I’ve been posting excerpts of this on Wattpad, but I figured I’d jump back into Saturday Scenes. Maybe post on both sites.

I wrote this story around ten years ago. My intention was to write Gangsta Science Fiction. I workshopped this story to death, and in the end, all of the conflicting advice made me drop it and work on COAL.

Worlds Apart is what happens when you binge watch Friday, Boys in the Hood, Menace to Society and follow those movies with Star Trek, Star Wars, ET and Encounters of the Third Kind. This is the intersection where Black and Nerdy meet. Welcome to the Blerd Zone.

For his entire life, Duane felt like he was being watched. When he wakes up on a different planet trapped in the mind of an alien, he learns he was right. But on this planet, he is the one doing the watching. Duane refuses to sit back and watch. He will get his life back even if it means stealing somebody else’s body.

Akasha is from Paleon. Her job is to travels to earth and witness human life through a person’s subconscious. But when her lover is lost on earth, Akasha will throw away her job, her life, and with the help of Duane, she will kill, to get her lover back.


Chapter One



“Come on, Duane,” Tonisha begged.  “It’s for some rich Arabs that are willing to pay any price that I tell them as long as they get some real American drugs.”  Tonisha stood five foot nine inches, she was maybe thirty years old and she had specially-bought 42 D-cups.  She looked like a model and she probably had been back in the day, but for now, the only gig she had was managing the front desk of a Marriott.

“If you ain’t got the money, then there ain’t shit I can do for you or your Arabs,” I said.

What can I do for you?”  She stepped a closer to me, giving me a good view of her large, caramel colored chest that was barely concealed by the burgundy Marriott polo t-shirt.  Her dull golden name was in the middle of her beast where Duane imagined her nipple to be.

“The last time I exchanged dope for pussy, I caught crabs.  No thanks.”

“Man, you ain’t no fun.” Tonisha put her away her heavy artillery, and lowered her chest.  “How ’bout I ask them to meet us here with the money?”

“Man…” I said, drawing the word out while I thought. The fact is, I needed the money. Between the police harassing every brotha on a street corner, the Dare to stay off drugs kids, the cliental dying off, and the increased competition I wasn’t making enough to pay for the apartment I shared with my mom.  “How you know they ain’t narcs?”

“I know a narc when I see one.  The same way I know a user when I see one.”

Tonisha had been one of my first customers when I branched out on my own.  I had never been caught, and as far as I knew neither had she.  I saw nothing but the same desperation to make some money in her eyes that I had, except I was a lot better at hiding.  There wasn’t many clients I trusted, but her I did. She had two kids and a nice job. She did this only for little extra like Gucci bags and expensive shoes. She didn’t want trouble and neither did I.

I told Tonisha to bring her Arabs to Tom’s Auto Works on Lexington and Crenshaw at eleven o’clock.  I grew up down the street from the shop and at that time of night the small auto store would be empty.  In the back of the shop was a wooded area that was used as an illegal dump.  If her Arab friends turned out to be cops, I knew I could run into the back and lose them. Unless they brought helicopters, and I made sure I didn’t make enough ripples in the drug game to be important enough for helicopters.

At eleven-o-five, two hours after I arrived, a red 1967 Chevy Malibu pulled up in front of the shop. and Tonisha stepped out of the back seat and the car lit up just long enough for me to see two brown skinned men looking straight ahead.

“Duane,” she whispered walking towards me.  Her high heels smacked on the gravel driveway like someone scraping their nails against a chalkboard.

I stepped out of the shadow of the entranceway.  “Those your tricks?”

“Yeah,” Tonisha nodded, still whispering.  “You got the stuff?” She had changed out of her work uniform, and she wore a red dress that clinched at her small waist to make her tits look that much bigger.  I preferred women with real tits, but I could tell she’d just gotten out of the shower and she smelled of vanilla. I almost changed my mind about the sex, but I thought of my rent. “Give me the money and I’ll give ‘em the product.”

I gripped the bag of white powder, preparing to hand it over when the front passenger side window rolled down and a red beam of light traveled from the car to the center of my forehead.

Instinctively, I ran, turning so fast I almost slipped on the gravel. My dad taught me that If I’m ever running from a brother with a gun, never run straight. Bullets travel straight. I veered to the right just as a bullet flew past my head lodging itself in a tree few feet away. I ran faster. The moment my foot touched grass, I fell to the ground.  I didn’t even feel the bullet. Just one moment I was up and the next I was facedown with the taste of blood and gravel in my mouth.  I couldn’t move all I could do was blink. As I tried to force my body to move, Tonisha’s bare feet ran past me.  Her red heels were lying in front of my face.

That bitch set me up.

The car door opened and footsteps approached.  As I fought with my body, willing my hands to reach for the gun in I hid in the holster of my shirt. But the only thing I could do was move a finger. It wasn’t even a move really.  It twitched. The approaching footsteps were slowed and confident, as if he had all the time in the world.  I wanted to turn over and face the son of a bitch but my body refused to listen. I concentrated hard.  The footsteps stopped and then he used his foot to turn me onto my back.

He wore a facemask but I still saw his dark, empty eyes and his smiling face. He had a large gap between his two front teeth.  He held a black, expensive gun I’d never seen before.

“Fuck you,” I mumbled. Thankful I could speak.

The red beam from his gun moved towards my head once again. “Sleep peacefully,” he said before he squeezed the trigger.



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