Brock 2
-A Novel Written by-
Shameek A. Speight
Copyright © 2015 by True Glory Publications
Published by True Glory Publications, LLC
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This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to actual events, real people, living or dead, organization, establishments, locales are products of the author’s imagination. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously.
Cover design/Graphics: Michael Horne
Editor: Kylar Bradshaw
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by an information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission from the publisher and writer. Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Dedications
I dedicate this book to my Fans! Thank you for your support and loving my twisted mind.
Acknowledgements
It has only been by the power of God, my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, that I have been able to persevere through many of the trials in my life. I thank him. Thank you to all my loyal fans that understand that my writing style is different than others. I step out of the box, a far cry from normal writing styles and understand a true writer paints a picture and gives you great detail in their work. Thank you all for the support and love. As long as you keep reading, I'll keep writing.
Brock 2
Written by:
Shameek A. Speight
Chapter 1
The dark skinned man with a long scar on his face inhaled deeply, smoking a cigarette filled with crack. The crack rushed through his system relaxing him, but making him hyper at the same time. Boosting his energy, he stood there dressed in all black with a black t-shirt, black jeans, and black leather Timb boots with a long leather black pea coat.
“Ugh, help me! Help me, please! Let me go!” a dark skinned woman said as she crawled towards him. She was completely coated in red and sticky blood to the touch as if someone just had been running a knife across her beautiful skin just for fun.
“Ha Ha!” He let out a sinister laugh while pulling out a six-inch knife that curved at the tip.
The woman grabbed the bottom of his legs.
“Please, no more. I swear, I will smoke it just don’t hurt me no more,” the woman cried out.
The man smirked, “Don’t worry bitch, I won’t hurt you no more,” he replied. He bent down and in one swift move he sliced her neck wide open. Blood gushed out as she grabbed her neck in hopes of stopping the blood from pouring out, but it did very little to stop the bleeding.
“HA HA HA HA HA!” A light skinned woman screeched that was in the corner of the dark room. Behind the man, there were four women strung out on crack and shaken up with fear. He turned around. “Do you see bitches? This is what you get, more pain than you can even imagine. I am the fucking Devil!” he said, “Now, when I tell you bitches to smoke, you shall do just that or else!” the dark skinned man with the scar on his face said. Sitting by his side, was a beautiful blue and gray Great Dane mixed with a Boxer breed. The dog was massive in size and had to weigh at least 450 pounds with huge paws. He was as tall as a youngster standing at about four feet tall. Around his neck was a black collar with a tag and name plate in which read ‘Brock’. The man with the scar on his face pet Brock on his head and turned his attention to the beautiful light skinned woman crying, hysterically and holding herself in the corner rocking back and forth.
“Please, don’t kill me!” she screamed.
The man replied, “Oh my dear, I have far worse plans of you dying. Brock gets…” The man with a scar on his face said.
“Wait NOOO!” the light skinned woman yelled. But it was too late. Brock took off running towards her, and then sunk his teeth deep inside her forearm. “AHAHHAHAHAHAHA!” she hollered in agonizing pain as the blood gushed out of her arm. “No stop, please!” the woman screamed while swinging her right hand, hitting Brock in the head, repeatedly. But it did little to stop Brock’s attack. Brock finally let loose of his grip. “AHAAAH!” the woman screamed and hopped up off of the floor and took off running. She only made it two steps before Brock leaped up in the air and landed on her back, using his body weight to knock her down. She hit the dirty, wooden floor chin first. “Aaah!” she groaned in pain and felt her head throbbing. She could feel Brock’s hot breath, breathing on the back of her neck and drooling down the back of her head. “AHAHAHA! Nooooo!” Tears streamed down her cheeks as Brock sunk his teeth in her shoulder blade and tugged her up, forcing her onto her hands and knees. Then release his grip and sunk his teeth in to her thigh, She screamed, “AHAHAHAA! What the fuck! Hell no! Fucking hell no! Help! Help!” she shouted while struggling to break free of Brock’s teeth. Brock tightened his grip with his ferocious bite as his teeth sunk deeper into her the flesh of her meat. The taste of her blood poured into his mouth and streamed down his snout, which only excited him even more.
“Hahaha,” Black Ice laughed, enjoying every minute of it. He starred at the light skinned woman, who looked as if she was only seconds away from passing out from the pain. Brock yank with all his might ripping her right leg off, sending a splatter of blood on to the walls . “Huh,” Black Ice said as the sound of all the windows in the house being broken at the same time. He looked down at the living room floor to see gray cans on the floor, and then dark smoke seeped out from the cans.
“Police! Police!” was all Black Ice heard as the front door was kicked in and police officers with gas masks on rushed inside with 16 inch riffles raised high. The four women coughed uncontrollably from the thick smoke that came out of the gas grenades. The whole house was covered in thick smoke, making it impossible for anyone to see even causing an issue for the police officers rushing in the house from the back of the house. “Told you this would be easy to shut down this crack stash house. Those are only rumors of a scarred man. There is no such thing as a Black Ice or people getting fed to hyenas. That shit will never happen.” One of the police officers said as he made the four naked women get on the ground. Then his head flew off his body with the gas mask still on.
