Chronicles of the Creek

By Dellvon Ford and Richard Means

Reading this book will help one to understand that although this is a book of fiction, there is some truth to the overall story. This book follows a young man who is the eleventh of thirteen kids through some of the trials and tribulations of growing up in a housing project.
He is searching for his niche in life that will make him fit in with what he feels is society. He joins the U.S. Army and barely makes it out alive after nearly three years.
After discharging from the army he settles back into civilian life working hard and peddling drugs

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491874561

Dellvon Ford

This book has the main ingredients needed to make a book a page turner. There is the suspense that will keep you riveted to your seat. There is the violence that will make you wonder about some stuff. Then there have to be some sex in the whole mix.

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© 2014 Richard Means. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 12/02/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4918-7455-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-7456-1 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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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.

I would like to

dedicate this story to my deceased Mom and Dad, may they forever rest in peace in heaven.

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T his story begins with the birth of a man child born on April first 1958.

Coincidently, that is April fool’s day for most of us. I am the eleventh of thirteen kids born to Franklin and Roberta Wilson. Mrs. Wilson went into labor on Monday March thirty first at eleven forty five in the evening. By twelve thirty that night or that Tuesday morning Alexander was born. The delivery was the easiest that Mrs. Wilson had of all the previous births.

When Alexander was born the delivery doctor was very much surprised by what was covering the child’s face. The doctor could not believe what he was seeing. I had a kind of thin membrane covering my entire face. It was just translucent enough to be able to see through it.

Upon closer inspection the doctor found that the membrane was attached to two tiny holes right in front of the earlobes. When the doctor removed the membrane there seemed not to be any pain at all. The doctor was an old guy and he explained that the membrane was called a veil. When it is present at a birth meant that the child was special.

The moment the membrane was removed the man child knowingly gazed into the eyes of everyone in the room. The doctor was amazed at the awareness the child possessed. It was uneasy on all who were present during the delivery. Here was a child that was less than five minutes old acting as if he was interested in everyone in his presence.

The child was cleaned and given to Mrs. Wilson to admire and hold. She requested that the doctor to wrap the membrane for her to take home with the child. In time she was going to burn the materials in a ritual to seal in the effects of the magic it contains.

She also believed that a child born with a veil also possessed a sixth sense. Three days later the baby and parents left the hospital on their way to 139 V Street in North West Washington DC. With all of the children born to the Wilson’s, they were living very near the poverty level. The house was a three story brownstone situated right in the middle of the block.

The new addition to the family was welcomed by all except the youngest child that the new child replaced. Oh he didn’t like the new addition at all and all the attention that was being bestowed on his little brother. He even tried thinking of several ways to get rid of this new addition. Every time an idea came up in his mind, he would nix it because even at that young age he knew that he would get in some serious trouble for just thinking of what he was thinking.

We eventually moved from the house in North West and moved into a house in South West. This was a fairly large house with a big back yard to play in. It was in a housing project called Jersey Creek. There were times when I would see things in this house that no one else ever seen. To this day I can’t really explain what I had seen

By now there were two more girls added to the Wilson household. I was watching my youngest sister sleeping one day and something strange occurred. A mist began to form and a ghostly boy materialized and began to stroke my baby sister’s head. I wasn’t sure what I was seeing nor exactly what to do. But just as soon as it came, it left without even acknowledging me.

These ghostly figures that seemed angelic and demonic never caused me any harm. I also never felt any fear when I encountered them in my youth. There were always certain places that I would go that seemed to be teaming with these figures. It was like in some of these places they were kind of stuck there.

The first few years were uneventful until I started kindergarten. On the first day of school I was under the impression that my mom was going to stay with me all day. When she began to collect her coat to leave, I started to get my coat to leave also. When I was informed that I was staying in class all alone caused a sense of abandonment right from the start.

I was not a problem child but there were times when trouble was my constant companion. There were nine boys in the family and I was the youngest of all (the real baby boy). All the older brother’s felt that they had something to teach me.

The third youngest brother felt that after seeing me fight one day that I was in need of a lesson in pugilism.

