Ashtin Rose

Creative Writing Sample

It was Monday. Isaiah threw his legs off the side of the bed and sat up, hands gripping the edge

of the mattress while he sat trying to find the will to shower. The long week was ahead, and he

knew, with dread, what it was going to consist of.

He shut off the water and stepped onto the towel that lay on the tile right outside of the sliding

glass shower door. Drops of water slid down his spine as he toweled his hair, letting his black

curls air dry. He faced himself in the mirror, hands placed on the sink as he leaned over the

faucet. His dark eyes became immediately evident as he wiped the steam from the glass. An

audible sigh left his pursed mouth as his cheeks rounded, full of air.

It wasn’t school that churned his stomach. He liked school; he did all he could to keep his 4.0

GPA intact. He had an especially prominent knack for chemistry, and he usually stayed after to

tutor the students that struggled. He knew he was gifted with intelligence, and wanted more than

anything to continue on to college and make a life for himself. But if the boys knew about

Isaiah’s plans to head to college and move out of Detroit, they’d kill him. He knew that, too.

“Breakfast on the table, baby,” Isaiah’s mother stated as he walked down the stairs.

Shanice was a broader woman, although, she wasn’t the slightest bit out of shape. She worked

her dreaded hair into a bun on the top of her head as Isaiah made his way toward the kitchen. She

worked as a patrol officer in the city, and alongside taking care of her three children, she kept

busy. Isaiah was her eldest, rounding eighteen in a few months.

Isaiah grabbed a piece of bacon while he kissed Shanice on the cheek. “I gotta get to school,

Mama. I love you.”

He stepped onto the porch, shutting the door behind him. “We got a situation.” He heard as he

twisted his key in the lock, back toward the street. Isaiah’s stomach immediately sank, and he

could feel the acid immediately react negatively to the familiar voice.

“Let’s deal later bro,” Isaiah said pleadingly as he turned to face Jaylen, who stood at the bottom

of the porch steps. His black silk durag gleamed in the sun while he stood leaned against the

railing, one leg propped up to hold his weight. His hands fiddled with a blade, which wasn’t a

surprise to Isaiah. He had seen Jaylen pull that locking knife on multiple people, including him.

“What you mean ‘later’? I bust mine to keep you a part of this gang, man. They woulda gutted

you by now if it ain’t been for me. We meeting at eleven. Rogue park.” Jaylen was an inch from

Isaiah’s face by the end of his sentence. His arm waved, knife still in hand, as he swung it back

down toward his side, backing up and walking toward his blacked-out Lincoln Continental,

which was parked directly across the street.

Isaiah hurried to school, as he did most days, walking with a rushed step in order to keep out of

any trouble. He reached Miss Carlton’s classroom five minutes prior to the first bell.

“Isaiah, good morning. How are those college applications coming?” Miss Carlton pushed the

middle of her glasses up to sit on the bridge of her nose as she looked up from her desk. She was

a small woman, young and petite. Her skin was like porcelain, and she usually kept her long ruby

locks tied in a low bun at the base of her head. She was from Washington state, and upon her

arrival to Detroit, she was an immediate mentor for Isaiah. He had a feeling that she knew more

about his home life than he wanted her to, but she never mentioned anything about it. She only
tried her hardest to get him to attend a University outside of the city, and he appreciated her

pushing him to try. He felt as if she was one of his only supporters, and it was

“I don’t know, Miss C. I got a lot to stay back in Detroit for, you know. Gotta look out for my

mama and all.”

Isaiah knew what he had to do to in order to pursue his opportunity and go to college. If he tried

to leave the group he’d be dead, leaving nobody to care for his mother and siblings.

“Isaiah, you and I both know you’ll thrive at Yale. You’re already in. This is the best opportunity

you could ever receive. And with your scholarships-”

“I don’t know, Miss C. I wanna do it, I do. I just gotta figure some things out first.”

It was 10:55. Isaiah was always early. Especially when it came down to his meetings with

Jaylen. The last thing he needed was to get into trouble with the gang.

He finally showed at 11:15. Jaylen handed Isaiah a mask, slipping one over his head and face in

the process. Their black clothes sank into the night, becoming unrecognizable figures as they

walked toward the house that sat on the corner across from the park. The windows along the

porch were boarded, vulgarity lining the wooden panels in a dark red spray paint. The house was

dimly lit, there was only a few lights that illuminated from the inside. The yard was scattered

with half-smoked cigarettes and crushed beer cans. They shuffled through the littered and

yellowed grass as they made it toward the back-side of the house.

The boys shuffled alongside the back of the house, avoiding the siding that peeled its way off the

outside walls as they worked their way underneath the bedroom window. The light illuminated

from the room, giving them an advantage in knowing he was home and where they could find

him. Isaiah hoisted Jaylen up by cupping his hands and cradling one foot while the other reached
and stepped next to his ear, the cradles one immediately following. He held Jaylen on top of his

shoulders, one foot posed quietly on each. Isaiah’s pocket vibrated against his leg, phone ringing.