“Oh Shit!! Fire! Fire!” One of the other police officers yelled.
Seven police officers that entered the living room opened up gun fire, sending a burst of ammunition gun fire all throughout the four bedroom house, ripping through the walls. Police officers had to dive to the ground to avoid getting hit by cross fire.
“Hahahahaha!” Black Ice’s laughter could be heard over the gun fire, sounding demonic, dark, and evil.
The police officers could feel it traveling up their spines like a spider crawling up your back and stopping at your ear. A tall brown skin police officer looked down and what he saw made him lose control of his bladder and peed on himself out of fear. The seven other officers turned around from where the laughter was coming from and saw nothing until one of officers looked up from the corner of his eye and he saw Black Ice. The officer trembled in fear. Black Ice’s legs were stretched out wide and the palms of his hands were pressed hard against the wall with his body perfectly angled tha
t had him on the ceiling like a spider in the corner. Before the police officer could raise his rifle to fire, Black Ice pulled his 44 revolver out of his holster and squeezed the trigger, sending a bullet slamming into the police officer’s head, splitting it wide open. Brain matter mixed with bone fragments and tissue matter were flying everywhere. His body dropped backwards on top of the screaming women.
“Open fire!!!” One of the police officers shouted as he squeezed the trigger while screaming, “AHAHAHAHAH!” The officers sent rapid gun fire in Black Ice’s direction and the other officer followed his lead. The thick gray smoke, which was still seeping out from the gas grenades, had consumed the whole house and made it impossible to see. The smoke was thick in the air causing the four women on the floor and the one in the corner, looking as if she was barely holding on to life, to cough uncontrollably. “Did he kill the bastard?” One of the cops asked still unable to see. They looked down on the ground to see Black Ice’s body not there. “What the fuck! I swear we shot him. Ugggh!” a tall police officer said. Then his throat was sliced wide opened before the other five officers could react. Their gas masks were pulled off their faces causing them to cover their mouths with their hands and coughing so hard; it felt as if they were coughing their lungs out as snot dripped down their noses and tears poured out the corner of their eyes.
“AHAHAHAHAHAH! HELP ME! Someone fucking, help me! Shoot him! Shoot him!” A slim build Caucasian police officer was able to see passed the watery tears in his eye and to see his partner being dragged by his legs down a hallway. “No!” he shouted as Black Ice continued to pull his partner into a bedroom.
After Black Ice got him in the bedroom, he began to remove the police officer clothes. Brock stood up on the floor looking at his master. “It has been fun, but I have to leave you now boy. But you will...you will survive. There’s no room for the weary in my world,” Black Ice said as he put on the gas mask and looked down at the dead police officer, whose arms and legs were cut off. He raised his machete and came down with all his might, chopping off the police officer’s head. “It is no fun when they bleed to death before I finish. There is nothing in the world like having a person scream, seeing the last moment of their life flash before their eyes,” Black Ice said, making sure the police officer was clearly dead. He scooped up his head up that was drenching in blood and stuffed it inside a black pillow case. He pulled out a small scary device from his pocket and pressed the red button, setting off an explosion all around the house. The sound of thunder clapping echoed through the air as the house exploded and caved in, crumbling completely down.
“Oh my God! We have people in there. Dig them out!” the sheriff shouted.
The fire department showed up in a matter of seconds, rushing in the house to put out the fire, and then begin to dig through the rubble of the house. “I found a survivor,” one of fire fighters shouted, pulling out a woman out. Both died before they could get them out and in the back of the ambulance.
“I found a dog!” yelled a police officer, “It is badly hurt.”
“Damn poor dog. He is a beauty too, a Great Dane. What should we do with him?” one of the police officers asked.
“We will drop him off at the animal shelter. What they do with him is their problem. Now, find the body of our suspect already, so I will know all of this mayhem wasn’t for nothing.”
“We found another body, sir,” a fire fighter shouted.
The police walked over to see a heavy set Caucasian man chopped to pieces. His arms and legs were a few feet away from him. “Where are his clothes?” the police officer asked, “Better yet, where is his head”
The ambulance pulled off, speeding down the block, passing the police blockage, and zoomed through traffic, and then it made a sudden stop.
“AHAHAHAH!” Gut raising screams could be heard coming from the ambulance as it rocked from side to side. The police officer was sitting in the driver seat of the ambulance and then removed the gas mask from his face and stared at this handsome chocolate face in the review mirror. He stared at the long scar that ran across his cheek. “Very soon….very soon, I will have my family together as one,” he mumbled to himself then pulled down the black sheet that was in the passenger’s seat and looked at the detached head. “Hahahahaha,” his laughter was dark and evil as he pulled off.
