Terror Firsthand #13: Surviving Heartless Predators and Bad Weather

©Terror Firsthand is a fictional short story blog series that was created in 2024. It is for entertainment purposes only, and I wrote it from the top of my head. Please, do not try any thing dangerous at home. 

Warning: extreme terror

Terror Firsthand: Surviving Heartless Predators and Bad Weather 

After I hit the gross f*ggot in the head with the bottle, I hopped on a bus and crossed the border to the United States to California. I didn't have any health insurance in Mexico, and I needed more antiretroviral medication to stop the transvestites that kept raping me against my will from infecting me with HIV. I was hoping they didn't have herpes or anything else. 

Unfortunately, I caught Chlamydia and Gonorrhea also known as "the clap" and was given several pills to get rid of it. I also caught Trichomoniasis, which was very nasty. It took a long time for the STD to go away. I was one step away from catching "the monkey". This was the first time that Emanuela and Ghana Bwoy infected me with a disease. That part actually happened in real life. I wrote a story about it called The Life Story of Oya Obinidodo. 

Now I was back in the states, with no where to go. I was extremely scared of Tracia Pueblos. She was a racist monster and predator, just like everyone else. Tracia had cameras in every single room of LPC, and was watching me very closely. When I was a kid, she used to beat me. One day, when I was younger, I called the police after she beat me with a belt, and the police laughed at me and said,

"We'll never lock up your mother. We don't care what she does to you. This is her house and if you don't like it then just carry your little ignorant, black, dusty, retarded ass somewhere else. She doesn't owe you anything. I hope she beats your little ungrateful retarded ass until you're lifeless!" I never, ever, called the police for anything ever again after that. I became sickened with fear from that day forward. After the police treated me that way, on that same day, I tried to call my "dad", but he was dead, and didn't leave me anything. I drove to his gravesite and spray painted the words "F*ck you!" all over the head stone, then urinated on it and drove away, never to return again. I tried to sue the police in court, but the judge laughed at me too. 

Anyway, fast forward to now. I contemplated s*icide for a day or two, but I didn't want to leave Big C behind. I didn't know where to hide, and I'm pretty sure Emanuela would find me again, and maybe m*rder me next time. I left California right after the ER visit and then went to Missouri. I set up a tent near St. Louis and hid in it for several weeks. No one showed up. 

One day, a tornado warning came to my phone. The message read:

Tornado warning in effect for St. Louis and all of Missouri until tomorrow night. Please take cover immediately. 

I didn't want my tent to get swept away, so I called the human trafficking hotline.

"Hello, this is the human trafficking hotline, how can I help you?" Asked the operator.

"Yes I'm stuck in a tornado with my emotional support animal and I'm a victim of human trafficking. Can you help?" I asked.

"Yes, when was the last time you were trafficked?" Asked the operator.

"About a month or two ago at a hotel called The Blue Roof Motel." I replied.

"One moment. Is it okay if I place you on a brief hold?" Said the operator, while placing me on hold before I could even answer the question. I waited on hold for about 5 minutes.

"Here are a list of numbers you can call." Said the operator, while reading a list of numbers out loud for me to write down. " I can email you the list as well if you just give me your email address."

I gave the operator my email address and hung up the phone. I began calling each number one by one, but none of them were able to help. The last number I called, was very rude.

"Hello, thank you for calling the Jahneeve Shelter, how may I help you?" Asked the operator.

"Hi, I am looking for a place to stay because I am a victim of human trafficking. I have a dog too." I replied.

"Oh yeah, I remember your voice. You've called us several times before haven't you?" Asked the woman.

"Yes I have." I replied.

"I'm sorry but we'll never be able to assist you. Stop calling our hotline. We don't want you here. I hope those classy men beat your ratchet homeless ass to death and I hope your mother never invites you back in the house and I hope you go to jail for life and loose everything you got!" Said the rude heartless b*tch right before letting out a loud obnoxious laugh. Then I heard another f*ggot in the background.

"That ain't that dusty tard calling again is it? She bedda not come up here! Who told Ed she could call us for help?" Said the nasty turned out freak in the background while laughing hysterically. Then the operator hung up the phone. 

