Post by NicoJoe on Feb 9, 2011 1:43:57 GMT -5
For the reader: This story is coming off the top of my head, no planning and I don't know where it will end up. I'm stuck in a hotel right now and I need something to do so here goes nothing...
James sat on the bus stop, well after the last bus had run it's course for the night. He was nervous, his face ashen and his palms sweaty. The night was dark, the kind of dark you only see when no one is around. The kind of dark that makes you feel alone in the world, isolated from all other living beings and forced to begin to live without them. It made him long for Amelia's touch; her hand rubbing the back of his neck. He needed comforting.
James' eye was drawn to a figure across the street, what looked like a man. He was illuminated by the streets only working streetlight. From what James could tell, he wore a brimmed hat and a trench coat. The man stared at James and James stared back. But before the young man could speak, the streetlight extinguished, leaving only the darkness.
"It was only your imagination," James said to himself, aloud hoping that would help him believe it. James' heart was racing, though, as he feared for his life. This, apparently, had not been a good place to stay for the night. But he had no where to go, no where to hide. He decided that if he was going to die, this was as good a time as any. Still, he prayed for that man to be his imagination.
After about ten minutes with no sign of the man, James laid his down on the cold, metal bench. He was grateful for the summer weather, at least he wouldn't freeze to death tonight.
James awoke to a loud and firm voice, "Get the hell out of here before I take you in!"
The officer was shaking him and he quickly got to his feet and began to walk away, putting his hands up in surrender. James moved quickly toward a park, hoping to find a bench there to sit on, but the cop seemed to be following him. He continued on into the park, weaving between people as he evaded the man. Eventually, he lost sight of him and relaxed.
Idly, he wondered what time it was. There were enough people on the street and in the park for it to be mid morning. A man past by, dressed in a suit and James asked what time it was.
"Eight thirty," the man sneered and James could read the words on his face, "get a job so you can buy a watch".
James thanked the man and he walked away quickly. Homelessness is not contagious, he thought as he watched the man scurry away. People are so judgmental, never willing to imagine what life is like for others. James never noticed this until now. He didn't like human nature, but knew it was just that; our nature. It couldn't be changed, and he was just as guilty as anyone else.
Two months ago, he would have been just like that man; worse even. At least the man gave him the time; James would have ignored him completely or outright insulted him. James remembered suits, remembered having a car, remembered having a home and not sleeping on bus benches and being wrenched from a restless sleep by a police officer threatening to arrest him. Sad thing was, James wasn't sure how much longer he would remember it. Life on the streets is longer than life in a home. A day feels like a week, a week like a month, etc.. James remember what it felt like to have a home, a place of safety and security. James concluded that knowing where you would sleep at night was a luxury people took very much for granted. Going without food for a day, people do that all the time, water too. But not having somewhere you could go at the end of the day meant the day didn't end. It only added on to the next day and the next day and the next day until you lost it. Peace of mind is underrated.
James sat on the bus stop, well after the last bus had run it's course for the night. He was nervous, his face ashen and his palms sweaty. The night was dark, the kind of dark you only see when no one is around. The kind of dark that makes you feel alone in the world, isolated from all other living beings and forced to begin to live without them. It made him long for Amelia's touch; her hand rubbing the back of his neck. He needed comforting.
James' eye was drawn to a figure across the street, what looked like a man. He was illuminated by the streets only working streetlight. From what James could tell, he wore a brimmed hat and a trench coat. The man stared at James and James stared back. But before the young man could speak, the streetlight extinguished, leaving only the darkness.
"It was only your imagination," James said to himself, aloud hoping that would help him believe it. James' heart was racing, though, as he feared for his life. This, apparently, had not been a good place to stay for the night. But he had no where to go, no where to hide. He decided that if he was going to die, this was as good a time as any. Still, he prayed for that man to be his imagination.
After about ten minutes with no sign of the man, James laid his down on the cold, metal bench. He was grateful for the summer weather, at least he wouldn't freeze to death tonight.
James awoke to a loud and firm voice, "Get the hell out of here before I take you in!"
The officer was shaking him and he quickly got to his feet and began to walk away, putting his hands up in surrender. James moved quickly toward a park, hoping to find a bench there to sit on, but the cop seemed to be following him. He continued on into the park, weaving between people as he evaded the man. Eventually, he lost sight of him and relaxed.
Idly, he wondered what time it was. There were enough people on the street and in the park for it to be mid morning. A man past by, dressed in a suit and James asked what time it was.
"Eight thirty," the man sneered and James could read the words on his face, "get a job so you can buy a watch".
James thanked the man and he walked away quickly. Homelessness is not contagious, he thought as he watched the man scurry away. People are so judgmental, never willing to imagine what life is like for others. James never noticed this until now. He didn't like human nature, but knew it was just that; our nature. It couldn't be changed, and he was just as guilty as anyone else.
Two months ago, he would have been just like that man; worse even. At least the man gave him the time; James would have ignored him completely or outright insulted him. James remembered suits, remembered having a car, remembered having a home and not sleeping on bus benches and being wrenched from a restless sleep by a police officer threatening to arrest him. Sad thing was, James wasn't sure how much longer he would remember it. Life on the streets is longer than life in a home. A day feels like a week, a week like a month, etc.. James remember what it felt like to have a home, a place of safety and security. James concluded that knowing where you would sleep at night was a luxury people took very much for granted. Going without food for a day, people do that all the time, water too. But not having somewhere you could go at the end of the day meant the day didn't end. It only added on to the next day and the next day and the next day until you lost it. Peace of mind is underrated.
Congrats grimn! You're in the real mode, now. I've no doubt that you'll surprise yourself on just how tough and mature you can be.