Name the Genre: Short story – Day 04 of Contest

Okay Ladies and Gents,

I put something together for fun. I am just trying little things out. This is a little short story. Remember it is not edited. I just wrote it this morning. Excuse the bad grammar, etc.

All you all need to do is read and see if you can figure out the genre. Here we goooo!

NAME THE GENRE

Copyright © 2012 by Serenity King

Unedited: Adult language

Keisha was in the kitchen mixing cucumbers and tomatoes in tossed salad. Her sister Sade and mom had gone to the grocery store to pick up some last-minute items. The Phillips family never did anything in moderation. At 23, Keisha was the oldest of six. Hell, her parents weren’t that much older than she was. What was supposed to have been a simple cookout for the immediate family had turned into a full-out barbecue for most of the neighborhood kids and a few of her cousins.

“If it was too hot to cook dinner inside, why the hell was the stove on?”

Her dad was just supposed to be cooking a few hamburgers, hot dogs, and sausages. Somehow they’d ended up with chicken, ribs, steak, and baked macaroni and cheese, all in the oven on warm.

Keisha finished with the salad and put it in the fridge alongside the potato salad, macaroni salad, and Kool-Aid. Shaking her head she could only smile at the outrageousness of it all. She closed the refrigerator door, and then turned to go outside to join her brothers and cousins in a game of basketball out front. Keisha was halfway through the house when she heard a loud commotion, and the raised voices outside. She recognized one as that of her father. No doubt the others were of her siblings.

“Uh oh,” she groaned. “Something was about to go down.” Keisha raced outside to see what was going on.

Outside her sister Rochelle and cousin Tanisha, were arguing with a girl/woman who was about three times bigger than they were, her brothers, Kion and Terrence were going back-and-forth with some dudes that were on motorcycles. One of the dudes, Boogie, Keisha knew was the brother of, Tina, the girl who was up in her sister’s face, and her father was yelling for the younger kids to get inside. That wasn’t happening.

Keisha ran off the porch and towards her sister and cousin.

“What the hell are you doing up in these kids face like that Tina?” She shouted, stepping in front of her sister and cousin to face Tina.

“Bitch, I’ll step to whoever I want to and it a’int a damn thing you can do about it,” Tina yelled, lifting her hand as if to put her finger in Keisha’s face.

Keisha reacted instantly. Standing flat footed—legs slightly apart for balance, she bawled up her fist and delivered three succinct punches to Tina’s face before the girl could blink—Tina hit the ground hard.

Tina’s father—a big man with more brawn than brains, came running out of his house from next door, and straight towards Keisha. Suddenly she was pushed so hard out-of-the-way that she stumbled.

The only thing she saw was her dad’s big-assed fist as it landed in dude’s face. Dude staggered back as if in a daze—but didn’t fall. He came charging at her father again. Her father didn’t move. He stood stock-still in a boxing stance and waited. An uppercut, a punch in the gut, and another blow upside that head, and Tina’s father was out for the count.

Stupid ass, Keisha thought as she looked over at Tina’s father on the ground. Kion Phillips, Sr., wasn’t a particularly large man—standing at about five-feet eleven inches, 180 pounds, mostly muscle. He’d been a street boxer for years. Street boxing had been his hustle.

“Oh hell,” she moaned. There was an all-out brawl going on in the Phillips’ yard.

The sound of police sirens  in a distance her whipping her head around in the direction of the sirens. Her mother and sister pulling up in front of the house—cops right behind them. Before the car had come to a complete stop, her mother was out of the passenger’s side of the car with a bottle in her hand. No doubt ready to start swinging.

Juanita Phillips was no joke. A quiet woman until you messed with her children. Mess with any one of her children and you best believe it was war. As evidenced by the bottle in her hand. Her mother lifted her arm to bring the bottle down on some big assed dude’s head. Evidently her mother hadn’t seen the police cars behind her, or she just didn’t care. Her mother’s arm went up and so did the handcuffs that were slapped on her wrist—arm still in the air. The Officer used her cuffed arm to bring it down behind her where he cuffed her other wrist and place her in the backseat of the patrol car.

“Daddy,” she yelled. “They got momma.” Keisha watched her father racing across the yard towards her mother. There were police cruisers and wagons everywhere.

The Phillips simple barbecue resulted in a trip to the police station, and several arrest being made.

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Serenity King is a USA Today bestselling author of interracial, multicultural contemporary romance who has been reading romance novels since her auntie placed a Harlequin in her hands at the age of sixteen. She is fiercely devoted to her characters and has a strong passion for Alpha males. Her males are Alpha family-oriented men who Live, Love, and Fight for their women. Serenity lives in the New York area with her husband and children, and she always loves to hear from her readers. Please e-mail her at serenitykinginc@gmail.com or write her at, Serenity King, Inc., P.O. Box 20457, Huntington Station, New York 11746. Serenity King

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2 comments on “Name the Genre: Short story – Day 04 of Contest
  1. ec2005hr says:

    OK SERENITY,

    I may be off but i think DRAMA there was so much going on in that pssage that i couldn’t keep up and had to reread it over just like a good T.V. DRAMA where you need to absorb to enjoy the story

    • serenitykingsblog says:

      You are correct. I was going for Urban Drama, lol. To keep it interesting I want to do a little something from across the board.

      Thanks for posting. You have been entered into the final drawing.

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