We so happen to have a pair of sixteen ounce boxing gloves in our house when I was growing up. My brother would take me into an empty bedroom and teach me to box properly. When my brother saw me defending myself one day he just hung his head at the tactics I was using. During the altercation I would lower my head and flail wildly like I was a windmill.

One of the first lessons was to always keep my head up and come in looking my opponent straight in the eye. He also taught me that a well-placed head butt was always a good weapon. He told me that in order to throw an accurate punch; I have to see what I was pointing at. He began to throw straight jabs to my head to emphasize his point. By the time each session ended I possessed a severe headache.

There were times when I would flat out refuse the lessons due to the impending headache that came along with it. My brother was ready for that most of the time. He would bribe me with money and other goodies he kept stashed away. Being a kid it was hard to resist money and or the treats he had for me. Reluctantly I would don the gloves and get the lesson over and don with.

I endured those lessons for three months and was very adept at defending myself from punches. About two weeks after the training was done I encountered one of the neighborhoods bullies that had bullied me in the past.

I was leaving the market after doing some light shopping for my mom. Soon as I hit the side walk, I noticed Taji, Ben and Bucky slithering around a corner heading straight towards me. I just knew that there was gonna be some trouble and braced myself for it.

As soon as Taji saw me he headed straight towards me with his hands out reaching for one of my bags. While he was reaching for the bag, he asked what was in that bag. I told him that these were groceries my mother sent me for. He tried to snatch a bag again but I wouldn’t let him have it and that made Taji furious.

So Taji tried another strategy by getting up close and personal in my face. When he did this that opened himself up for some major pain. I took full advantage of this chance and slammed my forehead into his face with all the force that I could muster. Taji screamed like the bitch that he was and while clasping his bleeding face, collapsed to the ground.

I set the bags down and straddled this fool and began to pound his hands into his face while he was trying to prevent me from hitting his face directly. Another scream escaped him while his two flunkies stood around and watched.

Ben and Bucky wanted none of what I was doing to their so-called leader. They were a couple of heartless punks that couldn’t do anything on their own accord. What they were watching put the fear of God in their jellied hearts and they decided that is was time to leave. And that they did, leaving Taji on the ground whimpering like a sucker.

They had to know that Taji was going to kick their asses as soon as he caught up with them. Or … they could get a spine and show some heart and fight back. I really didn’t care what happen to those punks as long as they didn’t bother me. I walked on home feeling kind of exhilarated and vindicated with all of my mom’s groceries intact.

I didn’t even have to use my fist for Taji and that felt very good indeed. I guess my lessons paid off quite well after all. I wasn’t the type of kid that would start trouble just for spite even though I was a big kid for my age. I guess you can say that I was a gentle giant.

There was another time when I was bored to death at the house eating some fresh coconut. There was a piece that would not give up its meat and I came up with a not so bright idea of how to get it out. One of my brother’s was in the room with me reading a newspaper to himself at the time. I figured that if I got something sharp I could get this piece of meat from the shell.

So my idea was to set the nail upright on the floor and balancing the shell on top and stamping down onto it. Well everything work out like that in theory but I failed to understand that the nail was gonna continue into my foot.

That is exactly what happen to me. When it happen there wasn’t any pain but I knew that I was in trouble. I let out a loud moan which got the brother’s attention and all he could do was look at me like I had just lost my mind. He rushed over to examine what I did to myself and knew that he could not just yank the nail out.

Just so happen, my father had just driven up and was parking his car on the street. Now I know that my dad wanted to come in the house and relax and eat his dinner. When he came in the house the first thing he spied was my brother tending to my injured foot. He sprung in to action and lifted me up from the floor and put me in the car. He took me to Casualty Hospital to admit me to get the nail out of my foot.

He and the doctors asked me how I managed to get a nail into my foot. I told them that I mistakenly stepped on it running through the house. When I got to the emergency room they took a look at the damage and admitted me into the hospital. I was put on a ward to wait for the morning so that a proper doctor could examine the foot and put a plan of operation in order.

Early the next morning several doctors examined the injured foot and ordered preparations for surgery. One hour later I was rolled from my room and into an operating room thirteen to prep for the impending surgery to remove the nail from my foot.