I started crying and vomiting. There was vomit and tears all over my new dress. I was so scared and didn't have anywhere to go. I sat in the tent during the tornado. I saw it from a distance and I started praying to San La Muerte again.

"San La Muerte please protect me during this tornado. I have nowhere else to go. Amen." 

I grabbed my camera and took some pictures of the tornado from afar and posted them on my website. I warned the public that if I died, then I died in the tornado. An hour passed and so did the tornado. It went right pass the campsite and went on about it's business. The next day, I watched the news and found out that 25 people passed away because of it. I began to regain my faith in San La Muerte once again, but I didn't want to keep surviving all of those gross, sickening, negligent predators, so I kept praying.

"San La Muerte, please protect me from those gross, sadistic people! Please help! They want me to die out here! I didn't do anything to them! Please help! Please!" I screamed, while crying and vomiting. 

In St. Louis Missouri hiding from human predators on the East and West Coast 

I stayed at the campsite for several more days, before moving to another state. Another tornado warning alert had came to my phone, and I didn't want to take any chances. After I arrived in Burlington Iowa, I called Shark City Public Housing.

"Hello." Said the operator.

"Hi, my name is Oya Obinidodo and I'm checking on my position on the wait list." I said.

"One moment please." Said the operator, before placing me on a brief hold.

"You're number 2,098 on the wait list." Said the operator. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" 

"How long is that going to take?" I asked.

"I don't know, it could take forever. You might even die before we get around to you." She said. Then I hung up the phone and cried. It didn't matter anyway, because I knew Emanuela would show up inside of my bedroom like he did at all my other unsafe apartments, and no one would care. They were all stank. 

After I set up my campsite in Burlington, I called one of the local recording studios. "I wonder how fake they gonna be to me? Let's find out!" I said to Big C out loud. I called the first studio on the list.

"Hello?" Said the person on the other end of the line.

"Yes I would like to book a 2 hour session." I said.

"Wait, let me take a look at the schedule...I'm going to place you on hold." Said the motherf*cker on the other end.

"Yes, the first available is tomorrow at 9 pm. Can you come in then?" He said. 

"Yes, I can." I replied. 

"Ok let me get your name and the money for the session. Which credit card will you be using?" He asked.

"I'll be using my American Express. My name is Oya Obinidodo." I replied. 

"Oh yeah? That sounds like my other artist. Her name is Oya too!" He said, turning me off. I did not give a f*ck about another artist named Oya. I did not want to be cloned in that f*cking studio.

"Man I need a refund bro. I forgot I gotta go to the dentist tomorrow." I said.

"I'm sorry mam but we don't give refunds. I can reschedule you for another day." He said. I still didn't know his name. 

"Man what the hell. I'll just reschedule for Saturday then at the same time." I said and hung up the phone. 

I shouldn't have never called them. I was used to running my own studio anyway. To me, going to a studio that belong to another person was a step backwards, not forward. I just didn't want to record outside. There was too much noise. Too many birds chirping, frogs ribbiting, coyotes howling, owls whoo-ing, and dogs barking. I didn't want to go to a hotel because of what Ghana Bwoy and Emanuela had done to me the last time I was in one. What if they showed up in Iowa? 

I knew that studio experience would be wack. There's no way that I wanted to get bullied by those Iowa motherf*ckers. Now the competition was just skank. I started hearing voices in my head saying skank sh*t like, 

"She ain't the only Oya priestess out here! Who she thinks she is?"

I had to silence the voices so I drove to Des Moines and brought a large bottle of tequila. Alcohol always does the trick. After I got back to the campsite I drank and rehearsed my new songs. I didn't want to burn any candles because burning candles inside of tents isn't safe. 

"How they going to clone me?" I asked out loud. "I know where I came from..." 

Friday came, and there was only one day left before the recording day. I started having second thoughts about going, but I decided to go away. I slept in my bulletproof vest and helmet and it was very uncomfortable. I hardly got any rest. 

Saturday came and it was time to go to the studio. While I was walking in, I saw a girl with black nail polish on and a group of women with ratchet nail polish on and ratchet hairstyles walking out of the studio. They looked extremely stank, and I could feel it in the air. 

