Mexico Madness

April 10, 2012
By jayala BRONZE, Eugene, Oregon
jayala BRONZE, Eugene, Oregon
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

My name is Jose Loco Torres and I’m middle school student 15 years old skinny black hair boy. I Didn’t have good clothing like the rich people I had a white T-shirt and blue jeans with black tennis shoes. This is my story when I was a boy and what had happen in Mexico. Back then 1875 I could do many things I was young. My family was not rich my father Francisco Teleso Torres is a farmer. my mother Susan Amparo Lisa doesn’t work puts the food on the table and helping us on our homework. My little brother Jr T Torres didn’t do much. My 15 year old life wasn’t much just work with my father and go to school until one day. March 24, 1870 we lived in a small town in Mexico it was hot like 90 degrees in Mexico I was sweating like a pig . We lived on a farm, the farm bigger than some of the house in town. We didn’t live in town we were 50 miles away from it. Are farm was red and we had a house next to the farm you could see the white house from miles. We work on that field. One day me and my father were working on the field army men were laughing at him the army truck past by. My father said to me “son don’t join the army those men are evil” I said “papa I don’t want to join them I know what they do.” Good son my father said. I was bad kid back then my father said do good in school and work I did all that. My father was not rabid. I was the rabid at me. My father didn’t like Porfirio Diaz he would go in basement. I was getting rabid about that. We went inside the house when my father came out. My whole family sat down and ate. We were eating corn beans and rice. The smell of the food went in my nose. That night My father said something “ son, someday Diaz will be gone” you will understand later. I was laying on my bed when I hear a noise in the middle of the night. I went down stairs when my father was getting his gun and food. In his hand he held a rifle springfield loaded with ammo with his navy green backpack . Papa what are you doing I said. My father said ‘’do you remember what I told you someday is today son.” You’re going to kill him I said. My father said yes I have to, that man keeps killing people. I’m sorry son I have to son I can’t let that rabid man take over this city. . Papa what about Mama what about Jr what are you going to say when you leave. I don’t know what they are going to say I stared to cry. My father gave me a hug and said good bye you will see me again. I went to my bed and went to bed. The next day I didn’t see my father I was lost I was thinking what did we do? I don’t care he is gone I want him back I was saying in my head I woke up it was a dream. I went down the stair I didn’t see my father. My mother got up from bed and then I started crying. My mother said what’s wrong she said dad left I said. My mother started crying, mama what are we going to tell Jr I said, I don’t know my mother said. Jr came down stair and I told him he cried. It was Monday morning we had to go to school in 30 mins I got dressed in a hurry. I ran outside for the bus. The bus took us downtown we look for my father on the street and I didn’t see him. I could not find him we didn’t talk much English we talk Spanish. We got to the school we ran to our class my brother had math. I had English I was not paying attenuation to class thinking what I’m going to do I remember. I said this out loud the teacher said what do you remember nothing the teacher got mad and hit me with a ruler and I felt so much pain in the back of my head that it felt like someone hitting me over and over again. When school was over I got on the bus and ran to the back of the farm to get a axe I got the axe then hit the door to the basement. My mama came and my little brother came my mama took the axe and yelled at me but grab the axe back then hit it one more time then the door broke we look in there were plans to kill him. 7 years later my papa did kill Diaz. 7 years I was in Los Angeles working for newspaper called Los Angeles times I titled my story Mexico Madness.

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