s just not me!

Here we are, she announced as we approached an office directly above the administration office. She opened the door and motioned me to enter. Good luck.

Thanks, I said instinctively, but I didn’t understand what luck had to do with getting my class schedule, until I saw four giant-size Black men sitting behind a huge wooden table like a panel of senators holding a hearing. These dudes were huge. They could pass for quadruplets. They shared the same squared forehead, flat wide nose, receding hairline, and devilishly arched brows.

Close the door and have a seat, the man on the far right bellowed, making it known that he was the committee’s chairman.

I shut the door and reluctantly sat in the chair in front of them. I’m here to get my schedule right?

The other men watched as the chairman did all of the talking. My brothers and I have been through your academic records. I think it’s important for you to know that we have a very unique but standard program here. From Monday to Thursday, our students do a half-day at the school and a half-day at one of the factories. The factory job starts off at $11 an hour. We’ve decided that the Aluminum Factory is the best place for you.

I almost laughed in their faces. Nah, I’m not taking a factory job. I cut the spokesman off before he could respond. And don’t bother putting me in a vocational class either. No need playing games. I figured I’d go all-out from the gate.

The chairman raised a brow. What was that? he asked while clenching his fist. His brothers looked at me like they wanted to fling my frail ass against the wall.

I felt tension in the air and paused before responding. I mean, I’m only five-seven and a buck sixty soaking wet, but I love challenges. I’ll be fine with academic classes.

The chairman knocked his knuckles on the table. You don’t understand. We said that we had a standard program. I really don’t think you want to toy with anything outside of that program.

The brother to the left of the chairman flipped through a folder and then whispered in the chairman’s ear. All right, the chairman stated after hearing his brother out. You’re a smart kid. I’m sure we can get you started at $15 an hour. We also have a supervisors program for exceptional students like yourself.

I shook my head in disbelief. They were trying to bribe me. Only if they knew what that did for my ego! You can’t be serious. They didn’t reply. Keep your factory job. I’d rather go to school all day.

The chairman cracked his knuckles. Listen son, experience has proven that living outside of our system makes it very dif-fi-cult to survive in our town. You need to know that your decision affects more than just yourself. Don’t be selfish.

See, that was a threat, but I ignored it and said, Academic classes will do just fine.

Well, the chairman said while writing on a sheet of paper. Have it your way. This is your schedule. He handed me a list of my classes. You have the entire weekend to think this over. I suggest you sit down with your uncle Thomas and see what he thinks. He’s a good man. If you change your mind, come see us Monday morning.

I looked at the list and got up. Thank you very much for your time.

I was a little upset when I left their office. I didn’t like being threatened, but I decided to use it as motivation. I’m determined to take anything and everything they try to throw at me at that corny ass school. I don’t give a shit about their so-called system. Still, that was only the first time I got threatened today. If you think that threat was over some bullshit, the second threat was over something even crazier.

They only do a half day of school on Fridays. The bell rang just as I was leaving the orientation committee. They must have a high-tech intercom system or something because everyone avoided me like the plague as I walked through the halls. And then nobody said a word to me on the ride home. Not that it bothered me. I stretched out on that empty two-seater and took a nap. I thought about telling the whole bus to kiss my ass before I got off at my stop, but that would’ve been acknowledging what they were trying to do.

I got home a little after one o’clock. Talk about boredom. Thomas’s house doesn’t have anything but the bare necessities. I mean, the man has a twenty-year-old, nineteen-inch, floor model, color TV that blinks in and out like a strobe light. The thing probably came with the damn house. The same thing goes for the livingroom’s beat-up old sofa. Everything in the house looks third or fourth hand and smells like mothballs. I took a seat and tried to watch TV, but the blinking screen and the annoying smell proved to be too much for me to handle. Not to mention the fact that the TV only had two stations that played nothing but game shows and sitcoms from the 1960’s.

It was only 2:15 and I didn’t have a thing to do so I went in my room and pulled my bag of books from under my bed. Unfortunately, I only traveled with ten books. I would’ve never guessed that I was moving to a place that didn’t have a library. The worst part is that I’ve already read all of the books that I brought. Still, I chose Niccolo Machiavelli’s The Discourses and laid down on my bed to read. I got so into the book that four hours passed like a blink of an eye. Before I knew it, Thomas was standing at my bedroom door interrogating me about the orientation committee.

Why didn’t you take the job? he asked while shaking his head.

I sat up and tossed the book aside. That’s not me.

He frowned and stepped in the room. What does that mean? Working’s not you?

That’s not what I meant. I’m not trying to work in nobody’s factory.

Thomas chuckled. Boy, there ain’t no other jobs ‘round here. You have to work at the factory. That’s how things run here. You have to go to school Monday and take that— He was interrupted by a knock at the front door. I’ll be right back.

I was kind of stuck when he left the room. I couldn’t believe that he was telling me that I had to take a factory job. Plus, I sensed a touch of fear in his voice. I felt kind of bad for a second, like I put him out there.

Sean, it’s for you, he yelled from the livingroom.

I reluctantly tossed my sneakers on and went to see who it was. Listen when I tell you that my mouth nearly fell to the floor when I laid eyes on my visitor. Beauty is an understatement. Eyes like Jada Pinket, lips like Jessica Alba, complexion like Naomi Campbell, breasts like Tyra Banks, and a figure like a five-eight version of Lisa Raye. Her thick long hair was pulled back into a bun revealing her Sade-size forehead and naturally clear skin. I’ve never seen plain blue jeans and a t-shirt look so good on any woman. I had to catch my breath. What’s up? I managed to say as calmly as possible.

She extended her hand with a youthful smile that told me that she was in her late teens. My name is Layla.

Sean, I replied while shaking her hand.

Thomas cleared his throat. Umm, Layla came by to take you for a ride, he muttered nervously.

Something didn’t feel right. I cut my eyes between the two of them before giving Layla my undivided attention. A ride?

She shot me a smirk that melted my heart. Yeah, I want to show you around our town. she stepped back and turned to leave. I’ll be waiting for you in the car, she said as I watched her walk out the door.

Who is that? I asked Thomas.

He looked at me with a touch of fear and warning in his eyes. It looks like you’re about to find out for yourself, he considered his words before continuing. The best thing for you to do is to go with her and let her show you what she has to show you.

I wasn’t about to complain about my uncle telling me to go with a beautiful woman. He didn’t have to tell me twice. I damn near ran out the house and hopped in her Ford F-I50. I must admit that she looked awkward in the truck’s driver’s seat, but the brand new truck is probably the newest thing in Westside, so it matched her uniqueness.

We drove around for an hour without saying a word to each other. Every now and then someone squinted to see us behind the truck’s tinted windows or waved hello. It was obvious that everyone knew who was behind the wheel. Layla slowed down in front of a few red-brick buildings that were sprinkled throughout the Westside and then floored it until we were at the outskirts of town. My antennas went up a bit