The Oddest of Lives

A very odd life he lived. Never his fortune did it lead him to a street that couldn’t kill him, a simple passerby with a cup in hand.  He jiggled it in their noses only to frighten children with a few cents in their pocket. Copper was gold, and the only gold he would see would be at the gates.

Friends were plenty, but they never stayed that way. It ended with a friend who either was dead or disappeared with everything he owned. Malnutrition was not in his vocabulary but it is something he knew too well. Related events, apprehensive eyes watched his movements with such detail. Unshaven, scraggly face with many facial imperfections; sores and disease was a trademark of those he dwelled nearby. 

He became familiar with the pattern of those who shared his fate. They also had produced the look of shame to the T. They stood crookedly, and traveled with the same consistencies. A limp, sometimes followed by a dragging foot, and sweat drenched their torn shirts. During the winter months, the city would hide them in the corner of small buildings. They huddled together with children, holding onto one another trying to wipe the tears away before it froze to their skin. They took turns holding the sign begging for shelter, sometimes even just a blanket. The holes in their jeans showed a trade secret, old newspaper wrapped around their legs.

This man, he had no dependants, so the freedom of thievery could have been a paramount part of his life, but he lived by a code, his own code. It made life more difficult, but he needed to be sure.

A bleak night, he found a small corner behind a desolate dumpster that reeked of week old trash. He knew right away the food was no good, and instead only hid from the wind, bringing with it a terrible storm of ice that would bury itself turning his flesh into stone. He crossed his arms across his body, and hid his torn gloves within his armpits to cover his exposed fingertips. He pulled his legs close to his chest, and rested his head on the wall that he leaned against. The only thing between himself and the wall was a thin winter cap he had found on a dead friend.

Finally his eyes fell sharply and within a few minutes he was in a deep sleep. The slumber was disturbed after having the most terrible dream of his life. He awoke in tears, and could do nothing but stand and live the next day. He went through the routine, holding the cup in hand as he walked down the sidewalk next to the skyscrapers. He never thought to look up; he believed the only thing that mattered was what was within arm’s reach.

He had a slow day, and he didn’t make enough to eat, so instead of traveling back, he found another safe place to rest. He found a building with a partition between himself and the elements. He laid to sleep on a thin piece of cardboard with no blanket. He found sleep soon, and again had another nightmare. This night was not nearly as terrible as the first, but still awoke shaken from the previous night.

The winter was only getting deadlier, claiming the lives of people who he had known for years. There were many who joined them every day, but he didn’t take responsibility for their despair. He ignored them as much, or more than those who avoided them.

He again traveled to places he had never been, claiming to be a pioneer and a subject matter expert of proper consumption of garbage. Today was more fortunate than others, and that night when he laid to rest, he realized he was smiling. He laughed within himself and was finally asleep.

This night, he dreamed of sitting at the largest table he had ever seen. He could see a wonderful feast, and people sitting among him. They did not speak to him, but he didn’t entirely care to notice. He only consumed until he was sick. When he finally had done, and the buttons of his shirt had already popped off, he wiped all the gravy from the turkey he had just eaten, and sat back in his wooden high back chair and threw his legs forward. He smiled at those who sat among him, and their eyes lit when they smiled back.

He awoke sick to the stomach, but a less familiar feeling, he was full. He could still taste the turkey and all the fruits and vegetables he had eaten. There was corn stuck in his teeth, and his buttons lay on the damp concrete just in front of him next to his torn black leather boots with no laces. He retrieved them and stood slowly. He made his way with one hand on the wall toward the street where the people would have thought he was drunk. They just avoided him, and assumed what they would. He did nothing but smile at them with a corny grin. He fixed his cap and lived his routine all over again.

He saw restaurants and saw the consumers walk down its steps so nonchalantly. They always left with the same expression that they came with. He would sit near the entrance across the street, hoping to find someone too lazy to want to carry around leftover pizza. He got lucky more than once, and just smiled as they handed it to them. He knew they thought they had done something good for someone today. Either way it didn’t matter, because they could do it every day. Although he accepted, he took the box, and ambled down the street where a small child sat upright near a great church. A small blue jacket and one shoe with the other one only a flip-flop, the Dallas cowboys. He remembered when they were good, and it must have been that old considering the condition it was in. He approached him and dropped the box, but he was staring at the ground, and he wouldn’t take notice of him. He kept his eyes fixed on the crack that separated the sidewalk. He moved the box in front of his eyes, and began to leave, but then he turned to look one last time. He was dead, probably suicide but he didn’t want to know, he only kept walking.

He kept his eyes open for a place to sleep, and found one when nightfall almost had come. When it was time to rest, he found a small pocketknife hiding underneath a box near a loading station behind a restaurant. This night, he stared at the stars trying to find a comfortable position to sleep. It was not a few moments later he was completely unconscious, and he began to dream.

