The True Beggar

A true story

Neon faded from view into street lights at 3:30 in the morning, and while some stayed on, most closed down. But late bars and restaurants were far from this man’s mind, a desperate stranger sitting on the scantiness soaked sidewalk, five blocks from the Atlantic ocean, where we also happened to be. His jacket and stocking cap were tattered gray, and his knees, covered by a pair of dirty jeans, jutted toward the sky with his arms wrapped around his whole isolation. It was a cold night on South Beach, in the 30’s, unusual for Florida, the coldest it had been in six years, though we were only visiting.

 

He did not say a word as we passed, and I glanced down into his bright and wide eyes. The white of them, so wide it surrounded all his color, illuminated his anxious essence, lightened more and more each second I stared and compared it to his dark skin. I saw this man, and heard his frantic plea. His teeth, eyes, and arm rattled as he extended one of his only possessions, a small styrofoam cup. He was so silent, but his eyes screamed for favor, retribution, some spare change to feed an addiction. Withdrawing from cash may be the hardest rehab of all.

 

“Did you see that man?” I asked.

“No,” they said.

“I stared into his eyes.”

“Who?”

“He chilled my bones.”

 

I wanted desperately to give some sort of relief, but it was impossible. I had no money to lend. He was young, that is, not older than 30. Abandoned by his family, and his fellow humanity, he was ruined, already forgotten, and worthless to so very many. I fraught the thought of his story, his path to this dreadful place, without a savior, to the life of a true beggar.

 

The next day, I found myself in the same spot, but the beggar was gone. At least, apparently, he still had his legs, the instinctual way to change his view. And, at least I knew he wasn’t frozen. I swelled when I glared at the outline of where he had sat, thinking about his eyes, how they tore mine apart and grabbed my blood to show me how the same flows through his veins; that poor, miserable wretch.

Reviews

[T. F. Rice]

Hi, Travis. Hi, again, that is. It's been a long time. Sorry about that. I like this short piece, but there is something in the first paragraph that stops me. I think its source is in the following section:

"But late bars and restaurants were far from this man's mind, a desperate stranger sitting on the scantiness soaked sidewalk, f..."

You refer to "this man" before you tell us there is a man in the scene. Perhaps an easy fix is to swap the first part of the above line for the next part, so you introduce the man before referring to him casually? Just a suggestion; take it or leave it. Example:

"A desperate stranger sits on the soaked sidewalk, five blocks from the Atlantic ocean, where we also happen to be. From the look of him, I think late bars and restaurants are far from his mind. His jacket and stocking cap are tattered gray, his knees covered by a pair of dirty jeans, "

Two things you will also notice I changed, for the purpose of demonstration only, in above example, are... unless you have omnipotence and know exactly what the man is thinking, you should talk as if you are looking at him and thinking something about him. Otherwise, it comes across like you think you know him even though he is a stranger, and then the story can be borderline believable. Make it believable. Tell your observations, show what you are thinking by letting others make their own observations from visual aids you offer, but dont get inside the character's head directly unless you want to consistently write the whole story that way. This story doesnt strike me as one you meant to write in that manner.

Oh, and one more thing. Be careful of passive language, such as "where we also happened to be". Try "where we also happen to be" because the reader is supposed to be "in" the story where you are taking them, and not ahead of time to where you sit ... writing what has happened in the past. Okay?

The best way you can see the difference is to take a copy of your story and go through... make any past-tense verbs present-tense, to drive the story more vividly. Then read it over and see which way you like it better. You might be surprised. I have to do this with my own writing because everybody tends to slip into passive phrases every so often... no one is immune... but present tense (depending on the story) can make a good story great.
YOUR ORIGINAL: "He did not say a word as we passed, and I glanced "
REVISED EXAMPLE: "He does not say a word as we pass, even as I glance "

Best to you with your writing...
T. F. Rice
Editor of The Other Herald