Call for Votes: STACH Anonymous Writing Contest #6.

stach (70)in #contest • 7 years ago (edited)

Hello Steemians.

Entry submission for the STACH Anonymous Writing Contest #6 has closed and we have a selection of 4 articles and now we need your votes to select the best 3 to share in the prize pool of 20SBD.
Below are the selected stories and we need you to vote based on their contents, story line, delivery and word counts.

Type in the comment section with your choice, i.e "Story 9" or "Story 0" or "Story 11" or "Story 14".

Story 1.
KING OF THE GHETTO
Baala as he was popularly called, was a thug.He was fierce looking with different tatoos (drawings of tigers, snakes and a skull crossed with two bones).
He never associated with anyone in the neighbourhood except his gangs members, alcohol and cigarette which all feared he could burn his house down with, some day.
Meanwhile, Baala has a heart of gold. But who would know it when all in the neighbourhood were scared of him?Even women feared he could rape.
To say the truth, he was very kind, especially to his “gangsmen”.
His friend, ‘Shadow' had been disowned by his Parents for a reckless and immoral life he leads. Baala whom his gang view as ‘Lord’ harboured him in his rat home.
But then, it happened that one day, ‘Shadow' was caught in armed robbery with his own men. ‘Shadow’ loves Baala so much and thought he can’t handle this without him. So, when the authorities asked Shadow to mention his members who had escaped, the first name he mentioned was Baala. This time Baala was innocent.
Who would deny for him? He had been stone-hearted and unfriendly towards all except his gang. At worse he finds solace in alcohol and cigarettes.
After two weeks in detention, the Village Chief decided to interfere but too late. On the morning the Chief was making calls ( probably for his release), there it was on air that the popular Baala, King of the Ghetto had been killed.

Story 2.
Lil' Son never got to see the bullet, just heard the shot. By the time he heard the shot, he had already dropped on the floor, all 95 kilograms of him. He struggled and got up on one knee but it took all his strength and will to do that.
He watched the blood flow but that did not worry him because he had bled before. He recalled the last time he was shot by Dr. Chokes gang just three years ago. Five shots and he still made it out alive. No, this would not be the end of him, he decided.
He looked around to see if there was someone in the direction from where the bullet came. There was nothing. He waited, still crouched on one knee. He waited. A rustle of leaves, a shifting shadow, and he squeezed the trigger. Someone fell from behind the tree. There you go, he thought. I wasn't called King of the Ghetto for no reason.
Then he felt the wetness on his chest and a sudden emptiness in his head. He looked and saw blood pumping from his chest. As he fell to the ground once again, the last thought on his mind was that this little boy had beaten him.

Story 3.
33-year-old Tamiko had never known comfort but the last 6 months in prison has been hell.
He had demanded his rights and been laughed at. Finally, a trial. He was worried about the trial's possible outcome because his enemies were rich and powerful.
Tamiko's only crime was poverty. Where he came from, that was the fastest way to being named a criminal. He had grown up on the streets and at the age of twenty, rented his first shelter; an abandoned one-room apartment with limply hanging ceilings in the slums of Makwaita.
It had quickly become home to him and eventually, his wife and daughter.
"They call you their hero, right? I'll see that you get a befitting reward as the king of the ghetto that you are," one of the big men visited to tell him.
Finally, through his neighbours, a philanthropist took interest in helping him. They were the reason he was there having spoken on their behalf and started a rebellion that defied instructions to vacate their homes to a corporation that wanted to demolish it and build a park. He wondered what had become of them since his incarceration.
Hope had rejuvenated when the lawyer had visited him from a new NGO, taking his case as their first. Finally he knew he had not been forgotten. They arrived the courthouse. It was time for his fate to be decided by a law that never played fair. He hoped to God for some luck. He needed it.

Story 4.
It was my first time in Lagos and I couldn’t wait to let the street know I had arrived; a terror from the south who needed to hijack a territory. The Police was on our trail in Bayelsa, so Pere, Ejiro and I had to leave the south for the sake of our lives and my family especially. We did not want trouble; we only needed a territory of our own. A small place to rule, but the small boys here proved stubborn so we had to strike. We almost had them, we almost did, but obviously, we were outnumbered. I lost my friend, Pere and my brother, Ejiro. Only if they knew whose tail they had stepped on! I knew I would get revenge, and I gave them more than they could handle. It took me three days to bring down the villains of Pere and Ejiro. I told them I would be back but they made fun of me! I never bargained for all that happened, nor the fight and the destabilized peace in the street neither did I believe that my name had flown so wide; all the way from the South to the west. And just as I suspected, the police knew my location. News had flown and they knew of the happenings in the community. Surely, that can be done by just a person, the demigod. Yes, it is I, Nengi, THE KING OF THE GHETTO and I am ready to move to the East.