EVERY TIME THE REEDS TWITCHED, Josh
half-started, half-rose from the cold concrete bench, but it was only wind
gusting over the fens. He waited for Nikko to come out. He didn’t understand
exactly what Nikko and the other man were doing in the tall grass, but he knew
enough that it made him feel sick in his stomach. He wanted to go home, but Nikko
said they did not have enough money to get home. In one week he would raise
enough money to get the bus back. One more week. It was his fault, for selling the guitar.
They had left the Holiday Inn at two in the morning, stuffing the blanket into a garbage bag, taking the soap, the thin face cloths and towels, the plastic cups. Nikko took him to an underpass and they built a nest—that was the only way Josh could describe it in his head—with the blanket and wood planks and a cardboard box scavenged from an alley.
Josh stared at the single yellow
crocus pushing through mulch. Spring was coming. That was what Nikko said before
the man came and they went into the fens. Spring.
The reeds whistled in the wind. A snowflake fell on
the Josh’s cheek. He shivered, and waited.
***
The 15th installment of THE RUNAWAY, a very long chapter in THE MINISTER'S WIFE, my novel under construction. To read more, go HERE. And, as always--thank you for reading my words! Peace...
Oh no. It's just so sad and helpless.
ReplyDeleteJai
I agree that this one felt helpless, and just about hopeless. Will change blow in on that wind?
ReplyDeleteDark, getting darker. And if change blows in, which way will it blow?
ReplyDeletePS: I am loving this, which my comment may not have made clear. I am not entirely comfortable, but I am certainly coming along for the ride.
DeleteEven before the snowflake I could feel the cold. You pull such feeling with your words.
ReplyDeleteThis sounds so lonely and sad and cold and lonely...
Delete