I think I had been up for four days when I robbed the second gas station. But it could have been five days or even six. I don’t know. Days run together when they’re not separated by sleep.
Armed robbery was a new low, even for me, but then so was crack cocaine. In the six months following my first hit from a crack pipe, I’d lost everything — my car, my job, my girl, my family. I couldn’t stand the weak thing I had become and by then, I was ready to die.
My plan was simple: rob and get high until the police got behind me, then blow my brains out. Although cocaine is not classified as a hallucinogen, sleep deprivation most definitely is. And as I was exiting that gas station, I was seeing and hearing all sorts of things — police search lights, sirens, footsteps, voices…
I hopped into a stolen car and sped away, zigzagging my way through neighborhood streets and charting a course for the nearest dope hole. As I pulled out on to the main thoroughfare, two things happened that would change my life forever:
1) My headlights stopped working
2) a cop was driving by.
I checked the rearview to see if he was going to turn around. Of course he was. It was 3 a.m. and I was driving with no headlights in an area where a robbery had just occurred. When he turned on his siren, I stomped on the gas and yanked hard on the steering wheel…
…and drove straight into a brick mailbox. I bailed out of the car and ran through someone’s yard, tires screeching behind me. Desperate to escape, I sprinted toward the field abutting the backyard but never saw the fence. It was one of those waist-high, rusty barbed wire things and it flipped me upside down. I felt the gun fall from the pocket of my hoodie into the tall grass below. I quickly freed myself, then frantically groped for it in the dark. I couldn’t lose the gun. I needed it to off myself when there was nowhere left to run. But I heard squawking radios and jingling keys approaching, I had to go.
Branches and thorns slapped my face as I tore through the field. I tripped, lost a shoe, tripped again and finally rolled into a gully and pulled the brush over myself to hide. An hour passed. Helicopters flew overhead, far off voices shouted, car engines roared. Then the low growl and panting breath of a dog drew close. I could hear it a few feet away, tracking me. Suddenly, the massive head of a German Shepherd poked through the brush. I threw my arm up to keep him from biting my face; he seized my wrist and began ripping flesh from bone. I was quickly surrounded by police and pummeled with flashlights and boots.
But something strange happened in that field. Maybe it was just the dope or the sleep deprivation. Maybe I was in shock, but for a moment, I was hovering above my body, looking down at the scene below. This pitiful crackhead that was me — emaciated, dirty, bloody — being mauled and stomped and finally handcuffed.
If I’d had that gun while I lay there in the bushes with the police closing in, I would have killed myself. There would be no Consider the Dragonfly, no With Arms Unbound, and you definitely wouldn’t be reading this blog post right now. I’d be just a forgotten news story from the last decade, a dead crackhead in a field. Forgotten, except to my mom and she would have found a way to blame herself.
Instead, it is my belief that something bigger intervened and that has made all the difference. If Malcolm Ivey has a birthday, it is March 22, 2005, the night I dropped the gun.
Malcolm Ivey is a Writer, Novelist and Author of Consider the Dragonfly and With Arms Unbound
Reblogged this on HumansinShadow.wordpress.com.
LikeLike
What a miracle!
LikeLike
Reblogged this on HumansinShadow.wordpress.com.
LikeLike
Thank you for sharing this amazing story. So often we need to reach the lowest point in order to find out that there is more waiting above we just went into the wrong direction.
LikeLike
Powerful story, thank you for sharing.Happy birthday, we are glad that you are here.
LikeLike
Reblogged this on gitaunjogu and commented:
Masterfull Storytelling..
LikeLike
All I can say is, “Wow!” Thank God for grace!
LikeLike
Reblogged this on faiththerapy and commented:
Amazing Story
LikeLike
cool
love laugh live ā¤
LikeLike
I started crunching up my face. Then, the tears formed. Now I’m doing the ugly cry and my heart is hurting in a really awesome way.
Your story was so well written and so engaging…and then the twist came — I was certain this story was made up. But I knew it wasn’t…
If I don’t step away from the computer to get a coffee – RIGHT NOW – I’m gonna be a blubbering idiot here…
Well done. God bless you (Oh, ya – He already did!).
LikeLiked by 2 people
Wow. Welcome home Malcome! Press on – awesome post!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on wvpaul's Blog.
LikeLike
You are a walking miracle. You had to go where you went — to get to where you are today. There are
no accidents in life. You can inspire, teach, and show your light to all through your writing. I love every book and
waiting to read the others that are coming soon.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for your writings….thank you for keeping it real and reminding me where I came from. They help keep me going and fuel me. Paul has told me a lot about you. I look forward to reading your blogs.
LikeLike
Reblogged this on Up & Out.
LikeLike
Reblogged this on Kindness Blog.
LikeLike