Bealz, Prince Of The SouthSide

32 Askauri had left the building. But not before luxuriating in the steam of a shower that he appreciated in the manner only a recently freed prisoner could ever understand, though. Freshly groomed and properly attired, he had a moment to consider the plot against his family. Things had obviously been long set in motion. A well-executed plan, operating without notice right under the noses of the entirety of the House of Askai. Someone, somewhere within the vast, yet admittedly labyrinthine Royal Courts or the Administrative State Services should have known of such a far-reaching plot, should have been able to ferret it out. Something of this extent, something as far-reaching as an assassination attempt on the King, could not have happened without some detail showing itself. Askauri, through his contacts outside of the strict formalities of the system, though, knew of an unofficial source or two that owed him a favor. The tainted, disreputable type, speci

31 Not far from where their conversation begins, some five hundred feet beneath the streets of Decatur, something very old and very powerful begins to stir. A long-defunct train depot, recently refurbished, added to the historical register and reopened as a motley collection of flea markets and second hand shops, rattles and shakes with the sudden movement. The still serviceable train tracks which run alongside the depot, built atop a centuries old, decommissioned coal mine, buckle from the tremors. Deep down below, a monster shifts in the darkness. It had been many years since she had been roused from her lethargy. Many years since she had sensed a meal worthy of her attentions. In truth, the Great Beast had no reason to feed, as satiated as she was. It would be many more years, perhaps decades before it would need to do so again. Its fortunes had changed greatly since that time, long ago, before the town above had even bore a name. The Great Beast, a

30 Jo-Mel finally manages to break through to Monique as they wander closer and closer to the heart of the inner city. The distant sound of approaching sirens helping to rouse her. They quickly get off of the streets, ducking down into the underground labyrinth utilized by the unwanted, the unseen souls that inhabit most places such as this. With the abundance of abandoned and neglected properties scattered throughout Decatur's poverty stricken neighborhoods, it was easy enough to find shelter. Finally able to speak freely, Jo-Mel demands, “What is happening, here, Monique Felani? I have no intention of engaging with these people. It would not end well for any of us.” “I don't know,” Monique replies. “Something here, this place, something drew me here. Can't you feel it?” “No. Nothing like what you speak of, but there is an evil here. This is your Earth, though, America, no doubt. The shitani thrive,” she says. “But when last we m

29 Right after Askauri manages to snatch up his son and escape, folding them both over into the Incata, Big Mook gets slowly to his feet, prompted along by a stream of insults from Dakari. The big, shambling parody of a man accepts the hateful words from the little spider demon because such was his lot. He had been snared in the Wilds of the Incata, where he was, in fact, a rare creature of magic, his form as big as the skies. But he had been brought low by ruthless men who chained and fed on his essence, trapped it within this thin shell on this dull world to do their bidding. His mind though roamed far and wide and he barely perceived of what was happening in the moment, lost as he was to dreams of freedom. But these ruthless men were also very powerful and had compelled him to answer and obey their beck and call. Men such as Dakari. As Mook continues to be berated and assaulted with fists and feet and vicious words and curses, however, Mook hears th

28 Bealz stood in the lobby of what to him seemed like a giant, jeweled egg. He looked around in wonder, his mouth agape at the opulence, the fine people and the beautiful atmosphere. Never in his wildest imaginings could he have ever envisioned himself amid such luxury. Less than twenty minutes away from where he had lain his head all his life, the lands surrounding the Angstrom Residential Towers and Hotel in Chicago had been much less real to him than anything he could have ever dreamed up in the Incata. “Close your mouth, son.” Feeling as though all of the eyes in the large room suddenly turn to look disapprovingly on his ragged shoes, his unkempt clothes and hair, Bealz has nowhere to hide and instantly burns with shame. “C'mon man,” he says, falling back on the practiced defenses of a wounded and embarrassed black boy. “What the fuck you bring us here fo'?” “Stop cursing, son. I brought us here because we belong here,” Askauri says

27 At the end of America's Civil War, with the passage of the Emancipation Proclamation, one of the largest and swiftest mass migrations in human history was to begin. Former slaves, newly freed from the dark despair of the South, began to move across the continent in droves, seeding all areas of the North in pursuit of their own particular, uniquely American dream. The routes established by these migrants lead them through many small towns known to offer safe harbor in passage, strung all along the way to the promised lands of Chicago respectability, a Detroit factory's job stability or New York gold. Many, though, would fall by the wayside, stranded by limited resources, broken axles, dreams and hearts. They would go on to quietly integrate into these small Northern towns, these Cairo's, Decatur's, Danville's and Kankakee's, creating ethnic enclaves in formerly pristine, all-white areas along the pipelines through which they traveled.

26 The Queen Mother was living in a sort of self-imposed exile. A strange sort of exile, though, holed up as she was within her suite of chambers inside the Grand Palace, the Royals' family home far outside of Chakiti Enzi, the Capital city of the Long Plains Kingdom. She spent most of her days there in darkness, with the drapes drawn and the lights turned low. Malikia Azari, the duly appointed Queen's Regent, and currently the most powerful and influential person in the Incata, was in mourning. Her eldest son, the once future King, was dead, while her youngest, the wayward Prince, and currently the rightful heir, had been held captive and powerless in foreign lands; where his shame was complete. And now her kingdom was in jeopardy, the very fabric of the land, many of the major Elementals, the very glue which magically held the Incata in place, under attack and dying. Meanwhile, there were enemies veritably at the gates, aided, no dou

On the way to a Friday night viewing of the Black Panther I allowed my 12-year old son to select the radio station. I'm most positive that some variation of this has happened thousands of times over the course of the last few weeks, and I do understand how tragically 20 th century this is, with the dearth of internet streaming options readily available. However, I prefer to listen to his music in this way. The current brand of hip hop is much more palliative for me in its watered down, “radio friendly” format. Here it is important for me to note that, at least for my sake, it is not simply a question of quality. Of what is or is not considered to be culturally significant. I listened to shitty music as a youngster also. I believe we all probably have. It's nearly a right of passage and years on, there remains the occasional breakthrough piece of garbage that has still managed to occupy space on our playlists. Much of this nostalgic recollection won'