Jasmine's Tears

By Elliot Graves

The Crestwood Heights apartment complex plays host to some of the seediest parts of Chicago's inner city. The between the buildings are a breeding ground for prostitution, drug addiction, and the mediums who profit from such decay. This also happens to be the place Jasmine Fisher calls home. Trapped in its world of over indulgence and self-destruction, Jasmine fights a losing battle to keep her sanity. She tries desperately to hold on to her life, while struggling to break free from the hold that the dark corridors and crime-ridden alleyways of Crestwood Heights has on her. There's no father in the house, a kid sister to look after, and a mother who barely scraped by with enough money to keep them living in the cramped one bedroom apartment. Jasmine is left with no other decision, but to take it upon herself to secure a way out of this wasteland. After hooking up with a variant of unfaithful boyfriends that range in economic status from drug addicts to fake wannabe ballers, Jasmine meets Curtis. It is a union that may improve her life or seal her fate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Passionate Writer Publishing
• Release date: Apr 2, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452485553

Elliot Graves

Right. Its that time again. Where we both sit here and do our best to come up with the appropriate words to both describe and give a somewhat reasonable explanation for the existence of the craftsman behind this piece. In the end it hardly seems worth it. I mean, the man does all but absolutely defy description. But if I were ever forced to make an attempt at defying him in name my best foot forward would start out with something along the lines of a veritable silent shadow nestled amidst the thunderously bleak, sociopathic air surrounding him. If the world were a canvas his color would be the ignored mix on the palette mocking the work of the artist. The sort of mentality that could spend a lifetime laboring to construct a wall with a single window space cut into it only to use the next fifteen minutes after the last brick was laid to black out the glass with a brush coated in tar. Hes a menace for the simple fact that he could never think of a good enough excuse to be one. His freedoms based on movement, but the only time he can dream is when hes standing still. Graves. A poor mans false hope. Enthusiastic in his apathy and content with his sullenness. And hes writing. Thank you. www.myspace.com/plotholes