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The Unloved Woman
A sad tale about the life of a homeless person, people we often forget.
I'm almost seventeen and doing my exams. I really want to be a writer, hey, we all gotta have a dream!
|AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (1)
Bruising (Short Stories) Strange tale, make of it what you will - I was in a weird mood when I wrote it. [506 words] [Suspense]
The Unloved Woman
It was a cold, cold night and the velvet sky was dyed jet black.The icy wind sliced through stone and skin alike with its sickeningly sharp blade.
No one heeded. Wrapped in furs and wools and thick cotton, no one heeded the unbearably cold weather. It was the shopping season, Christmas would soon be upon us and city shops blazed from within their triple glazed glass windows. The sounds of good cheer echoed against the walls and bounced off the snowy ground beneath the thick soles of boots.
Laughter did little to warm the beggar woman's soul. Her heart was as numb as her blue fingertips, her heart as cold as her surrounding environment. An ectotherm.
She was slumped against the corner of one such merry street, just outside a new fancy toyshop, a beautiful glittering emblem of hope and happiness. Not for the begger woman. She grey and withered, her eyes red then white in turns, where they had once been a wondrous lilac. Her hair, once a much admired golden sheath, was now dark grey with dirt and age. Her hands were gnarled pieces of wood. They no longer obeyed her. Neither did her mouth, drawn in through lack of food and water. She was an empty vessel. Her feelings, thoughts, wishes, everything that made her human, gone. They had vanished as she had become forgotten. She was all but forgotten now.
"Oh excuse me," A tall man with a huge beard and grin on his face, when he saw the woman he had bumped into, saw it was just a beggar woman, the smile vanished. "You shouldn't be out here."
The beggar woman's heart swelled. Somebody cared! Somebody wanted her to live.
"I think I'll ask the police to move you on. I'm not sure you're at all good for business."
And the cold returned, hate and then even that emotion gone....gone....everything ever loved gone.
"What is it Patrick?" A bold woman with brassy blonde curls and a beaming smile on her face grabbed the bearded man's elbow.
"This woman, she's causing an obstruction."
The brassy blonde looked at the woman and sniffed her little nose distastefully. Then she changed her expression to one of sheer horror.
"Oh Patrick, it's terribly frightening, women like that. She might have been like me at some point. Young and beautiful, with a handsome young man."
And remembering, the beggar woman smiled a toothless smile. Oh how she remembered. Her own hansdsome man, having to fight off other men, for she was that young and that beautiful.
"Don't worry about that Felicity, you'll never end up like that."
And the beggar woman experienced great pity for poor Felicity, for that was what her own handsome man had said, before he'd left her for his even more beautiful and younger secretary and left her drowning in a pool of debt and self-hatred.
"Won't I?" Felicity asked, and for a second seemed to have heard the beggar woman's thoughts, for she did look genuinely frightened this time.
The beggar woman felt her heart freeze cold again. This time it didn't regain warmth, it stopped stopping everything in time, the shoppers, Patrick, Felicity, calling and calling for help that would never come. Life which was over before it could have been saved.
Nobody noticed her die. Not Felicity, wrapped up in her own thoughts and doubts. Not Patrick, still pondering over whether to call the police or not, after all, it was the holidays. Not the shoppers, with their hearts full of family and their eyes full of happiness and greed. Nobody.
|READER'S REVIEWS (9)
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"the imagery in the story is very good. I hope you fulfill your dream of becoming a writer" -- Nikky Epperly.
"Bravo... I was filled with the spirit of this character and she kept me with her in the cold until the "end". Extremely brilliant... I wonder if you have anything published?" -- D. G. Williford.
"Usually titles this short don't capture or engage me but you manage to that early on with this. Well done." -- J L Watts, UK.
"A very intriquing story Emmie, left your readers with what it must be like to really be alone, out in the cold, with no one to love you enough to even notice your own death! Your close clinch it with one word "Nobody". Great write! Keep em coming!" -- Monte.
"Thanks for all your lovely praise it's really appreciated and keeps up the motivation to build on all those beginnings of ideas that form in your head. Thanks especially for all the time you've taken to make your reviews detailed, D.G. Williford - I've not been published yet but I hope to be someday, thank you all for your kindness, Emmie!!!" -- Emmie Sinclair.
"The imagery was great and you really captured the spirit of the character you were trying to portray. " -- Maggie, chicago, IL.
"Too many cliche's to start with. Watch your sentence construction. The dialogue is straight out of a bad 1920's B movie. People DO NOT talk like this. Keep writing. At home. In a journal. Get a teacher to check it out and be ruthlessly honest. Then return with something original and crisp. Sorry, no pity for the beggar woman,' no pity for you. Keep trying. " -- dee sleng.
"Wow! Very moving. Desolate. Well done." -- kAREN, BUCKSPORT, ME, United States.
"Oh, and you ARE A WRITER. Writers write. Keep going, you're good." -- Karen, BUCKSPORT, ME, United States.
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© 2003 Emmie Sinclair
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