I walked past the Rastafarian beggar on the street, her wares laid out in front her. "Please sister, score us a fiver there."
My heart bled at the sight of her ragged clothes, bare feet and thin, worn face. "Sure, babes. Here we go." I handed her a five rand coin. Our hands touched for the slightest moment and I felt her rough, cold skin on mine. I looked into her eyes and saw only hopelessness.
I carried on walking down the street towards my large, silver Mercedes, and drove home, lost in thought.
I woke up in a fright; cold, stiff and disorientated. I pulled my newspaper over me for warmth, but no luck. I shoved my sister off my side of our makeshift cardboard-box-bed, and shuffled out of the alley. The morning commuters were beginning to make their way down the busy streets, takeout coffees steaming in the icy winter's air.
"Please madam, spare us a coin there." I approached a woman with her child in tow.
"No, tsek. Get away from me," she spat at me. I gazed after her, hurt.
I went back to my sister, Lena. "Sussie, I'm hungry," she said softly.
"I know, girlie, I know. We will get something to eat now." I wondered when. I watched as Old Paulie tried to steal Aunty Margot's money out of her bra while she slept. She swatted him away with her hand and readjusted herself to be more comfortable.
I stood outside the Woolworths Cafe, waiting for the expired items to be handed out. I hastily grabbed two sandwiches before anyone else could get to them. I walked briskly back to my sister.
"Sussie, look what I have for you," I said excitedly to my sister. "They're not even that stale."
We devoured the sandwiches rapidly.
I sat on the dirty ground, my tarpaulin spread in front of me. I had all my handmade bracelets and necklaces laid out in front of me. I made them from old bottle tops, pieces of smooth glass and anything else I found lying around.
I watched as the pretty blonde woman climbed out of her silver Mercedes. Bianca, her name was. She always chatted me and sometimes bought me food and gave me the occasional spare change. She wore big black sunglasses today.
"Hello lady. Hoegandit vandag?"* How is it going today?
She walked towards me with a bottle of Coke and a small chocolate. "These are for you, Abby." She handed me the cooldrinks, wincing as she bent.
"Thank you, thank you, Bianca," I said to her. "What's wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing, babes. Don't stress."
I noticed that she had a lot of makeup on. More than usual. "No, what happened?" I insisted.
"Robbie lost his temper again," she sheepishly shrugged, trying to pull her scarf straight. I saw straight away the swollen up eye behind the glasses, and the blue marks on her neck. "That man is a rubbish! Leave him, sister."
She looked me in the eye, and all I saw was hopelessness.
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Wow. I'm not sure how, but I darned near missed this. It's terrific. A really well written and conceived story.
Thank you. I'm glad I found it.
thanks Tom. I'm glad you enjoyed. It's strange because I was wondering around in my thoughts (I spend a lot of time up there), and I just had a single thought and I had to write it down. An hour later, I was done.
Really this is a very dramatic story, you have understood "Licentia Poetica" 🌬,@princessmewmew. 👏👍
💜💜💜
I choose as my steam witness
Amazing, thank you.
Wow! Very thought provoking. Beautifully written.
Thank you. I tried! Thought provoking is exactly what I was going for 💥
Great story, really encouraging
Hmm.. Are you sure that this short story is "encouraging" ?..
hahahahah
Watch out, this comment contains spoilers.
Weeeeel, well, well ... that was a twist ending! Since I am not a writer myself, the only feedback I can make is that I loved it!
I enjoy reading all of those shorts stories, and especially this one. @jfolkmann also makes fantastic short stories!
Thanks guy! Yes @jfolkmann does some great work 💓 I love his photo stories
Great story!
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This is how it really is... isn't it...?
Loved the South-African Dutch there ;)
And the way you write - well, it reminds me a lot of how my SA friend talks... You're the most 'colorful' people I met I think!
Loved it - obviously ... now take all my money :D
Yeah, we have our own special way. To be South African is to be colourful 🌈
Thank you!
I love your story I love the contrast of the rich and the poor I love the similarity of how they both had hopelessness in their eyes. We never know what battle someone is going through. Reminds me not to judge a book by its cover. Thank you @princessmewmew, this story was so good for my soul, keep writing, I'm a huge fan! MEWSOUP FOR THE SOUL....lol
thank you, this comment means the world. anddd MEWSOUP !!!💜💜💜
encouraging
@princessmewmew, seldom I've found stories which touch me like this, both as a writer (occasional), and as a woman (full-time).
Your text praises universal sisterly love. But besides, your narrative strategy is spotless: the transition in the fourth paragraph moves between pure magic realism and the oneiric; what follows is a mirroring tale… I/She looked into her/my eyes and—all I—saw only hopelessness. This sentence opens and closes the circle.
Round dazzling tale. I really loved it. Thanks!
Oh thank you. This is great feedback. I appreciate it
Wow! This is a powerful multi-POV story. Well written!
thank you so much. it just came out of a single thought and blossomed so prettily.
you copy this post from @peter81 :
🌱Hope - A Short Story 🌱