Gangs from Another World Ch 01

This story takes place in a world like our own where magic and high technology rule the day. This particular world is ruled by a feline race. The race is divided up into 12 clans (like Greek city-states), with their own territories, solar systems and planets. These 12 clans answer to the original Home World for external disputes, negations, emergencies or to direct military operations only. Within the time-frame of this story, a new Emperor has recently ascended the throne, approximately a year has past since the ascension. He was the previous ruler of the Clan Ya-kith-Thar or Clan founding #3, world of the artisan cats.

Unfortunately, not all residents have benefited from technological wonders. The forgotten, who were not lucky enough to be Royal born or middle class and above, experience a hard life, like those of the colonial worlds. The poorer denizens see the technological marvels from their windows, and yet experience little of it. This is the story of one such group living in the ghetto of the Capital city, written by Horus Blackburn, leader of the North-Central Gang.

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Some are born into the ghetto, and others are exercised here like some kind of shabby ghost. My sister, Anna was born here; I was deposited here like an old penny that fell from a drunken man’s pocket. My old man served on a star ship that transported cargo from one planet to another, or so I was told. He sent money to my mom as often as he could. At least I could thank him for that, but not much else. He was only around long enough to get my mom pregnant twice. By the time I turned 16 the money stopped rolling in. Nobody knew what happened to him, or in my case not care. All I know is that a year later with no gold Anna and I were kicked out of private school.

Later that year my mom picked up some kind of disease. She was a tough old cat (about 30% cat) and wouldn’t admit that something was wrong.

Eventually, the disease took over her body and she was in constant pain. We didn’t even have the money to pay for her funeral; it was the Church of Our Ancestors, who coughed up the gold. The healers we took her to only knew it was some kind of rare disease that would take a lot of gold to repair, gold we didn’t have.

Now I could go into how the North-Central Posse formed or how we battled the Tanglewood Gang from taking our territory, but I don’t want to bore you with the details.

(to be continued)

#scifi #shortstory #fiction

btw..."I will be posting this story on RoyalRoad.com"

and https://www.royalroad.com/profile/266334/fictions