Sky Dreams

By Sye Money Fortune

As cold harsh realities, rule the inner city with madness. A young girl named Paris is suddenly orphaned by the death of her grandmother. As Paris struggles to survive on her own, she makes a foolish decision to become a high- end shoplifter. Leading her to be arrested and locked up behind juvenile bars. Nonetheless, as Paris life seems hopeless, she is adopted into Alpha Air- Philly’s own- Young, Black, Billionaire’s club by a Diva named Chiffon. Will Paris be able to accept the young, glamorous, billionaire, lifestyle with ease? Or will her unruly ways force her back to the deadly, diseased, crime infested, streets of Philadelphia.
“We all have to make a choice in life……….Will it be the road of glory……….Or the path of hell?”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796038002

Sye Money Fortune

Saeedah Marshieka, was born in Philadelphia, Pa.,and attended Frankford high school. Her early years were lived in, and around the Delaware valley, and solidified in a posh, suburban neighborhood. There she learned lies, secrets and deception, all would play a major role. In her family’s dethroning from prestige and wealth, and into a hard ghetto, substandard, lifestyle. The lack of a strong father’s presence, and a well- structured environment. Resulted in and early unexpected pregnancy for her and overwhelming spiritual battles for her family. However, because of her previous, upperclass lifestyle and her African ancestral lineage. Saeedah was able to develop a strong, natural, urban culture, that implemented in her survival, and nourished her freedom of self expression. Thru various forms such as writing rap songs, fashion designing, studying African ancestry and origin, or just conjuring up a story in her mind. She was evolving her love for life, and her respect of the infinite roles, the arts play in one’s culture and life. For that is the way to man’s boundless future. Furthermore, this same passion has led her to write various new intriguing stories that will enchant and entice the warmest hearts and the most curious minds .

Book preview

Sky Dreams

Sye Money Fortune

Copyright © 2019 by Sye Money Fortune.

ISBN:   Softcover   978-1-4257-8135-4

             eBook        978-1-7960-3800-2

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 05/31/2019

Xlibris

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Contents

Wake up

In Loving Memory

Chapter 1 - Attack

Chapter 2 - Revolution

Chapter 3 - Roommates

Chapter 4 - Let the Games begin

Chapter 5 - Who’s King?

Chapter 6 - Secrets’

Chapter 7 - Questionable

Chapter 8 - Confident and Sure

Chapter 9 - New Beginnings

Chapter 10 - Grand Opening

Chapter 11 - Miami Fiesta

Chapter 12 - The New Ruling King

Chapter 13 - Belonging is it and Inferior or Superior Emotion

Chapter 14 - Pledging is Extremely Beneficial

Chapter 15 - Out of Sight Out of mind

Chapter 16 - Fairy Godmother’s aren’t Perfect and Real Mother’s make mistakes too

Chapter 17 - Trouble is Containable Death is Unexplainable

Chapter 18 - Was it all worth it?

Chapter 19 - Hope= Faith =Real Dreams

Wake up

How long, will we as a people, sleep while we watch our dreams become someone else’s?

How long, will we stand a side; and be observers, when we truly are creators’.

How long, will we stay mentally enslaved, while our ancestors turn and grumble in their graves?

How long, will we allow grief and turmoil; keep us from ascending to the promise land.

How long, will we tolerate our Youths, to be slaughtered like young helpless lambs?

How long, will we stand a side and just look?

How long, will we let our brother’s and sister’s rot in prison, when we have an army of qualified lawyers’ that could pledge allegiance against a corrupt and unjust system?

Just, How, long, will, how, Long, last?

I’m going tell you How to Destroy a Man and his country in 5 simple steps

First, you take away his God.

Then, you take away his Faith.

Next, you take away his Wife and his Children and then you Annihilate the family Union.

Lastly, don’t forget to Obliterate his Culture this is where he can find Himself and his God.

Perform, these five things Well and you’ll not only own his soul; but his children’s soul’s and his children’s, children’s souls as well.

In Loving Memory

To all of the Slain one’s who lost their lives, because of vicious, relentless, growling, slobbering, ignorance, that has spell bounded and hell hounded all of us cross the world.

To our Ancient Ancestors, who feared God Almighty with all their hearts and souls; whom were the chosen ones to survive the Great Flood; only to lose all that was great and glorious; in the name of their egos? We have thank you thou, because you were the one’s who truly almost achieved perfection. You have left legacies’ that still to this day are unmatched- and you’ve been proven scientifically and historically to have founded all the sciences. Starting with worshiping the true God of all gods, grammar, mapping of the planets, star formations, masonry, medicines, metallurgy, surgeries, mathematics, alchemy, farming, music, and etc.

Therefore, we the global people who exist all over the world especially have to thank you for all the phenomenal, technological, civilizations you’ve founded. Resulting in a 360-degree circle effect- that every-day, modern human beings, now reap the benefits.

The Africans that have spread all over the world especially want to thank you, because you have left undeniable proof of black greatness, images carved in gargantuan stone monuments, gold inscriptions, ancient written books, and icon kingdoms. All tell of a time not long ago, when Black people were not only Kings and Queens in the Mother Land but of all the lands. Remember when we were happy, when life was a dream. There lays the key, there is the supreme.