"Those are the type of women Emanuela and Ghana Bwoy should be chasing, that's their kind right there." I said out loud.

"What?" Said the nameless star of the group with the sunglasses on. You can just tell which one is the leader when noticing a pack of women. It isn't hard to tell. 

"Oh nothing." I said. 

"Nah I thought I heard you say something?" Said the lead star as she took off one of her earrings. What the hell was her problem? She doesn't even know who the hell those men are. 

"No I didn't say anything and I don't have time to argue with you." I replied.

"That's what I motherf*cking thought b*tch if you say one more thing imma burn that mask off yo face! Trick!" She yelled. 

What a loser. Her and her puppets walked away and sped off in a Benz. I know the studio would be wack. I said that already. I assumed the ghetto trick had more views than me, being that most people like people in packs. 

As I walked in the door, I went to the counter and the man at the studio reception desk said hello.

"Hi. I have an appointment at 9." I replied.

"Oh yeah I know who you are. Did you see Oya on your way out? That was her. Maybe you two should link up." He said. He was looking real goofy by that point. He knew that I was uncomfortable and didn't want any beef with that girl.

"I don't want to link up with your artist. I'm sorry." I said. 

"Well how do you think you're ever going to make it big if you don't want to connect?" He asked, sounding petty. 

"I'm not trying to make it big I just want to record a f*cking song. Now can you please take me to the booth!" I yelled. 

He straightened up his glasses and walked me to the booth. I began recording six songs and then waited for them to be mastered by the engineer and producer. The nerdy reception guy with the glasses walked back out and said,

"Hey you move pretty fast. Most people can only record three songs in two hours!" 

"Thank you." I replied.

"Sure thing." He said. He handed me a flash drive with the mastered songs on them and then I headed out the door. As I was walking out the door, he said one last thing,

"Don't come back up here." 

"Oh I won't!" I said. "And f*ck all those other artist and f*ck that Oya b*tch!" I screamed.

"That's why you'll never be famous. Goodbye!" He said, and shut the door. 

"Those studios are so phoney!" I said, as I sped off and headed back to the campsite. After I arrived, I started designing a cover for the first single, and posted it to social media. In the caption it read:

I am not affiliated with any other artist, people, or labels. I am 100% solo. Anyone claiming to be affiliated with me is a fraud. 

I didn't have time for people to be associating me with anyone, especially a pack of women. That's not cool. No one did anything for me and I've been in these streets alone, without a single person to call for help and no one gave me a dime for anything! I don't know anybody and I ain't gay either! 

Everything seemed to be going okay as far as Emanuela goes. I checked his criminal record and he was given a 60 year sentence for his heinous crimes. I had nothing to do with it. I didn't snitch. No wonder he wasn't stalking me anymore. A whole week passed, and I stayed at the campground, unbothered, writing more songs for my new album. One night, I walked to the car, to grab a bottle of wine, and that's when I saw him. It was Emanuela again.

"You thought I was gone for 60 years? Girl please!" He said. I dropped the bottle of wine that was in my hand, and started urinating in my underwear. Emanuela walked over to the wine bottle, picked it up, and started drinking it. Why was San La Muerte willing to get me out of a tornado but not this? 

I grabbed Big C and started walking towards the car. I was going to drive away and hide until the next day so I could pack up my stuff. That's when Emanuela stopped in front of the driver side door and blocked it.

"Now come on boo. I've been chasing you all this time and you still won't be submissive? What is your problem? You should be well trained to follow my orders by now!" He screamed. He still had a gun. I could see it peeking out of his boobs. It was tucked inside of his bra. I was still silent.

"Now go inside the tent. You know what I'm here for." He demanded. 

"You burned me! You and Ghana Bwoy almost gave me AIDS! Now you're demanding more sex! Get the fu*k out you f*cking perv! I hate you! Why don't you just go be with your boyfriend!?" I screamed. 

"Keep my boyfriend name out your mouth! And girl I did not burn you. You burned me. Hahahaha!" He started laughing like a cruel, evil, monster. 

When was it going to stop? He was telling a lie. I did not have an STD before them. 

"How you get out of jail!? What the f*ck?!" I yelled. 

