Inner City
Originally published on March 19, 2006
The sky was a dull blue without stars or a moon. Streetlights flickered on as the bloody sun fell below the dark and weary skyscrapers reaching up towards the clouds for redemption. She pressed her gloved hands against the fogged up window as the taxi driver casually rode through the streets. A tall man with rustled black hair stood at the edge of an alley. He wore a long black coat with his hands in his pockets and a cigarette hanging nonchalantly out of the corner of his mouth. People huddled between doorways of closed shops and behind restaurants. These people needed help and they had been calling for it for years. She watched a pair of street performers with rosy cheeks; the girl looked no older than thirteen and her partner was maybe two or three years older. She was in a pair of baggy black pants and a white tank top with a hat that matched his tan suit combo perfectly. He looked like he came straight off the set of Guys and Dolls as an extra gangster whose clothes were a little big. They had a jar in front of their dance space that had a dollar bill with a couple coins on the bottom. She had the feeling that they were doing it for the sake of dancing as a couple now, since the money would never be enough to balance out their effort. As she went farther into the heart of the city, it started to snow small meager flakes whispering in and out and melting as soon as they landed. A small boy on a bicycle rode in and out of the moving crowd and stopped at the candy shop. He stood there staring in the window, one foot on the pedal, one leg straight and keeping balance as the traffic light turned green and she drove away. Finally, her destination arrived in sight: city hall. The building was strikingly neat compared to everything around it, further confirming her beliefs that the government did nothing but sit and sign papers. She got out and walked up the steps with a dignified air clutching her briefcase and purse close to her side. She opened the large doors and stepped inside. The lobby was a large open space with marble floors and a skylight far above on the ceiling. Lights around the skylight were turned on to make the illusion of daylight streaming in. A spiral staircase was in the center of the room leading to five floors that skirted the edge of the room. Her heels clicked against the floor as she passed several offices and walked up the stairs to the third floor. The door she arrived at had a plaque reading “Conference room” in curly letters. She took a deep breath and walked in.
The conference room’s walls were white, but the seats had red velvet and the tables were cherry wood. She was the only one in the room. She glanced at her watched nervously to make sure she was on time. Confident that being there at 6:45 for a 7:00 meeting was acceptable enough, she sat down at a chair near the center of the room that was apart from the rest of the press area. She patiently sat for the fifteen minutes as people sprinkled in, going over her speech in her head. At 7:00, a short balding man stood on the podium before the council and cleared his throat.
“This meeting was adjourned tonight to allow a very special woman to come to speak to us. She was requested by several anonymous members of the council to bring up the issues of the inner city. She has been studying public speaking in the prestigious Athenian Academy in South City, where she is currently seeking her PhD. At the Women’s Festival for five consecutive years, she has spoken on women’s issues at the beginning of the festival. I present to you, ladies and gentlemen, Sarah Carson.”
Sarah shook the man’s hand heartily and set her notes down on the podium as the council applauded her politely. She glanced at her audience, calculating every expression, before she took a deep breath and started.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Council of Inner City Affairs, I do not believe I’m going to tell you something that none of you have heard before. But, I am going to tell you something that you refuse to listen to.
“I decided to take a tour around Inner City three days before I was requested to speak. It was a Thursday night. Unrenowned to me, and probably to you, Thursday nights are drug days. While this is common in many cities, what still haunts me now, and even more so now that I am here, are the children. Alexander was his name and he told me he was eight. He walked up to a drug dealer and gave the woman a wad of cash and she gave him a packet of heroine, patted him on the head, and sent him on his way. The boy had no idea the crime of what he was doing and gladly told me who he buys, what he knew as candy, from. He also said he had been eating it for two years and steals money from Sandler’s Shoe Shop to pay for it. Children should not be allowed to buy heroine. Children should not be allowed to steal. And children should not be addicted at the age of eight.
“If this isn’t enough, I’ll tell you about Megan. She’s sixteen and been in prostitution for five years. Tania tried getting a job but because people have told her she was too stupid to work, has been a prostitute for a while. Melanie never knew any other life but one of a prostitute. Upon interviewing other people on the street, the people who are considered rich are the prostitutes. There are no men, crudely known as pimps, because the women do their own businesses to receive maximum profit. People who live by City Hall have told me that the rich also include politicians, but the people on the edge of town, have no idea who you are.
“I need not remind any people here of the common crimes that seem to be abundant here: robberies, murders, rape, arson. It has gotten so bad that I saw an eleven-year-old boy walk him and his six-year-old sister to the laundry mat with a pistol. I’m not even sure if he knew how to use it. For twenty dollars you can buy two-dozen grenades on the black market. All you have to do is walk three storefronts down to the grocery store.
“These are extreme examples, but I assure you if you look outside and take a good look at this city, you will see the poverty, the hopelessness, the fear in every person’s face. And you here, have the power to change it. I sincerely thank every one in the council for listening and especially to the people who have enough sense in the future of their city to request me.”
People started to clap but Sarah put her hand up and leaned forward into the microphone.
“Before I leave I would like to mention a little girl. She was brutally murdered in a college dorm after she was raped by all of the roommates living there. The press was pushed out of the way, the police where never given and chance and the whole story was hushed up. That little girl was my sister, Martha. My father sold her to my cousins for money for health care for my mother, and that’s what my cousin did to her: killed her. That’s when we left home for Summerset. I’d like to say I have no personal feelings for Inner City, but I can’t lie. I’ve hated this place all my life and no one will be happier than myself to see a change.”
Sarah nodded her head and stepped down swallowing tears. She looked out the window into the cloudy sky and saw a single star. She smiled. Her sister was congratulating her.
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