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Choices
Contributed by girltranscended
on Monday, 11th April 2005 @ 12:28:37 AM AEST
Topic:
fictiongeneral
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When she stepped on the train it was a quarter past one in the morning and it smelled old and unclean, like the bum slumped forward in the front seat. He wore a heavy plaid jacket and a beat up red cap hung from his forehead to his nose. The only possession that she could see was an empty, yellow coffee mug, and it looked like it had just tumbled from his right hand.
Nora slid into one of the plastic seats on the opposite side of the car, one that faced him. What came first, she thought to herself, the weird smell in here or that bum? Well it didn’t matter much; he was just another sleepy passenger who, like most folks, didn’t pay her any attention at all. She was that kind of girl.
She had brown hair and skin that disappeared into the dark paneling, and no dazzling eyes or pout lips to speak of. She was not fat, not thin, not too tall or too short. Her style of dress was mediocre at best, and she had a face, that if you happened to glance at once, you often never found a reason to return.
But her mother had been very kind to her, and her words traveled a well-worn path through Nora’s head on a daily basis. “You have a gift.” her mother used to say to her, with a sideways and knowing smile, “A very special gift my dear.”
It was those words that kept her head held high, and she tended the spark that was left of her mother like a tiny little fire in the woods. It was why she was unafraid to ride the train so late at night, and even why she liked that people couldn’t see her power. Like these jokers, she thought, as two teenage thugs boarded the train, beers in hand.
They spotted the bum first and started laughing, an evil look-at-this-fool kind of chuckle. One poured some beer onto his head as they passed, and the other just kept laughing. They took seats on the side where Nora was sitting but hadn’t made eye contact. When the first bottle was empty, the guy with the football jacket dropped it to the floor, and let it roll away.
Nora wondered if they would ever notice her, and with that thought, as if they could read her mind, they both turned to look at her. They had dumb drunk-white-boy looks on their faces and she couldn’t exactly tell what they were thinking, until football star said, “Hey, a live one.” His buddy grumbled an agreement and they got up in unison and started walking towards her, now eerily quiet.
“What are you doing here baby?” the talkative one continued. He was hovering above her, and she noticed that the large hand that steadied him lacked the wiry hairs of manhood.
“Leave me alone” she said matter-of-factly.
“Ohhhh” they breathed out laughing, too macho to believe she was serious.
But she was. She had seen his saliva now, and it was too much, Mr. Football had the white-nasty in the corners of his mouth. And he was crowding her with his stupid sewage. Their intoxicated existence and the shear heat they exuded made her sick. They should move away now.
Inside something was stirring, a mother’s steady protection or a daughter’s secret weapon. She would get them away, if he moved towards her again. And there it was, right on cue, in slow motion his body, knees bent, was swinging around the seat in front of her, and heading to her side. She picked up the bum’s yellow coffee cup and hurled it at Johnny Football, from the direction of his buddy, with her mind. But it hit him non-the-less, good and hard like a ceramic cup can do, and it hadn’t come from her, really.
He jumped up and sent blood whipping down and out. He clumped away from her, brewing, set on a new target.
The clink of glass on metal told Nora right where in the sandy creepy depths of the car floor, a beer bottle was rolling. With her hands at her side she picked it up for good measure, but then couldn’t resist another hurl. The bum wasn’t even awake yet.
This one hit Buddy on the bone just above his eye, and landed, with a pop on the floor. His hands grabbed for his face and everything went white. They both stood there, dumbfounded and dizzy. Had that come from her?
Suddenly, neither of them could take their eyes off of her. The unassuming thugs were suddenly assuming. And just then the annoying pitch of the brakes filled the air, in a couple seconds the door opened. And when it did, Football and Buddy scurried out like rats.
Nora made a mental slapping of the hands, a job well done. A sideways knowing smile came across her face. I guess that was their stop.
Soon after when she got up to leave, she noticed the bum’s red cap was in his hands. He was wringing it slightly and staring almost straight through her soul. What did he find there?
As she began to step towards him, her mind took the yellow cup from the floor and slid it into his right hand. She had somehow even managed to put the only thing of worth she carried into that cup. It was a picture of her mother.
And when Nora passed from his life, back onto the streets, she winked at him, because in a couple minutes he would read what was written on the back of that photograph, penned by her mother’s loving hand.
You have a gift,
You can do anything.
Copyright © girltranscended
... [2005-04-1112:28:37]
(Date/Time posted on site)
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Re: The Gift
(User Rating: 1)
by blowfish_jane on Wednesday, 13th April 2005 @ 03:04:35 AM AEST
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What a wonderful write, you have clearly thought this through.
The imagery you wrote was utterly fascinating this was really good, I’m glad I got to read it.
Jane
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Re: The Gift
(User Rating: 1)
by Ninnyfarfar on Monday, 2nd May 2005 @ 03:12:51 PM AEST
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very well written, i enjoyed your story very much. and you are right, you can do anything!
Ninny |
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Re: The Gift
(User Rating: 1)
by Supergurl1071 on Saturday, 7th May 2005 @ 04:11:14 PM AEST
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Very good! I'm impressed with the detail, you paint a really good picture with your words and I can almost see the events happening. Keep up the good work! |
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