Every Sentence Must Come to an End: Vol. 1

By O. G. Wiseman

Kenny Ratchet Walker is born into a cold world. After his mother passes away during his delivery, Ratchet is adopted and raised by his grandmother. But as he grows up in New Jersey, his life is catapulted into chaos one day after school when fourteen-year-old Ratchet commits an unthinkable act.

As Ratchet is left dealing with the consequences of his actions, he must come to accept that his life is not turning out the way he imagined. With a family that hates him and the streets just waiting to swallow him, he eventually becomes much more than a nightmare to his adversaries. Even as he is presented with an opportunity to take the right path, Ratchet continues on a dark journey fueled by revenge and unresolved feelings as his mind plays tricks on him and his gun takes the lead. Now only time will tell if Ratchet can escape his pain and find peace before his soul is trapped in hell for all eternity.

In this contemporary urban thriller, a young man forced to face his painful reality discovers the true cost of bad choices as he struggles to find his place in a cruel world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Oct 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781480822207

O. G. Wiseman

O. G. Wiseman is a publisher and author of the novel, Queen Bee. He has been writing for nearly two decades and owns one of the most prolific catalogues today. O. G. currently resides in Pennsylvania.

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Copyright © 2015 Kevin E. Dolphin.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Archway Publishing

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Bloomington, IN 47403

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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ISBN: 978-1-4808-2219-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-2220-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015951295

Archway Publishing rev. date: 10/16/2015

Contents

Chapter 1 Through The Eyes Of A Child

Chapter 2 Your Gift

Chapter 3 Hooked

Chapter 4 The Trenches

Chapter 5 The Panther

Chapter 6 The Top

Chapter 7 Shoot Em’ Up

Chapter 8 Another Level

Chapter 9 Love Or Lust

Chapter 10 Don’t Ever Forget

Chapter 11 Headlines … .

Chapter 12 Life Is A B**tch

Chapter 13 It’s Lonely On The Inside

Chapter 14 The Essence of Time

Chapter 15 Kill! Kill! Kill! Murda’! Murda’! Murda’!

Afterword

Group Discussion

When Will It End?

DEDICATION

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO ALL OF THE MEN AND WOMEN WHO FIND THEMSELVES TRAPPED IN A PLACE WHERE MANY PEOPLE ARE NOT FORTUNATE ENOUGH TO MAKE THEIR WAY OUT OF.

–FOREVER, QUEEN BEE.

_____________________________________

SHOUT OUTS

TO THOSE WHO ARE IN THE EVERYDAY STRUGGLE, USE YOUR TRIALS TO MAKE YOU STRONGER, WISER AND ABLE TO VISUALIZE WHAT THE NAKED EYE IS UNABLE TO SEE.

TUDY PEPPERS, THE JBM DON, AARON JONES, DARRELL SMASH FORD, L.A. BROWN, CRAIG HAYNES, SCOTT LOVE, DARRELL PIERCE, RIP; LARRY DAVIS, JIMMY JOYCE, TILT, BERNARD WILLIAMS, RIP; TRENT MYRICK, SAM RANDOLPH, ALLISTER CAMPBELL, BLEE, MIKE MCKENNEY, SPIGG NICE, VICTOR CUZ PATTERSON, BILLY MARKS, TYQUEE FROM THE YOUNG GUNZ, AND MANY, MANY OTHERS. … . IF YOU DON’T SEE YOUR NAME THAT DOES NOT MEAN THAT I HAVE FORGOTTEN YOU -- THERE ARE COUNTLESS BOOKS TO COME.

HARRISBURG (COOK CITY), PHILLY, NEW YORK NY, ROCHESTER NY, NEW JERSEY, WASHINGTON DC, SYRACUSE, MARYLAND, SC, NC, FLORIDA, MEMPHIS TN., ATL, ALABAMA, ST. LOUIS, LA, SAN FRANSISCO, CA, THE ENTIRE EAST COAST, THE ENTIRE MID-WEST, DIRTY SOUTH, AND WEST COAST; STAND UP….ONE WORLD.

RATCHET

Chapter One

Through The Eyes Of A Child

E ntering the kitchen of his grandmother’s three story, red brick home, after another eventful day at school, 14 year old Ratchet (Kenny Walker) encountered one of the most horrible sights of his life. Frozen dead in his tracks, he was astounded by what was taking place. His six foot three, two hundred sixty pound uncle had his huge hands wrapped around his grandmother’s neck, trying to force her to give him some money. The entire scene seemed staged, but the horrendous and manic act was too real to be make believe. Ratchet’s uncle, Woe, was caught up in the grips of a very bad heroin addiction. He hadn’t been high in almost two days. The sickness from not being able to get his fix was becoming unbearable. Driven in madness by the need for the poisonous drug, he was willing to do anything to ease the excruciating pain that clawed at his insides, even rob his own mother.