He let it go to voicemail. Jaylen gripped the edge of the window pane with his left hand, and

slowly slid the glass up as far open and as quietly as he could with his right.

The kid kept quiet, Jaylen holding a knife against his throat as he held his arms hostage with the

opposite forearm. The deal took less than two minutes in total, Jaylen kept the kid quiet while

Isaiah rummaged through the bedroom. The mattress lay on the floor, lacking a sheet to cover the

blue silk thread that created the padding. All that Isaiah noticed was the girl that sat on the bed,

holding a sheet against her body, keeping what little privacy that could be restored within the

room. He grabbed the money and shoved it into a small black bag that he concealed beneath his

hoodie. The two of them backtracked, out through the window and down the side of the house,

landing on the dried grass and bolting through the darkened neighborhood.

Isaiah directed his phone toward his right ear, immediately following the removal of his mask.

He stood outside his front door, listening to the new voicemail as he jiggled the key into the lock

and twisted.

“Isaiah, baby, where you at? They’re out looking for you. What did you do? Please come home.”

The ache in his stomach grew stronger upon hearing his mother’s voice on the other end of the

phone.

He stepped into the dimly lit living room and pulled the door closed, locking it out of habit, then

picking his pace up as he saw his mother on the couch. She sat, knees huddled up toward her

chest as she wiped the tears that ran down her cheek with the palms of her hands. Her grey sweat

pants were soaked as if she had been crying into her knees for hours.

“Mama,” Isaiah crouched by the side of the couch, swiveling onto his knees.
“Where have you been, Isaiah? The cops was here asking for you,” she muttered through rough

sobs.

“Mama, don’t be upset. I’ll take care of it,” he rested his head on her leg. He could feel the heat

rising within his face, he knew he was in trouble this time.

Isaiah woke with a start as they pounded on his bedroom door.

“Police,” a stern voice called out as the door swung inward, revealing three officers posed

outside Isaiah’s room and in the dark hallway. He sat straight up, and fumbled with the sheets as

he worked his back to press up against the wall. He pulled his knees into his bare chest, the sheet

causing stress for his legs and their rushed movements.

“Isaiah Jones. You’re under arrest for three counts of aggravated assault and one count of

aggravated robbery. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held

against you in a court of law,” the officer’s words trailed off as he realized his fate. He should’ve

known better, he thought. He knew this was going to happen, all he was doing was waiting for

the day that his arrest would come. Isaiah sat and stared ahead, eyes glazing over as his body

limped into the officer that was handcuffing him. Tears quietly streaming his cheeks.

The lady officer stood behind the camera. The room was a pale white, Isaiah felt as if he were in

a hospital room, only his case was worse. The coldness of the fluorescent lighting sent a chill

down his spine.

“Turn to the left,” the woman ordered. He turned, facing the wall on his left side. He gulped with

each demand the officer stated. A flash brightened the cold room, and Isaiah realized how bad he

had jeopardized his own future. There was no way around his own crimes at this point, he had
been arrested. His name was dirtied. He wondered exactly how he would be able to keep his

scholarships.

“I never expected to have to bail you outta that place, Isaiah. I thought you was so much better

than this,” Shanice’s words filled with tears as she drove Isaiah home the next day.

“I know, mama. I’m sorry,” the pit in his stomach was only growing, the last thing he ever

wanted to do was disappoint his mother.

“I know your potential, you know your own potential. You can’t stay here. I know you need to

go and make a life for yourself, baby. You don’t need to stay here and stay gettin’ in all this

trouble just to keep an eye out for me. I got it,”

Isaiah knew Shanice was right. She was always right. Not only did he realize his need to go to

college for himself at this point, now he had all the more reason to create a life, to make his

mother proud.

A week passed. Isaiah had been ignoring every invitation given out by Jaylen. He hadn’t left the

house, trying to lay as low as he possibly could. He knew that he’d eventually have to break the

news to the members, and he recognized the need to do so sooner rather than later. It was

midday, Isaiah draped an oversized hoodie on over his bare chest, and pulled the hood on,

covering his ears. He didn’t have a weapon, but knew it’d be pointless to bring one anyway. He

stepped onto the porch and shut the door behind him, locking it as usual, and turned to head

toward Jaylen’s house.

The sun was beating down on the front steps. Jaylen opened the door, only slightly, in order to

peep out and see who was interrupting his act of hiding from the police. He recognized Isaiah

under the dark hood and widened the door. He was wearing a white wife-beater, the brightness of
his shirt illuminating under the sun. The bandana wrapped around his head held a joint, and

Isaiah noticed the wrapped drug as Jaylen peered around his back, untrusting of whether Isaiah

had been followed.

