Homeless.

Homeless.

A Story by A Social Corpse
"

Do not let your pride get in the way of someone's help.

"

“It’s your turn Tim.” I looked up from the board and stared at the man across from me. Chess was a game of patience, a game of wits and not instinct. I ignored his comment and instead looked past him at the sun setting in the distance; it was amazingly beautiful, with mixed colors of purple, orange, red. It was humbling to the say the least. I moved my queen to the square that would seal the deal and smiled at him, “Checkmate.” He gave me a stern look and then stared down at the board in a dumbfounded way that made me laugh. I stood up and grabbed my things, making my way to the building I would call home for the next few weeks. I stood at the bus stop for a while and watched the people around me give their usual horrifying looks. Looks that no compassionate person would make to anyone, but this was a generation of people who have come to think of us as parasites. The bus stopped in front of me and I climbed aboard, shoving my coins in the little machine before me. The driver handed me my ticket and I took my seat to a lovely young girl. Quickly, she grabbed her things and moved to another seat, I guess my stench was a little overpowering. For a while, I had used truck stop showers until they started to realize that I was coming in everyday and was not a trucker. They told me I could never come back unless I had money or else they would call the cops.

 

I love the bus; it gives me time to think, time to process the world around its inhabitants and me. Its drones, as I like to call them, because honestly that is all they are. They move about their day and talk on their phones and type on their computers, they have lost their substance, and they are in essence soulless. There are times when I look at myself as being completely free, not having anyone to answer to, not having to be someone’s slave so that they can have a better life. These thoughts however, are ended by that cold wind that comes through the buildings I stay in and my only wish is to be somewhere warm. Wrapping myself up in as many newspapers as I can just to feel a degree warmer. It’s a sad feeling when you know that there is no home to go to, no one waiting for you to ask about your day and hug and greet you. Having someone there, that loves you and you love him or her back, the warm embrace of your significant other when you come home and tell him or her about your horrible day.

 

I have a job that I got by someone who gave me some money. I hand out these coupons to people and he pays me 20 dollars. It is not much but it allows me to buy food, I would never waste it on alcohol and drugs like I have seen so many do. Most people take the coupons and leave it at that, whereas others tell me to suck it and spit on me or slap the coupons out of my hands. I would punch some of these people, but that would lead me going to jail. The cops would not even listen to my side of the story, they would get his and put me in cuffs and off we went. Being a homeless man has really made me see the true qualities of people, there are some good people out there, but most are mean spirited. Those ones have successfully shunned us out from society and have people treating us like lepers. Do not get too close little Tommy, you may get homelessness from him. These are the people who want us all to live in cages; somewhere we can be invisible to them, to where they never have to see us. I think this is a way for them to hide their own guilt that they let their fellow citizens get to this point. But why suffer through guilt when you can just push it away and never have to face it. I do not hold a sign asking for money or anything, I do not expect anyone’s help for a situation I got myself into. All I want is some damn decency from people. A few weeks ago, someone offered me a hundred dollars to eat my excrement, what is wrong with people.

 

The bus creaks and the air brakes hiss as it stops, I look out the window and see that it is not my stop and I look out the window next to me. Staring at all the people walking around with smiles on their faces and enjoying their lives, forgetting about the darkness that hides in the abandoned buildings and the alleyways no one uses. I feel a brush on my shoulder and look next to me a young girl is there. She looks to be in her early twenties or so and I can tell she is somewhat uncomfortable next to me. I shove myself as close to the wall as I can and feel her hand touch my shoulder.

 

“I am sorry, you don’t have to move away, sir.” Her voice was soft and the sun shined on her blonde hair. She had light makeup on to cover what she saw as deformities on her face. I stared at her for a moment she had called me sir. A word used to show common respect to a fellow man. I do not think I have to tell you but my heart was pounding now.

 

“Oh, well I am just used to be separated from the public, I guess.” I said as I looked to her, I let my eyes wander for a bit, I did not want to seem like a creep.