Distraught by what he was witnessing, young Ratchet started screaming and yelling. Leave my nana alone! He cried after dropping his books and running towards his dope fiend uncle with his fists balled up.

Foaming at the mouth like a rabid mad dog, with his left hand still wrapped tightly around his mother’s neck, Woe smacked Ratchet with the right one, busting his nose and knocking him back into the kitchen wall. Come on now, Weisey! Just gimme’ the damn money! Woe demanded with slobber spewing over his bottom lip. I don’t wanna’ hurt nobody! Come on now!

Fighting with all of her strength, wrestling to break free from the death grip that was beginning to cut off her circulation, the old woman stammered as she strained to speak. I, I, I, I ain’t got no money, boy! Even if I did have some, I wouldn’t give it to you to go shoot no poison up in yo’ veins! Tightening the grip around his 72 year old mother’s throat, to the point of where her eyes were beginning to roll back up into her head, Woe blanked out. Just as he had raised his free hand to hit her in the face, Ratchet came back to his senses, ran over to the metal breadbox on the counter where his grandmother kept her trusty .38 special, picked the gun up and yelled at the top of his lungs.

Leave my nana alone, uncle Woe!

Snapping back to reality just seconds before smashing his mother’s face in, Woe released her, and turned on Ratchet. Gasping for air, while grabbing her throat, the old woman fell to her knees. Enraged, as if possessed by the devil himself, Woe began to advance toward his nephew. What you gonna’ do wit’ that, you lil’ bitch?! He chuckled sinisterly, sounding as if he had stolen a page from Jack Nicholson’s The Shining.

Pointing the fully loaded pistol, while shaking unsteadily, Ratchet warned, Don’t come any closer! I’m tellin’ you! Disregarding the youth’s foreboding, Woe took one final step before swinging a wild right at him. Jumping back just in time to dodge the blow, Ratchet squeezed the trigger. All six of the hollow tip bullets tore into Woe’s stomach and chest, jerking his body and knocking him off his feet. Traumatized with mind numbing disbelief and shock at what he had just done, Ratchet stood there with burning tears falling from his eyes like hot summer rain as he looked down at his dead uncle, who was laying there motionless, with one eye opened and one eye closed. Dropping the smoking gun, he buckled over and began to regurgitate. His weak stomach released everything that he had eaten for breakfast and lunch.

Still on her knees, trying to catch her breath, Ratchet’s grandmother screamed incredulously as she began to crawl over to her son’s body. Oooohhh myyyy ‘GOD’! No! After reaching his dead corpse, she took his lifeless frame into her arms and shook him as if she would be able to wake him up. Woe! Woe! Woe! Wooooeeee! But there was no answer, for his unclean soul had already left his body and began its journey to the obscure continent at the end of that bright hallway called the abyss (Hell). Blood flowed like the ‘Jordan River’ from Woe’s bullet wounds, and spilled over onto the azo colored linoleum floor, permanently ruining its once beautiful texture. Mourning the loss of her oldest child, Mrs. Jamerson dismissed what he had been doing to her just moments before the angel of death had paid him a visit. After about ten or eleven minutes of crying and trying to figure out exactly how she was going to go about handling the tragic dilemma, she calmed herself and began to explain to her grandson what was going to happen. Drowning in blood stained tears, Mrs. Jamerson bathed and changed her soiled clothes before calling the police and waiting for them to arrive.

* * * * * *

While Ratchet and his grandmother were sitting in the living room waiting for the police, they both sat in silence. Ratchet kept picturing the demonic look in his uncle’s eyes as he emptied the revolver into his six foot plus, awkward shaped frame. The horrid incident was something that would affect him mentally, in more ways than he would ever be able to fathom.

Already it had begun to psychologically take its course. The battle between good and evil were at war for control over his life. As Ratchet’s mind trifled with baneful spirits from the dark side, it also struggled to find a peaceful state of forgiveness and serenity. A common ground was far and distant. As Mrs. Jamerson sat across the room from him with a vacant look on her face, Woe’s two sisters, Lona and Liena, returned home from doing some research at the library. They were both students over at the Community College. Lona was studying to be a teacher, while Liena was majoring in economics. No sooner than the two of them had entered the house, they could sense that something was wrong. Just as Lona had sat down on the couch next to her mother and began to tell her about the books that she would need for the special report that her professor, Mrs. Pernell, had assigned the class to have finished by the end of the semester, Liena walked towards the kitchen. Mrs. Jamerson opened her mouth to try and stop her daughter so that she could explain what had happened, Liena, I need to --, but it was too late.

