A Hood's Love, By George Martorano

By George Martorano

The United States of America's Longest Prison Sentence, Life Sentence for First Time Non Violent Offense without possibility of parole and America's most prolific prison writer George Martorano Needs Your Help.

• Language: English
• Publisher: George Martorano
• Release date: Apr 26, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458019011

George Martorano

The United States of America's Longest Prison Sentence, Life Sentence for First Time Non Violent Offense without possibility of parole and America's Most prolific prison writer George Martorano Needs Your Help.You can only protect your liberties in this world by protecting the other man's freedom. -Clarence Darrow

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A Hoods Love

Published by George Martorano at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 George Martorano

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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A HOOD’S LOVE

After sixteen years in prison one would think he had enough of staring, dreaming out a window. Even if each and every one has bars. The last, the very last one Ally stood at was the R. & D. room at Beaumont Federal Prison in Texas. Today he will be leaving his last day of so many.

He put his signature on some papers. Now they had him in a small room with a window. The window faced the free world through two chain link fences. What he was waiting for was a local cab. No prisoner can walk off the place. No, one has to be picked up by someone or a cab.

********

There wasn’t anyone left for Ally. No family, no friends, all were taken by violence. You see, a mob was in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania. A war the Octavian family was winning until Ally was arrested. Doing the jail time wasn’t enough suffering. It must have been three then four times he was brought to the Warden’s office for bad news from home. The one woman he loved was the last. Though no bullet took her, loneliness did.

He didn’t see his reflection, the gray at the sides of his brown hair, or the emptiness of his dark eyes. At this very time, moment, of his life Ally Boy Octavian was staring at an ugly Southeast Texas bird. A brown bird that favored one foot, no less from an injury.

Razor wire, Ally whispered to himself.

********

Cab’s here Octavian, the guard’s voice came after he unlocked the door. Yet, Ally heard the unlocking, he didn’t turn. Anyone else would’ve jumped with the built up anxiousness within, but not him. Why? He knew where he was going, what lied ahead up north. And he’ll get there his way, his time of things, and…

The cab ride to Beaumont’s bus station was short, eleven minutes in all. They told him across the street from it was a bank. Where he should cash in the prison check, not much. What they didn’t know was the money put there years ago. No, the Octavian family was gone but the one left wasn’t broke. In banks and hidden places Ally was a very rich man. A man alone with only one thing on his mind, revenge. Revenge was a picture of man in his head with black wiry hair and a thin pock-marked face and the letter F of his first name.

He withdrew all of it, thirty two thousand in hundreds. Stepped out into the hot Texas sun, took one look at the bus station and moved on. He forced his mind to fill up with pleasant things. Pittsburgh wouldn’t go away, sink or vanish from an earthquake. No, the town would be there and those in it. Those he’d have to kill. Now it was time for himself, at least a couple of weeks.

In Pittsburgh, Frank and his crew would know he’d be out today. Expect him to be in town fast. Expect him to corner off a section of town. See what guys he would put around him. The names of those men they really wanted. They had his. The men who would do battle, but paid men non-the-less.

Walking down the two-lane road, Ally grinned to himself. Knowing by not getting there fast would make Frank and the others nervous. They’d complain it was the garlic that was making their stomachs upset, their churning minds were another matter. Ally Boy on the other end of a gun could cause sleepless nights.

No, not to rush was best for right now….as he stretched out his arms high, relaxed, and kept walking.

In two hours he was well out of town and still heading east. Matter of fact from where he was and heading, it was a straight line east to New Orleans. A place Frank and them would never expect. Maybe Philly or New York, even Miami but never New Orleans. Only a fool would rush toward a fight, death even. After sixteen years it was time to feel human again, a woman maybe.

********

As he walked along he had everything mapped out in his head, the direction, he had years to learn. He wanted to stay off the main roads just walk along and stick his thumb out once in a while for a ride. With the money, monies he had, he could of bought a new car, a limo for that matter, to take him to Bourbon Street. But that was him years ago. Now he was older, forty-five, and if he could make himself forget the mob stuff, not a care in the world.

After ten miles traveled from a short hitch from a farmer in a muddy blue pickup truck, Ally found himself on a silent black top road. The jeans the prison supplied along with the white shirt stuck to his hips, tight from the hundreds in all four pockets. But his feet didn’t hurt, no, the walking shoes he worn were his own, bought right from the prison commissary just last week.

He saw an old bench under a tree 'bout twenty yards in the forest. When he got there, there was a burned out home behind it. Expect it was a love bench of some sort. He sat and looked to his right where she was supposed to be. He laughed, then began to listen to the sounds of the woods about him. He wondered about those who sought to take his life could see him now alone, in front of a burned out shack, on a love-seat, would they pause before they pulled the trigger….. or just pull.

In time, a car passed out on the road. The sound of it made Ally stand. He just began walking around the home looking. Seeing the different colors of the charred wood. Behind the place was a pretty patch of different color flowers. He knelt by them, thinking they were here for the sadness. In this very hot and humid weather year round, he bet the flowers were sad too. He took off his shirt and spread it out. He lay on his back near the flowers and looked up through the limbs. The sun wasn’t above; no it was all the way to the left, west and fading slowly at this time of year. Plenty of time to close his eyes plenty of time to breathe freedom. Ally exhaled and soon dosed off…

********

When he awoke it was dark, he didn’t move fast… He focused on the stars he captured through the same space and wondered why no mesquites were devouring him. The flowers smelled stronger now. Maybe it was their scent… He put on his shirt and moved on.

Bye.… he said to the empty seat on the love bench as he passed.

Out on the road he didn’t even give a glance back. No, he held his head high and walked on with the moon light fading. After all, New Orleans wasn’t China. From the Beaumont prison till there was a little over two hundred miles…. He kept walking east swallowing the new dawn.

Since Beaumont was near the Louisiana border Ally was actually in the state after his second hitch. Now on his third ride in a car of some traveling salesman, New Orleans was only another sixty miles. But this ride ended