A nurse placed a clear mask over my face and instructed me to count backwards from one hundred. By the time I got to eighty eight I was in La-la land. When left alone I felt that there were folks swirling all around me on the gurney in that room. It seemed like people were trying to talk to me while I was unconscious on the table.

I was aware of the many people who had expired in this very room. Some were destined to die and there were some that died from the ineptness from a doctor who didn’t know what the hell he was doing. There was much sorrow in this cold and bright room and it seemed to harbor the sadness that permeated the place.

I endured the inquiries that were put to me by these lost souls bombarding me with questions I had not the answer to. I kept hearing my name being called over and over again until I awaken to find a cute nurse shaking me awake after the surgery. I was examining the bandaged foot when the operating doctor strolled in and handed me the shoe that was surgically removed from my foot to remove the nail.

I was madder about the mangled shoe than I was about the nail on my foot. The doctor had to cut the shoe straight down from the instep to the sole of the shoe. He also explained that luckily when this accident occurred, the nail did not hit any of the bones in my foot.

I spent the next two weeks in the hospital and became quite popular with many of the nurses. As a matter of fact when I was finally released from the hospital several of the nurses presented me with a box with a brand new pair of Chuck Taylor’s sneakers for a parting gift. I could not believe my good fortune when they gave me the box with the sneakers in them.

I leapt up out of that wheel chair to give those nurses a hug but soon realized that it was not to be. A sharp bolt of pain shot up my leg and almost made me faint because of all the pain. I profusely thanked those nurse’s and was rolled out to where my dad was waiting for me in the car.

When I got home the same brother that was there when this whole ordeal occurred met me at the door. He gently lifted me up and deposited me onto the leather couch in the living room. It took another week of recuperation before I was well enough to go back to school.

The Wilson household was becoming like Fort Knox at this time. Everybody had come to the point that you had to put a lock and key on anything you had of value. There were four heroin addicts living in this one house that were stealing and selling whatever that wasn’t nailed down.

The only one that was semi immune from this hardship was Mr. Wilson. There were two boys and two girls’ addicts living in our house at one time. They were pretty strung out on that dope and it made them not give a damn about the rights of anybody but themselves. The older son that was strung out decided one day that he was gonna steal dad’s snub nosed thirty eight pistol that he kept in a suit coat pocket.

When my father came home that evening he was told by a neighbor that my brother tried to sell him his pistol. My father thanked him for the information and went to check to see if his pistol was really missing. It was missing and he was furious about my brother having the nerve to actually take something from him.

My dad sat down at the table and had his meal like there was nothing amidst in the household. About eight fifty that night my brother strolled into the house like nothing was up. He was high as Cudda Brown and not feeling any pain … . Not yet anyway. My father spied him when he stepped in the door and saw that he was trying to avoid direct eye contact.

My father called him to him and asked him one simple question … the question was where is my gun? My brother tried to laugh it off saying that he didn’t know what he was talking about. I sat there watching and was amazed at what I saw next.

Mr. Wilson flew from the chair he was sitting in and grabbed my brother by the throat with one hand and punched him in his face with the other. Blood splattered over dad’s shirt while my brother slumped down to the floor in a heap.

Dad then got his glass of water and splashed it in his face to revive him.

He then pulled his pocket knife out of his pocket and slowly inserted it in my brother’s upper thigh. While pushing the knife into the muscle he told my brother that he didn’t care how he did it, but when he got home from work the next evening, that his pistol better be where it belonged.

And low and behold when dad arrived home from work the next day his pistol was exactly where he left it.

My father was an old school dad he believed in kicking some ass if needed. He was a man of few words. He was like E.F. Hutton, when he spoke, everyone listened. My dad only made it to the second grade due to the hardships he had to endure back during the depression in the south. He was forced to get a job at a very young age. Education wasn’t a big part of his rural life so he didn’t know how to read nor write.

There was one very distinguishing character my father possess and that was this paralyzing stare he would come to bare on you. By looking at his eyes alone the average person would think that he was drinking. My father wasn’t a regular drinker but he had some perpetually red bloodshot eyes. Where the whites of his eyes were supposed to be was tinted an orange red hue.

I’ve seen on many occasions when someone was doing something dumb or stupid and he would target them with those eyes and it was like you could feel them on you. Usually if those eyes came to bare on you, that would be enough to get you to stop the nonsense. Now like I said earlier, my father never had much to say, but if you needed some advice on life’s lessons he was there to help you out.

