The fires didn’t bother me. I thought they were pretty at night. Then, I would remember that a body or bodies were burning, that another family was gone. Bullets sounded like thunder in the distance. They made me think of the one caught in the hailstorm, another life gone. Tires screeched like angry sirens, taking out another poor soul. The housing development across the street had promised a new beginning for families, hopes and dreams. Now, it was nothing more than a mass grave, where bodies were dumped every day, surrounded by the hollow existence of empty homes.

Located on Highway 4, the Go Raspberry rested across the street from the housing development now turned mass grave. Once you could smell nothing in here but sweet baked goods and cooking meat like hot dogs along with pretzels that softly rota...

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