Ghosts Next Door

Ghosts Next Door
by Lopaka Kapanui

May 8, 2022

Parking Lot 2022

He's on the Young Street side of the parking lot, not trying to run away but waiting for me to catch up.

He's not making a move, and neither am I. So it's a stand-off to see who will play outside the box. Then, without a cloud in the night sky, it begins to rain heavily, and the drops of water pelt the ground until it becomes a deluge. Not a drop of water touches him or me. I begin to pray for the rain to calm itself until finally, it abates into dark ethers from where it started. "Why that family?" I ask him.

"No reason," He deadpanned. "I just felt like it."

At this point in my life, I had no patience for games or immature insolence. I don't like long speeches or explanations of who, what, where, why, and how. I didn't care if someone's father didn't love them or their mother was stifling and overbearing. I didn't care, and I didn't want to hear it. So I removed the handgun from my coat pocket and shot him in the heart. His body took a nice thud to the pavement, and I walked off toward south king and took Cedar street until I got to Elm, where my car was parked. This is the third case this month; it's almost as if we suddenly have a cell of Hawaiian curse terrorists casting curses at random. I've got my work cut out for me. be continued                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

       Credit: Civil Beat                                                                                                        

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