Stopping in midstride, Liena screamed out in a dreadful manner. The sight of her brother lying in the middle of the blood stained kitchen floor reeled her. No! No! Nooooo! Who did this to Woe?! She wailed frantically.

Alerted by her sister’s lancinating cry, Lona jumped up off the couch, leaving her mother and nephew, and dashed into the kitchen. What she saw was too much for her to cope with. AAAAAHHHHH! What happened?! She yelled before falling to the floor, kicking and pulling at her hair. Rushing to their aid, Mrs. Jamerson did her best to comfort both of them. Fighting to settle her daughters down, she slowly began to explain the whole situation. Despite knowing how rotten their brother Woe was, Lona and Liena still couldn’t accept him being murdered by their nephew. With deep disregard for their own mother’s life, they selfishly and senselessly persisted to think irrationally.

How did you let this happen Momma? Lona yelled inconsiderably.

Shaking her head while wiping her face, Liena agreed, yea! I can’t believe this! That boy done killed my brother!

It all happened so fast. I -–. As Mrs. Jamerson sobbed, while giving Lona and Liena the details on how Woe was choking her, she could feel their hatred for Ratchet growing.

Although her grandson had only been protecting her from a crazed, drug driven maniac, who had once been her loving son, she knew that her daughters would never forgive him for what he had done. Louise Jamerson had adopted and raised young Ratchet from birth; after his no good father had skipped town, and his mother, Linda had died on the operating table. Linda had been the second oldest of Mrs. Jamerson’s four children. Woe was 43, Linda was 16 at the time of her passing, fourteen years ago; Lona was now 21, and her youngest sister Liena was 20. For reasons that their mother could never understand, Lona and Liena never really got along with Linda. Although the three sisters were siblings, with blood lines from the same mother and father, their differences were very visible. Instead of Lona and Liena loving Linda, the two of them secretly despised her in every way. They almost appeared to be happy when she died. With Linda being gone, all of Lona and Liena’s hatred and envy of all the things she was, and all of the things that they could only hope to be, had turned towards her son. The tragic incident that had occurred with their brother Woe, had only added fuel to the fiery repulsion of their unwanted nephew. Ignorantly the two despicable sisters had been unable to see what had been seen through the eyes of a young, innocent child.

* * * * * *

The Pennsauken, New Jersey police arrived at Mrs. Jamerson’s residence along with the coroner, just as she had finished telling her daughters all about how their own, now deceased brother, had been choking her and trying to force her to give him money so that he could go get high. They were all taken down to the station for questioning. Ratchet was interrogated for almost four hours before being released into Mrs. Jamerson’s custody.

Months later, young Kenny Walker (Ratchet) would eventually go to the Children’s Youth Court and received a sentence of three and a half years probation for the offense. His grandmother had been very grateful that the judge hadn’t gone too hard on him. Especially seeing as how he had only been trying to protect her from being harmed. On the other hand, Lona and Liena were furious. What type of justice is that?! Liena snarled as she and her sister stormed out of the courtroom.

That no good heathen killed Woe!

Yea! Lona exclaimed. And all they gonna ‘ do is give him a slap on the wrist! I don’t know why they ain’t lock that lil’ bastard up!

Did you see, momma?!

Did I see her?! Girl, she made me so mad; up there defendin’ that boy after what he done! What is she thinkin’?!

I don’t know! But whatever it is, it ain’t about Woe! Lona and Liena had been hoping and praying that the courts would have sent Ratchet away for a long time. Their hardened hearts had made them unwilling to accept the decision that had been handed down for what had happened to Woe as justice; regardless of the fact that their mother’s life had been saved. Through all of the malice and hatred that the two sisters harbored concerning the tragic incident, the days to follow would be nothing nice for their nephew. The only love that he would receive would come from his grandmother. ‘GOD’ knew that he would need all of it.

During the next couple of years, many strange accidents would befall Ratchet; and most of them would occur when either Lona or Liena were around. One specific morning, right before school, Lona was fixing breakfast for Ratchet. She had a small pot of boiling water on the stove, in which she claimed that she was using to cook oatmeal for the two of them. After making sure the water was beyond a scalding temperature, she silently crept up behind him. Seated at the kitchen table, buttering his toast, an unsuspecting Ratchet was thinking about the science project that he was almost finished with. Just as Lona had reached the back of his chair, and was getting ready to dump the pot of hot liquid on his head, his sixth sense had compelled him to suddenly turn around at that exact moment. Pretending to be startled by the sudden movement, she tripped over her own two feet and spilled the boiling water all over his back and upper half of his left leg. Leaping up from the chair that he had been sitting in, and almost out of his skin, Ratchet howled, AAAAAHHHHHHH! Nana!