Furthermore, to all the Buffalo Soldiers who came and gone and come back again. Keep fighting with and unwavering faith.

Moreover, in loving memory to all the African-American Scientists that have remarkable- documented - cutting edge achievements that have been purposely left out in the past, present and future. You, Nonetheless, have left astounding inventions and patents for Americans and the world to enjoy.

Last, but not least, in special memory, to the brave and heroic people who lost their lives in slavery and fighting against slavery? The Human race will wake up. For what was in the beginning, surely, will be at the end.

Chapter 1

Attack

January 26, 2007, around 2:30 a.m. a much needed letter of repentance. Began flowing freely, from a young woman’s heart to her beloved and adored Grandmother. It was a simply written- artistic expression of self-help, therapy. Paris knew not what she was doing, but it just had to be done. Grandma I miss you so much. I wish you were still here. I thought I had everything under control but I now see life is frustrating and disappointing. I should’ve paid close attention and listened to you when you repeatedly explained the values of being an honest and hardworking person. I’m also very angry and I hate the smell of this place. Suddenly, Paris is jolted and instantly stops writing when she hears the faint sounds of keys jingling, in the long, dark, musty, old hallway, outside her room. Although Paris was hesitant to resume her writing [she resumed] and no sooner than the first strokes of the pen glided across the paper- she was once again disturbed and stiffened by the frightening; rattling keys getting closer. Paris quickly tucked her diary under her mattress and grabbed a white, sweat- sock, full of rocks from under her pillow. She then pulled the covers over her head and clutched the small flashlight in her hands as if it were a holy cross. Paris tried pretending to be asleep as she listened to creepy voices whispering in the hall. What in the world is going on, Paris thought to herself? Her heart was now pounding fast and her temperature had risen to hot blazing oven. Paris could hear someone adjusting the growling keys as the monstrous door crept opened into her dark room. As soon as the door opened, two ferocious savages pounced on Paris like she was a fresh young lamb- waiting to be slaughtered by two hungry wild wolves. Her panties violently began ripping down her legs, burning her soft gentle skin. We got her ass now; they laughed as they sexually assaulted her. Paris pajamas were now soaked with terrifying sweat and the realization of someone violating her private space, body and wellbeing made her heart and soul weak. Paris agonized in pain, as the slimy, wet, sizzling, burning tongue slid down her belly. Instantaneously, Paris’s mind drifted into old flash backs of when her grandma would say to her, Remember to protect your cookie. I won’t be with you always, so protect your goods, they’re priceless. At that very moment Paris got a burst of energy and managed to free her hands. She began hitting one of her attackers in the head with the sweat sock, full of rocks. Paris’s brave actions maddened and excited her accosters even more. They grabbed Paris off the bed and threw her to the floor with the force of a lawless cop’s rage. Bitch you think your hot stuff, they yelled as they kicked and beat her in the face. Paris methodically snatched her baseball bat from under the bed and hit one of the attackers in the head; knocking them out cold. She then remembered that there was an alarm in the room and with a strong and unwavering faith. Paris prayed for the Lord’s help and just as she was saying the very last, word, at the end, of the very last, sentence. Paris was given the natural ability of a large, wild cat; she leaped forward, jumped over the motionless body lying on the floor and successfully pulled the alarm. Red bulbs started flashing all over the facility as the alarm rang with intense chaos and havoc in the air. All the girls and counselors started scarcely running out of their rooms. Everyone was confused to what was going on. Soon it was noticed that door 2118 was not opening. Everyone ran to the room to find out why. The guards began pulling and yelling Open the door, Open the door. As the smell of blood and sweat, seeped thru the cracks of the door with a foul, bad stench. Get a crowbar, so we can pry the door open, yelled one of the guards. Finally, the door was forced opened and there was Mrs. Warden sitting on top of Paris, choking her. Paris body, was seemingly limp while the blueness in her face describe death was near. Mrs. Warden the Executive director of the Philadelphia Girls Detention Center and Ms. Smith the assistant director were quickly tackled to the ground and restrained." Paris started gasping for air, but her windpipes had been so severely damaged. She found her self suffocating, breathless and slowly becoming unconscious.

Chapter 2

Revolution

Groggy and disoriented Paris awoke to and unfamiliar surrounding and asked the nurse adjusting the heart monitor, in a raspy voice.

Where am I?

Try to lay still, the doctor will be in soon to evaluate you.

How long have I been here, why can’t I seem to move?

Please don’t try to move yet, you’ve been strapped down to minimize your movement.

Who are you?

I’m nurse Jenkins and I’ve been attending to you miss, Holiday, for a month now.

A month, I’ve been laying here for a month?

Yes, a month ago you slipped into a coma, after your ordeal and now you’ve awakened.

I have so many questions I want to ask?

Just try an rest awhile, the doctor will be in momentarily.