"That's none of your business too! The only thing you should be concerned with is putting your mouth on my d*ck!" He said in a cruel tone. "You're being dumb girl. Why do you keep coming to remote areas by yourself? I could shoot yo ass right here!" 

Emanuela pulled out his pistol and shot a coyote right in front of me.

"Ahhhhhhh!" I screamed, but no one heard me.

"What you do that for?" I asked.

"Shut the f*ck up and come over here and help me skin this thing!" He demanded!

"No!" I yelled. He let off a warning shot into the air and then I ran over to help him with the coyote. I didn't want it. After the coyote was skinned he started a fire and began cooking it.

"Fine. I'll be nice to you and have a heart today. You don't have to eat the coyote. Go over there and find a fish then." He instructed. 

He wasn't being nice. He was just low-key being greedy. He wanted all the meat for himself. After he cooked the meat, he made a hat out of the fur. I was disturbed by what I saw. I was not flattered. 

"Now this is how you survive!" He said, while wearing a Coyote fur hat and stomach full of meat. He handed me a fishing rod and I walked over by the lake. I didn't even know how to fish, but I pretended to, just to act busy. I was trying to prolong whatever evil plans he had in store for me after the dinner. 

I still had lost most of my magical power. I used to could make animal killers die, now I couldn't. After Emanuela ate the coyote and made the fur hat, he started killing every animal around him. I was in fear for Big C's life, like never before. He killed a squirrel, a deer, and a muskrat right before my very eyes. I didn't even know Emanuela had a license to hunt. He probably didn't. For a man as feminine as he was, he sure was acting like a man all of a sudden. You'd think he would be too scared to break a nail or sweat out his hair! I guess the little time he spent in jail toughened him up. 

I stood by the lake for an hour, and didn't catch anything. Emanuela eventually walked over and said,

"Oh yeah, I heard that little diss record you put out while I was locked up." 

"What diss record?" I asked.

"Don't play stupid fool. The song about the gay men.... THAT'S FOR CERTAIN" he replied, rolling his eyes.

"It's called That's for Sure... Not that's for certain!" I exclaimed. 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever nigga. That's for certain, that's for sure, whatever! So that's what we doing now? We sneak dissing?" Said Emanuela, sounding more manly than usual. 

"My name ain't nigga and you're not the only gay man out here treating me like this! It wasn't even about you! And I'm not a we nigga!" I responded. 

"Yeah whatever, I know it was about me and Ghana Bwoy!" He said. "Now go take a shower and get in the tent right now before I break yo jaw! Hurry up!" Screamed Emanuela. 

He has never threatened me like that before. He had never hit me. I was in the middle of nowhere, scared for my life. I didn't know if he was going to shoot me or not. I also got really curious as to where Ghana Bwoy was, but he wouldn't speak on his situation, and insisted that he was none of my business. The last time I saw him, he was acting very afraid of Emanuela. 

After I took a shower, I went inside my tent. Emanuela then took a shower in another tent. That's when he slipped up. I grabbed my purse, grabbed Big C, and drove away from the campsite, abandoning all of my property. I didn't even worry about going back to pack it up. I drove away from Iowa, and headed back to the East Coast. The drive was 13 hours long. I stopped in West Virginia and slept in the Sheetz parking lot and headed out the next day. 

I went to Church Street in Norfolk, to try to see if I could locate Ghana Bwoy. I couldn't find him online anywhere, and I couldn't find any pornos of him with Emanuela anywhere. I saw a group of men on the corner, where I dropped him off, and asked about his whereabouts.

"Do y'all know where Ghana Bwoy is?" I asked.

On Church St. in Norfolk looking for Ghana Bwoy 

"Yeah, he round here somewhere!" Said one of the men. He looked like he hadn't showered in a month. The other man said,

"Ghana Bwoy was just 'round here this morning, he'll be back through here tomorrow!" Another man said, who was dressed a little better, but still doing bad. 

I parked in a empty parking lot nearby, and slept there overnight. I had a lot of questions for him, and I needed answers. At least he was still alive. I knew that it would take Emanuela at least a day or two to find me, so I wanted to be quick. I was surprised that Ghana Bwoy was even in Norfolk. Why hadn't he left? I thought he was from Miami like Emanuela.