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| - Published in StoryStar 2012 Ryan Hall was incarcerated for possession of cocaine and cocaine paraphernalia outside a night club one windy Friday night. Young Hall was taken into custody and processed through the system; finally he had his court appearance… “Yo what you in fo’ white boy?” “Possession, what you in for?” “Possession with intent to sell.” Ryan rocked back and forth while scratching his arm. “Hey when we go to court? I need to get outta here.” “I don’t know but you’ll probably go to court before me. They just gonna give you time served and put you on papers. All you did was get caught with some dope.” “Well they need to hurry up because I need to get the hell out of here.” “Damn white boy, you really need to get high bad, don’t you?” “Shut up dude, mind your damned business.” Ryan snapped back at the larger prisoner, he was suffering from false courage as a side effect of jonesing for his drug of choice. “Hey white boy, I know you jonesin’ and shit but you better watch ‘yo mouth homeboy.” Ryan slumped back down on his spot on the bench feeling defeated. “Sorry dude.” “It’s cool man, you gonna be out soon.” Finally Ryan and a group of other low risk criminals incarcerated on petty crimes were led into court in their orange jumpsuits. There wasn’t much security in the form of bailiffs in the courtroom when they entered. Ryan was first in line and he decided that there was no time for him to see the judge, he was going to go now. Ryan streaked through the courtroom, jumped over the defense table, burst through the courtroom doors and dashed to freedom. He exited the courthouse and headed straight to a spot where he knew that he could score. Meanwhile his picture and the story was run on all of the local news stations during their midday reports. The news was shown in the jailhouse and Ryan’s new large friend was watching his escape on TV. “Yo Peanut, look man, that’s my white boy. Damn, he was just in here and now he on the news runnin’ an shit.” Ryan made it to his destination, a crack house. He found it tough trying to score because of his attire. Ryan was forced out by the dealers and the other junkies in the house. They had to literally push him out of the backdoor of the house that sat on concrete bricks. Ryan fell off the back porch into the field behind the house and next to a man. “Watch out a--hole.” Ryan shoved the man but he didn’t respond. then he looked into the man’s worn face; his eyes were wide open. Ryan became disgusted at the thought of being so close to a fresh dead body, it was still warm. His disgust was instantly stamped out by his desperation when he spotted a stem in the man’s hand. Apparently the man sat down in the tall grass behind the crack house and took a big hit. He had a heart attack and died alone in the field. He was dead but his dope was alive and barely smoked; Ryan pried the stem from the man’s dead hands and snatched the lighter from the grass. He took a long hit and instantly went into a world of ecstasy. Ryan sat back down in the grass next to the body and rested his arm on the dead man’s upper torso. He looked up into the clouds in a daze; all of his cares were gone. He took a second hit and suddenly he heard a lot of commotion inside the house. His heart beat fast as he tried to rise from the grass, eyes now wide as saucers. He never made it to his feet before he was tackled by three officers and quickly subdued. Ryan didn’t yell or struggle, he felt good. Police discovered the body and initially charged Ryan with murder but dropped the charges after the medical examiner determined the cause of death. Ryan was going to court on a misdemeanor and was only minutes away from his release. Now he had a felony escape charge and another drug possession charge, so he'll do several years in prison. Ryan needed a taste to numb his face so he ran a crazy race. After getting the blast sending his mind to outer space, the sprinter slowed his pace, now he’s locked in that place all because of him buckin’ & boltin’ for base.
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