My father was the bread winner in the home and my mom was the disciplinary force to be reckoned with. If an ass needed to be knocked off that was mom’s job to do it. In our household we never ever heard my mom say, wait until your father gets home. By the time dad got home you were already in a world of pain.

The worst part of an ass whipping would be that you would have to go and cut your own switch. And please don’t go out and bring back some wimpy twig to do the job. If you did bring back a wimpy switch she would send someone else to get a better one.

My mom did distribute a fair amount of butt whippings; rarely did you get one that wasn’t deserved. I was getting older and was realizing that money was the key that made the world go around. I made it a point to get my fair share of what was available.

My parents taught me a good work ethic early on in life. I learned that honesty is the best policy and that you treat people like you want to be treated. While out shopping with my mom one day I seen something that I wish I had not have seen.

I’ve notice on several occasions while with my mother shopping some strange and peculiar things occur. On this one occasion I distinctly remember my mother picking up a large smoked ham. As we moved from isle to isle in the market I noticed that the ham was no longer in the basket. I noticed also that the extra-large purse my mother was carrying was fuller than it was when she first came in. so naturally I put two and two together and figured out what was going on. When we got home the ham materialized and it was served for dinner.

I was bright for my age and understood that we were poor and that my mom was simply trying to feed her family. I also knew that stealing was definitely wrong. So with that thought I had a sort of a warped sense of balance long after knowing that my mom was stealing to put food on the table.

I use to run errands for the neighborhood ladies when I was growing up. Getting twenty five cents a trip was a pretty lucrative business during this time. That same quarter could net you a sixteen ounce soda, a cupcake or enough candy to make your teeth ache. There were also several houses on the block that had a serious mouse problem and I was hired to extract them from traps.

I would be called to someone’s house and be asked to empty the trap of the dead mouse for the woman who were queasy about doing it themselves. I would net from fifty cents to a dollar depending whose house I was at. I would be called upon for this type of job at least three times a week.

My parents bought my brother’s and I a Red Flyer wagon for Christmas one year and that little red wagon paid for itself many times over. We would go to the local Safeway supermarket and hire ourselves out to carry peoples bags home when they over spent in the store.

We would take turns using the wagon to wait outside the store to see if anyone needed help taking their bags within walking distance. We would generally make about twenty bucks a day doing this in the neighborhood. Now that was a good little penny for an eleven year old kid in those days.

It was around this time I had my first real sexual encounter. The girl was eighteen years old and the daughter of a lady my mom was babysitting for during the day.

On a hot summer day Margo asked me did I want to see something and of course I said yes. So she took my hand and led me upstairs into an empty bedroom.

Margo was older than me and was a little worldlier than I was at that time. I eventually had some adolesent sex that day, with her showing me things with every move she made. I fleetingly wondered where this girl learned these things that she knew at such a tender age. She was aware of getting pregnant and made sure that I wouldn’t get her in that particular predicament.

She was a good friend and there were times that she would help me with some basic homework when I was in elementary school. Although I personally though that she was a little slow, she was sharp in some aspects of her life. She didn’t have many friends, so she was at our house on a regular basis. My mom liked her when she baby sat her and she liked her as a young adult.

Margo learned a lot of her cooking skills watching my mom preparing meals for us. She would follow my mom around being inquisitive asking all kinds of questions. She was actually a good cook and used me as a guinea pig feeding me most of her creations.

She also had an absolutely beautiful singing voice and would croon to me as long as I would let her do it. She knew all of the popular songs and could sing them sometimes better than the original artist. She would listen to a song over and over again until she had every note and nuance to that particular song.

She had won several talent contest in our area and I thought that she was gonna go professional and put out a few albums. She didn’t want all of that and simply just wanted to sing for the sheer fun of it. She was asked to sing at several weddings and was paid handsomely for it. She had even sung at a funeral and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house when she was done.

She had an older sister that took care of her after their mom passed that was semi jealous of Margo’s skills and accomplishments. She would try to sabotage Margo’s attempts to move forward. Fate would prevail and Margo would succeed in all of her endeavors. She