Dark Pool of Blood Central City Los Angeles 1985 School had just let out that afternoon at John Adams Jr. High. I was happy the day was over but dreading having to go pick up my Tenor Saxophone in the Band Room and lugging that heavy thing home with me to practice. Fortunately I wasnt alone in this , my hommies Omar and Jose suffered the same fate as I. As we walked out the front gates of the school onto Broadway heading north towards Washington Blvd. that day we heard a loud POP! We thought nothing of it at first until we saw a bunch of kids running toward the back of the P.E. field, behind the factory that was there at the time on the South West corner of 27th. and Main. Our heavy instrument cases slowed us down a little but when we got to the corner there was a small crowed of kids and some factory workers who had come out to the scene. We walked up to the crowd and looked down at the sidewalk and this is what we saw. Lying on the floor on his back was a young man, a teenager, older than us but still very young. He wasnt wearing a shirt. He was wearing a dark brown , neatly creased pair of Dickies pants with a black canvas belt sporting a silver buckle with and old English letter R on the front. He was wearing a black and white pair of Chuck Taylor Converse sneakers. He had dark slicked back hair and on his face a look of sheer terror. He had his mouth open, his eyes grotesquely wide open staring up into the sky in horror and fear, looking at something no one els could see. He seemed to be gasping for air, like he couldnt breath. On his belly just underneath his rib cage was a perfectly round small hole, with just a few drops of blood running from it, The crowd was getting bigger. You could hear the ladies who had come out of the surrounding factories saying Dios mio! Dios guarde. Some of the kids were giggling and pointing at the entrance wound. All the while the young man on the ground was twitching, and gasping, his arms spread out on either side. At some point he stopped moving, he stopped breathing he became perfectly still and quiet. Underneath him a pool of dark blood started to form, getting larger and larger every moment. So much so that the crowed had to step back to keep from stepping into the pool of blood. A strange odor reached my nose, like metal, or rusty iron, I knew it was coming from the dark pool of blood at my feet. There was so much blood that it started to spill of the sidewalk and onto the street. But what struck me the most, the image I cant forget even decades later, was the look on the young mans face. Eyes wide open staring up into the sky, mouth agape, unable to let out the scream of fear he must have felt before he died. It seemed like an eternity. I looked around for signs of an ambulance, a police car...nothing. Minutes passed, still no ambulance, no police. The crowed had grown larger, some school administrators had come to the scene by then, trying to get kids to move on unsuccessfully. In the crowed some ladies were crying, making the sign of the cross. quien es el muchacho?! y la cruz roja? Por que no,llega! hes dead, hes dead!! Still no sign of police or paramedics. Omar , Jose and myself eventually continued on our journey home. Lost in our thoughts we were all quiet. Making small talk once in a while, and laughing nervously. We all learned something that day. Life was cheap in this neighborhood. We were not a priority. Our lives were expendable, and death was always just a step away at all times. Being a young male in that neighborhood at that time carried the heavy burden of sudden violent death. It wasnt the first dead body we had seen and it wouldnt be the last. This is not a horror story . This really happened. Some of you who are Adams Alumni might remember this event. I will never forget it. Only one of a million stories from that time and place we all shared.
Posted on: Wed, 19 Mar 2014 13:22:13 +0000
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