“We have one more. She is badly burnt. I don’t know if she’s going to make it,” a fire fighter shouted as him and three others dug her out.
She was a light skinned woman in her mid-30s. Her skin was badly burnt to the crisp. Her bones in her shoulder popped out in disgust. It was clear her shoulder blades were broken. She looked a mess. Her left leg was twisted backwards and broken in five places and her right leg was completely ripped off.
“Who did this to you? Give us a name,” a brown skinned police officer asked her, getting right up in her face.
As the EMT worker put the woman in a neck brace and an oxygen mask on her face, she said to the officer, “Officer, she is in no condition to answer any questions. Please give us room. We need to get her to the hospital ASAP. She is bleeding internally,” the bald headed EMT worker stated.
“Weird. She is mumbling something. I got to ask her questions, so I will know all the suspects involved in this madness,” the police officer replied as he lifted up her oxygen mask and leaned his ear closer to her lips. “Who did this to you? Who?” he asked.
She whispered a name then her body began to shake violently as she tried to talk, exhaling out her last breath before she died with her eyes opened.
“She is gone. It is a shame. We could not have saved her. Did she give you a name?” The EMT worker asked.
The police officer had a confused look on his face. “Yeah, but I am not sure if I heard her right. She mumbled the name Brock.”
Chapter 2
Bruce sat at his kitchen table eating bacon, grits, and eggs for breakfast. With each bite of bacon, he smiled and looked down to make sure not to waste any food on his white button up shirt and brown silk tie. He was a 5’11” tall with a medium build, and he was of a mixed race, half African-American and half Caucasian. Sitting across from him, was his eighteen year daughter, Chenille, texting away on her phone. Next to her was her sixteen year old sister, Leah, stuffing herself full of food. On Bruce’s right side of the table was his pride and joy, his twelve year old Paula. You could tell right away that she was adopted because she looked nothing like her two sisters or Bruce. Her skin complexion was the color of a smooth Hershey chocolate skin complexion. Paula put down the tablet she was playing with and scooted her chair closer to the table. A smile spread across her face showing her perfect set of white teeth.
Bruce looked up from the daily newspaper he was reading while eating and grabbed his coffee mug with the words written on it: WORLD BEST HUSBAND on it. He sniffed the air and could smell the French Vanilla coffee lingering in the air. He took a sip and the warm lava traveled through his body causing him to hum in pleasure. He turned his head and looked at his lovely wife, Penelope. He stared at her nicely shaped ass that set up just right, her slim waist line, and her long blonde hair. She had on a white dress that stopped thigh high. She had on an apron while she finished up cooking. ‘I really hit the jackpot. She is truly my trophy wife,’ Bruce thought to himself.
Penelope was thirty-seven years old but did not look like it because of all the money Bruce had invested in plastic surgery to make sure she stayed as beautiful as the woman on T.V. She resembled COCO, Ice T’s wife, the perfect trophy wife.
Bruce stood up after taking one more sip of his coffee. He stood tall in a custom Armani blue suit that fit him perfectly. He was stocky at 180 pounds with broad shoulders like a football player. You could tell he had African-American in him by his skin complexion and smooth skin. But he carried himself as an upscale business man that despised broke people and rap music. Bruce walked over to his wife and squeezed her juicy ass firmly, and then lightly tapped it.
“Bruce, baby st
op. The children are around,” Penelope said in a seductive tone. When she spoke, you could clearly hear her Russian accent.
“Oh please. That’s how they got here from a little squeeze here and lick here and there,” Bruce said, whispering in her ear and letting his tongue travel up the side of her neck.
“Sshhhh!” Penelope let out a soft moan as her pussy got wet.
“Ewww, y’all so nasty,” Leah said. The sound of her voice caused the two love birds to break their embrace.
“Yea, y’all should really get a room,” Chenille said while rolling her eyes.
“We have one. But every time we are in it, one of you guys knock on the door and refuse to go away until you have our undivided attention,” Bruce said as he broke his embrace from his wife.
“See. If you gave me more than a thousand dollars on allowances and reactivate all my credit cards, we wouldn’t have to,” Chenille said with an attitude.
“Well when you learn money don’t grow on trees and learn how to pay attention in class, we may. Maybe, just maybe then you will have some of your privileges back. You’re lucky you still have your phone, young lady,” Bruce stretches.
“Ugh, whatever!” Chenille said while sucking her teeth and rolling her eyes in the back of her head.
Bruce stared at her; he wanted to say something. The more he looked at her the less he could see himself in her. All his children were a caramel skinned complexion with freckles on their faces and a shade or two lighter than him with dark green eyes. You could tell they were all his children, even his oldest, Bruce Jr. He had a different mother, who looked just like him, but not Chenille. Her skin color was the color of a bar of Dove soap and her hair was dyed platinum blonde. Her eyes were a light blue hue. Everything about her screamed Penelope and no characteristics of him at all. It bothered him a great deal. “I am going to work,” Bruce said while grabbing his blue blazer jacket.
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