“I’m alone,” Isaiah spoke up.

“Bout time you finally show your face around here, dog,” Jaylen moved to the side and gestured

for Isaiah to step in.

Isaiah hesitatingly stepped in, left foot in front of his right, holding his chin toward the floor. The

smell of marijuana and beer could have knocked him out cold, and he tried to breathe through his

mouth rather than letting the scent fill his nostrils.

“Listen, Jaylen I need to talk to you, man,” he began, wanting to get it over with as quickly as he

could.

“Look who finally decided to make an appearance,” a voice called from the couch that sat in the

middle of the darkened living room. Isaiah couldn’t quite make out a face through the cloud of

weed smoke that filled the air, but he pinned the voice on Josiah, another member of the gang.

“What’s your problem bro?” Jaylen snickered.

“Can we talk outside?” Isaiah pleaded.

“I guess. C’mon dog, we goin’ out,” Jaylen turned and yelled over his shoulder at Josiah. Josiah

stood and thudded his way over to the front door, where Isaiah and Jaylen were standing. He was

a broad guy, Isaiah felt the sweat slide down the base of his neck as he watched Josiah stomp his

way toward him.

Jaylen ushered their way into the alley that lined the side of his house. Isaiah’s throat began to

close as he felt the stress of the situation close in on them. He had made his decision, he chose
Yale. He knew what had to be done, and as he thought about how he was going to mutter the fact

that he needed out of the gang, he was accepting his own death.

“Look, guys, I need out,” he stated, bluntly.

Jaylen was leaned up against the brick that lined each side of the alley. The shade cooling the air

as the tension grew stronger.

“What you mean ‘out’?” He pressed off the wall and took a step toward Isaiah, his shoulders

broadening. He reached into his pocket with his left hand, and Isaiah knew that he was already

gripped around that knife.

“I’m leavin’. I’m moving dog. I can’t do this no more.”

Josiah looked at Jaylen, their eyes met. In an instance, both of them knew what had to happen.

“Listen, you know I done a lot to keep you a part of this group, man. But if you want out, you

know what has to go down. You watched Quince die, man. You stupid enough to do this

yourself?” Jaylen inched his way toward Isaiah, backing him into the opposing brick wall. Josiah

stood watch, and closed in alongside Jaylen.

“Kill me, I don’t care. Long as I know I did what I needed to,” Isaiah opened his arms wide and

moved his chin up toward the sky – his eyes closing in acceptance.

The first few blows hit him hard, and he felt the contact of his skull crack against the pavement

as they continued. The bones in his chest snapped with each kick to the ribs. After a while each

hit began to run together, and a feeling of numbness spread throughout Isaiah’s chest, out toward

his limbs, climbing to his head very last. He cried as they beat him. The minutes of abuse felt

like years, and Isaiah silently whispered prayers as the two men took their time on him. Isaiah

recognized a new pain in his abdomen, a sharp, gut-wrenching feeling overcame him and his
body swiveled in to clutch the area of impact. Jaylen pulled the knife back and gave a look to

Josiah, and Isaiah only saw black.

It was graduation day. Connecticut was new. But had more in store for Isaiah, and finishing his

degree meant more to him than anything back in Detroit. The day Isaiah woke up in the hospital

was something that he’d never forget.

“Isaiah. Hi, I’m your nurse, Chantelle. You’re in Detroit General Hospital, you’ve been through

some trauma but you’re going to be okay.” A woman in bright green scrubs said softly as she

leaned over Isaiah as he opened his eyes to her clear skin and thick black braids.

“Who brought me here?”

“I’m not quite sure your relation to her. She’s in the waiting room, would like to see her?”

Isaiah nodded in approval immediately, wondering who would’ve found him and saved his life

after Jaylen and Josiah had attacked him.

Isaiah’s eyes widened in surprise as he watched a woman with pale skin illuminate the doorway

of his hospital room. Her glasses sat softly on the bridge of her nose, and a small smile

effortlessly grew, lighting up her face with ease.

“Isaiah, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Miss C? How did you find me?”

She stepped closer to the bed, her long hair fell softly around her face and over her shoulders as

she clutched a sweater tightly to her body. “I live next door to Jaylen King, I don’t know him all

that well, but I’ve seen you come by a few times and I’ve been worried about why you’d be

involved with those guys. I heard something in the alley between our townhomes, watched
everything happen from my window. I called the police and luckily the ambulance got to you in

time.”

His memory sparked the thought of Miss C. and that moment often, but most prominently as he

walked across the stage and shook hands with the Dean of Yale University. He beamed as he

peered into the crowd that filled the chairs lined in support of the graduating class, his mother

stood with pride as tears created rivers at the base of her chin. Shanice moved out east during

Isaiah’s sophomore year. She applauded delightfully at the sight of Isaiah and his

accomplishments. He had all he needed, constantly knowing that he was blessed to live through

that day.