He was in Venice, standing in the Sistine chapel with a beautiful woman. He was well dressed, and had a camera looped around his neck. The woman relieved the camera from his neck and began to take pictures. She took the photos and waved them in the air and showing him when the image appeared. He smiled at her, and gestured to the door. They walked hand in hand to the center of the courtyard, and a tourist passed them. He asked the man if he would take a photo of them standing in front of the church. The man agreed and held the camera, looking confused. He smiled at them and counted down from three and snapped the photo. They all looked together and made comments of it, and the woman he was with couldn’t stop smiling. She handed him the photo and he took it. They walked past a clutter of birds carrying on nearby. The birds knew their presence and immediately flew away in surprise.

Then, he awoke again in the city but did not seem distraught at all. He only stood and began his daily routine. Although today was somewhat different, he began to notice people seemed to be less fearful of him. This only brought a joy to his heart, and he would walk past children with a smile, they smiled back. He did not ask for money, he only walked as they did. He knew it was working because they looked at him as one of their own.

The day was beginning to come to a close, and the man hurried to a find a place to sleep. He came upon a churchyard, and decided it was time to pray a little. He walked towards a tombstone, half broken and illegible and he prayed for that person. He felt a lot like them in a sense. A tree was alone on the opposite corner of the yard, so he found it a comfortable place to sleep. He laid his back between two roots protruding from the ground, and rested his head on the trunk. He went to sleep as quickly as he could, and a world faded from view.

He was lying in a recliner chair, watching the news. The woman from Venice was there, standing across the living room walking from the kitchen to her rocking chair only a few feet from him. They sat in close proximity to the TV but also to each other. He looked to the walls, and the wooden frame holding the TV, and saw photographs of a family and he was in the center near the back. He was a father, and when he looked to what seemed like a grown version of the children in the previous photo, he realized he was a grandfather. He also saw a card that sat next to them, reading the number fifty. His wife looked into his eyes with more love he had ever seen. He had seen it before, but it was never for him. He gazed at her stupefied, and reared back the foot rest. He stood from the recliner, and made his way across the kitchen, never breaking eye contact. He stared at her deeply and told her without words, that he loved her. He had never felt this before, and knew that was what it was. He took her into his arms and pressed her close and kissed her. Lips tightly together, a passion saved a true artist. They had enough for the whole world to change for the better, just a little. He stopped and pulled away when he heard a car park in the driveway. He did not know why the noise was familiar to him; he only knew it was not a stranger. It was his daughter, and she was just as beautiful as her mother. As he went to hold her, he awoke again to the sound of horns, and engines. City bustle, he took a look around and stumbled to his feet. He wiped his eyes clean and felt like he never had before.

He did nothing he should have that day. He only smiled and visited parks, and watched tourists smile as they stood before great arenas and concertos. He even took a few photos for them, with a simple handshake and a smile, which was more than enough for him. He felt lighter and his feet almost skipped instead of touching on all sides. He walked crookedly on purpose, dancing down the sidewalk, laughing as spectators cheered him on. He had given someone a true smile today and that was more than enough.

He found a small alleyway again that led to the dock. A dock in which was flooded with tourists completely enthralled in the oceans calmness. He watched them until the sun went down, then he felt his eyes get heavy and again he slept.

This night, was a dream he would not predict. He could see himself being carried away in a black bag by men he didn’t know. His eyes exploded with fear, he felt his insides get heavy and his heart began to race. His hand quivered as he ran upon the men and tore the bag from their hands. He gripped the zipper, and the sides separated, revealing his body to the spectators. He screamed in horror, and felt his body go limp.

That morning, the police discovered his body behind a fish house on Samson and fifth. Not a lot of foot traffic they presumed because he had been dead for almost seven days. They searched the body, and found no wallet or ID. The police only reported finding a photo clenched tightly within his fist. 

Reviews

[Alwaz]

I like this piece, you really get the sense of feeling for the first time what many people take for granted. I also like that your writing isn't stale, there are many points were you really came through in description and juxtaposition ("malnutrition... knew to well") and created a sense of divide between what many would recognize via learning from books or television and what he was well schooled in without knowing what it was in the lexical sense.

[Roxie Demonia]

wow is all i can say.

[PhantomDancer]

Powerful story and you built up the atmosphere very well. I didn't know what the ending would be, and having seen many people like your central character, feel very compasionate for their plights. Please keep writing more like this, it was well worth the read!

[Camille Corbett]

It is like a modern version of The Little Match Girl. Which incidentally is one of my favorite faerie tales. Your Style changed in and out of this work. But good for your age.

[Wounding Love]

I really enjoyed reading this and it held my attention; keeps the reader guessing about the character and his fate.

[Lizanne]

Grabbed my attention and held it from start to finish. Good storyline. Almost a blend of The Twilight Zone and One Step Beyond. Thoroughly enjoyable. The flow was great and the story was not cluttered with a lot of mundane details. I really like this work.