 

Her green eyes looked at me, “It is very sad that our country does not have the adequate supplies to help people in your situation. They would rather help those in china, among other places rather than look to our own people.”

 

“Well, when you are busy trying to fix the world you don’t want your own problems seen, you know?” I adjusted my coat and kept looking at her.

 

“So, if you don’t mind me asking where is your family? I would think they would be more than willing to help.”

 

“My dad is dead from a drug overdose and I haven’t talked to my mother in years. She went somewhat crazy when my father died, guess she thought it was my fault.” I couldn’t believe my own words, I was pouring my heart out to her and I didn’t even know her name.

 

“So, why don’t you call her now?” She said with a smile. I took the comment almost as childish.

 

“Oh, I couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t help me even if I wanted it.”

 

“Sounds like to me, you have a grudge for whatever she did to you.” Again, her hand touched my shoulder, something I have wanted for so long, just a touch from another human being. A touch that said, hey do not worry life will work out for you. “I know if I was in your situation I would call. No grudge could be worth sleeping wherever you are and eating whatever you can find.” Her eyes showed a deep look of concern, as if she actually cared.

 

I couldn’t say anything else, but just looked at her sheepishly. Her words as true as they might have been were far from what I was able to do. She sat there quietly for the rest of her trip and when it was time for her to get off; she stood up and then looked at me.

 

“Whatever you choose to do in your life, well, I just hope that it works out for you.” With that, she was gone, out of my life. I sat there quietly, only thinking about her words. The bus stopped and it was time for me to get off, I climbed out and stretched. The building before me was boarded up and most of the windows were shattered, graffiti was all over the walls. I walked up to the door and something to my left caught my eye. At the corner of the building was a pay phone. I stood there for what must have been hours, just staring at it, her words moving through my brain. I reached my hand into the pocket and felt the change; I played with it for a while and then moved to the phone. I walked up to it and picked up the phone, the dial tone was loud and proud. Hanging it back up, I took the phonebook from its shelf and opened it. Finding her name was simple enough, quickly I dialed the number given and dropped my money in.

 

As it rang, I looked at the glass pane above the phone; there written in a sharpie were four words.

 

There is always hope.

 

The ringing stopped and I heard her voice, “Hello?” It sounded like an angel, as if she knew who was on the other line. It was as if she was sitting there waiting for this call.

 

“Hello mom, its Tim.”

© 2012 A Social Corpse


Author's Note

A Social Corpse
Another short that I ended open.

Let me know what you think.

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DrD
This is your area of exploit and I sense a greater comfort here than in poetry. I am going to recommend that you view http://www.wussu.com/writings/index.htm and look at the writings of Weed. I think you will see why once you read them over.

Posted 7 Years Ago


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Mal
wonderful writing! The theme is very absorbing. Usually nobody ever bothers to write about stuff like this. The girl's character was especially well crafted. Keep going :)

Posted 7 Years Ago


A Social Corpse

7 Years Ago

Thank you for such wonderful words. I think a lot of people find this material to be boring. To me h.. read more
This is a very gripping tale that brings to light the plight of our homeless members of society. Tim is an engaging character and in him, we are reminded that behind the outer appearance of each person living on the streets, is a real human being with a past, present, and future. With a simple touch and a few kinds words from a fellow human being, Tim is reminded of his past and given hope for the future.

This is a beautiful story. The open ending doesn't bother me at all, nor does it detract from the story. Thank you for giving us the opportunity to read this.

Posted 7 Years Ago


A Social Corpse

7 Years Ago

T__T Thank you for the amazing review! I have a lot of short stories like this that dive into the mi.. read more

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Added on October 19, 2012
Last Updated on October 19, 2012
Tags: Hope, sad, pride, humility, help, fear, change

Author

A Social Corpse
A Social Corpse

Fort Polk, LA



About
I have been writing for about 12 years now. I have nothing published as I feel that my works are not up to par. So, to quench my thirst for an audience I am bringing them here in hopes of some adequat.. more..

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