Tears began running out of Paris’s Mesopotamia brown eyes and down her Caribbean dark brown, golden cheeks. Paris’s long, black, straight hair, helped to soak up some of her sorrow while the overflow dripped onto the crisp white sheets. The sun beamed thru hospitals room window with magic for the warmth of the sun’s power was all Paris had. Paris couldn’t grasp the fact that life could really be so cruel and disappointing. Why didn’t I just die? She thought to herself, death would have been so much easier; living is so stressful and complicated. Being dead seems peaceful and carefree. Paris’s hospital room door opened and a black man with shiny black skin walked in. He was balding in the middle of his head, stood about 5’5 and spoke with and West African accent.

Hello I’m doctor Ruben and I’ve been treating you for sometime now. Paris you had us worried a few times.

What, do you mean?

You stop breathing several times. Almost like you wanted to give up on life. However, someone or something wanted you to live. Because, successfully you were revived each time with a little help.

I’m sore and I can’t move.

You’ve had a lot of trauma to your head and throat and extensive damaged all over your body. However, you’ll start to feel better in 48 hours you’re young. We’ll talk in depth later, because I need to know what happened to you and who is responsible for you being in the intensive care unit. Meanwhile, Paris, would you like some nutritional solids?

What?

Food my dear.

Yes, please, a cheeseburger, fries and coke.

Ok, I’ll have it sent up to you soon as possible and after you’re finished eating try in get some more rest. The Social and Human affairs specialists will be coming by to check on you later. Nurse, make sure she gets 10 milligrams of morphine for pain and 500 milligrams of water intravenously, so she doesn’t become dehydrated. After Paris had eaten her food, she fell into a deep sleep and began dreaming of her Grandmother in the kitchen baking homemade chocolate chip cookies. As Paris neared the kitchens door frame. Her grandmother raised her head and smiled at her. Paris tried entering the kitchen’s doorway but the door slammed shut. Instantaneously, Paris was in pitch-blackness, sandwiched in between Mrs. Warden and her evil sidekick. Their faces were cruel, hard and threatening as they circled around Paris shouting and making intimidating threats. Paris began screaming, Just kill me, over and over again. Her heart and brain monitors, started recording her rapid unconscious activity. The recordings were so intense; they automatically sent emergency signals to the nurse’s station. Nurse Jenkins, quickly slammed, her corn beef and rye sandwich down, and ran to Paris’s room. Paris, wake up, wake up nurse Jenkins repeated. Paris awoke from the dream sweating, crying and horrified. Here’s some cold water, drink it! Whatever you were dreaming about sent your body into an uproar. Paris just gave the nurse a look of relief and despair all in one. Nurse Jenkins went into the bathroom and bought out a cool towel to place on Paris’s forehead head. "I’m going to make some calls Paris, I’ll be right back, don’t worry everything will be fine. Paris laid absolutely still, helplessly looking up at the ceiling wondering what was to come of her life. So far it seemed, that being born was a mistake and living was the punishment. How could she ever get any of her hope and dreams back and whom could she trust? For it had seemed that everyone she tried to trust let her down immensely. Nurse Jenkins stopped a volunteer and told her to page Dr. Ruben now.

I’m getting files for Dr. Carl.

I don’t care what your doing or who your doing it for. I want Dr. Ruben on line one, stat. Quickly after, Dr. Ruben returned the page.

"Nurse Jenkins, its doctor Ruben on line 1, said the volunteer.

Hello, doctor, this is nurse, Jenkins I’m calling about your patient, Paris Holiday. The young lady that just awoke out of her coma.

She didn’t slip back into it, I hope!

No, nothing like that doctor, I’m just deeply concerned about her well being. I know the counselors are coming to see her and I want to make sure that whatever happened to her, doesn’t happen again. We need the patient to feel comfortable enough to tell us what really happened to her and who’s responsible for her being in the ICU.

I see your concern nurse. I’ll call the counselors and see what approach we can come up with.

3:30 p.m. in the afternoon there was a knock on Paris’s hospital room door and then two women walked in. Hello, I’m Doctor Yancy, I’m a child psychologist, and this my co-worker, Counselor Freeman a life coach specialist. Doctor Yancy was a small round, Asian, short woman with and untrusting vibe, and counselor Freeman, was a medium built, African American woman with dread locks in her hair and a serious looking face. I’m assuming you know why we’re here, doctor Yancy said. Paris nodded yes with an unconcerned, uncaring look. Let me give you the details in plain English, said doctor Yancy. We’re here to ensure you heal properly by refocusing your mind and teaching you vital life skill techniques that will help you to overcome past, present and future obstacles.

That’s what they all say, Paris mumbled under her breath.

Pardon me, doctor Yancy said to Paris.

Let me try to relate with her, said counselor Freeman. Paris I know you’ve had a hard time lately and you’re orphaned now. You were taking good care of yourself for a longtime.

And I was doing just fine, Paris rudely interrupted, until some haten people, stop me, talkin bout, they were going to help me. Now look, I almost lost my life over some thoughtful persons help. Paris steered coldly and anatomically out the hospital window. Wishing counselor Freeman and Dr. Yancy would both shut up and disappear.

"I was very much like you are now, orphaned at a young age too. I was really scared, lonely and needed to be cared for. Furthermore, I had no one to love me and it was truly devastating to my heart. I hated everybody and everyone was my enemy. I cursed God, because I