Upset that she hadn’t succeeded with her premeditated act of infamy, Lona shrilled in a syrupy voice, dripping wet with an intense evil delight. Boy! Why you make me spill all that damn water! Frightened, dismayed and in searing pain from his burning flesh, Ratchet was too shocked to speak. As if he was physically on fire he bolted upstairs to his grandmother’s room so that she could examine and comfort him. After realizing how serious her grandson’s supposed accidental injury was, Mrs. Jamerson rushed him off to the hospital. Following a brief checkup, and treatment for minor second degree burns extending from his upper left leg to the lower portion of his back, the attending physician informed Mrs. Jamerson of Ratchet’s condition. He had explained to her how serious the injury was, and that certain areas of his skin would be discolored for the rest of his life. The doctor gave Mrs. Jamerson a large tube of ointment, prescribed some other medications for her to pick up at the local pharmacy, and told her to bring him back in a couple of weeks so that the healing could be monitored.

That wasn’t the half of it. The next accident to befall Ratchet at the hands of his vengeful aunts occurred while he was in the tub, taking a bath. Rushing into the bathroom, without knocking on the door, Liena pretended to be reaching for the blow dryer that was hanging from a wooden hook on the wall above the toilet, next to the sink. Swinging her right hand aimlessly, she knocked the portable radio off of the toilet bowl tank, into the tub. It landed in the soapy water with a splash; in a shower of bright, hissing sparks and smoke. However, before the electric device had a chance to hit the water, erupting in a small fireworks display, Ratchet for some strange instinctual reason, leaped up out of the tub and again evaded being seriously injured or killed. As if she was oblivious to the death that her nephew had just barely escaped, at her hand, Liena hissed with the venom of a deadly snake. I know you ain’t finished bathin’ yet, boy! Wit’ yo’ filthy self! You know momma don’t play no dirty people layin’ around this house! With a befuddled and ghastly look on his face, Ratchet stood nude, dripping wet before his diabolical aunt, too shook up to speak.

* * * * * *

Returning home a few hours later that evening from her part time job at the ‘Red Cross’ center, where she vacuumed the floors and emptied the garbage cans three nights a week, Mrs. Jamerson was informed by Ratchet of his latest near death encounter with his aunt.

Still shaken by the eerie ordeal, he had trouble with his words. She did what?! Engrossed by what she was hearing, Mrs. Jamerson was furious with Liena. After her talk with her grandson, she gave her daughter such a livid cursing out that anyone who had known her would have sworn that she had lost her religion. Trembling with relief, and a slowly dying anger, she was thankful that no irreparable harm had befallen him. Holding Ratchet tightly in her arms as the two of them continued their talk later on that night, she assured him that everything was going to be alright. Don’t you worry’ baby. She said in a comforting voice. Your Nana loves you, and I’m gonna’ always be here for you. Don’t you ever think otherwise. Realizing that her two daughters’ hatred for her grandson was growing beyond control, Mrs. Jamerson knew that if he wasn’t careful it would only be a matter of time before one of them succeeded in severely hurting or killing him. That was no way for a child to grow up. Ratchet had to be on his toes at all times around Lona and Liena. His grandmother’s heart was heavy with worry and sorrow as she thought about his welfare. She often contemplated about telling him about the unseen dangers that he was up against, but she couldn’t figure out how to do it without breaking up what was left of her family. At night as she searched for the answer, she would sink to her knees and ask for guidance on how to deal with the disturbing situation.

* * * * * *

During the summer of 1983, young Ratchet sprouted up like one of the vegetables that were out back in his grandmother’s garden. He went from being a skinny string bean to being a solid six foot one, two hundred twenty nine pounds, with broad shoulders and a wide chest. In very small ways, he kind of resembled his deceased uncle, Woe. Having become involved in sports, he had acquired a strong athletic build and the type of drive to go along with it. The following school year, Ratchet had transferred from Pennsauken to Camden High for better academic programs and opportunities. The staff at the Pennsauken school district was racially biased, and Mrs. Jamerson felt that her grandson would benefit best from attending a school where some of the teachers and staff could actually see his potential, help nurture his enhancing athletic abilities and believe in him as a person. In no time at all, Ratchet became Camden High’s star wide receiver on the football team; scoring at least two touchdowns a game. He also averaged a B+ in all of his classes. The coach ran nearly 75% of the team’s offensive plays through Ratchet. His