Started Small

By: Jena Isle


Left!

Right!


Left!

Right!

I commanded my bare feet to keep running.

My footsteps echoed ominously in the deserted, asphalted street. Rivulets of sweat were trickling down my grimy face; down my eyes, marring my vision.

Just one more corner and I'll be safe. Please God, if you're really out there, just this once, help me!

"Over here," an angry voice startled me. I could hear their footsteps closing in, from the distance.

I made one, last turn and there it was - my sanctuary! I lifted the small window, wiggled my way through the small opening, and tumbled unceremoniously down the cold, damp floor below.

My sore muscles groaned as I rolled over to cushion the impact of my fall. I tried to catch my breath as I lay down there winded.

Just then, a voice above me thundered, "Where has he gone?"

"Go on, down the street, he might manage to escape."

There was a shuffle.

"Wait, there's an opened window here..."

I cringed as his voice came from the small opening where I had slipped in minutes ago.

" I can't see a thing, do you have a light?'

"Here,” I heard the second man speak in a guttural voice.

I held my breath and waited for the moment of discovery.

There was a tiny flicker of light above me. My teeth were chattering so badly, I was afraid they could hear it.

"How am I supposed to see with a lighter?' the first man was definitely irked.

"Hey, come on, he couldn't possibly slip in there, it's too dark and high. Can't you hear the rats scampering? He would be screaming in pain and fright right now, if he did."

I kept still with my head resting on the concrete, damp floor. I willed my body to stop trembling. The rats skittered around in confusion, disturbed by my intrusion.

"We have to be sure! These pesky snatchers should be given a lesson."

The man attempted to bring the lighter farther down the window, but it was extinguished before he could do so.

The man cursed and stomped his feet in frustration. "If I see that wee shite - I'm going to waste him."

"I don't think he's down there, c'mon," the younger voice called out.

These men were out to grind me into tiny morsels of useless meat, ready to cook and be gobbled up for their party.


There was a grunt as the second man finally stood up, and I could hear the sound of their running footsteps fading away in the stillness of the night.

I slumped in relief and would have laughed out loud if I had the strength, but I was like a deflated balloon.

I remained supine for a few minutes and basked in the feeling of freedom.


I should thank my "rat friends". They were as unruly as ever. They never bit me though; perhaps they recognized me by my smell. We share the same stink I believe, there was no water to be able to take a daily bath.

But I have an advantage over them; I took long luxurious baths in Armando’s bath tub, whenever I came up with a "find" (our code word for stolen goods), while they wallowed in this dilapidated room, day in and day out.

Armando was our big boss. We all reported to him whenever we had a "find".

"Use your eyes, " he would goad us. "There are many out there. Be sure you won't get caught!"

Sometimes, when one of us got unlucky, Armando would be in the police precinct in a jiffy. They called him "cap" in that police station and saluted him. I wonder why they did as he had never worn a police uniform.

Almost always they released whoever was caught; after Armando had a drinking spree with them.

My friends and I were scared of Armando because he was enormous and had an ugly, angry scar on his right cheek. The oldest of our group was 12, but he never challenged Armando. We all knew he was our savior! He provided us a roof over our heads and food when we didn't have any "find." I was the youngest of the lot at 9 and I was also the skinniest but the most voracious.

I don't know why my small stomach needed so much food, I was always hungry. Whenever I asked an additional piece of bread from Armando he would snap at me; "Sell more plastic bags and get your "find". When you do, you can eat up to your heart's content."

I chose my clients very well. Those overly-dressed people who scorned at me and cursed me; "Get away from me you stinking rat," and I was just asking for some spare change to buy food.

I had sold only five plastic bags today and what I earned, could only buy me a piece of candy. I and my friends would sniff "rugby" to forget our hunger pangs. People used rugby as a glue but we utilized it as a drug. We would pour small portions of it in a plastic bag and inhale it until we felt numb and no longer feel our stomachs growling.

It was during times like these, that mother's memories assailed me: "Always remember the Golden Rule," she had said and although I was skeptical of it, I tried hard to observe this tenet. It was harder to believe in it when mother passed away.

The pain of my loss had grown hazy now, just a dull gnawing stab of nostalgia whenever I recall my moments with her.

Mother died when a speeding truck hit her in the middle of the road. The heartless driver did not even bother to stop. Father died a month later, some helpful neighbors had helped me out with his burial.

The owner of the shack we were renting had asked me to vacate the place, right after I came from the cemetery. I pleaded with him to feed me and provide lodging and I would be his humble and loyal servant but, “I don't trust you a bit, go find somewhere else to stay," he snarled at me.

My neighbors were in the same miserable, indigent state as I was, so there was no help for food and lodging from that corner. Their shanties were not enough to house their own big families - much more to feed them.

So I sold whatever belongings were left and came up with a small amount to buy food for several days until it was gone, pffft...nada… and I was forced to join the street children.

Now my body has grown warmer. I would have to stay for the night here. Those men would still be scouring the streets.


I moved to the farthest corner of the room where I cannot be seen from the window and rested my head on a box.

Slowly I opened my hand to reveal the gleaming bracelet. It was an 18 carat gold! Armando would be proud of me!


Tomorrow, I will have a luxurious, warm bath in his tub and will be clean shaven.

Buying a new pair of slippers is a wonderful idea too, and clothes to match.

I'm certain no one would recognize me in my spanking new haircut, grease-free face, and respectable appearance.

I really look forward to tomorrow!

And by the way, my name is Miguelito!

Photo 1 by René Ehrhardt

This is reposted from an article published last January.
( I am thinking of expanding it to a novelette).

FREE PICTURES - The Kalinga Kid

Julia Ward's - Poetry Friday

Julia Ward of a Blinding Heart has a recent post of poems from different authors in her blog.

Julia is a great poet herself. She wrote one splendid poem for the post.

I read this from her About me Page and I can't help but post it here:

Biography (By Julia Ward)

"I found myself alone in an Emergency Room last year. I couldn't hear the shouting or even my own breathing as they pulled me onto a gurney with cold white sheets. My heart had been stabbed by a screaming white light that tore through me like a lazer. When my heart stopped, all I wanted was to see the dazzling red dragonfly that sat motionless in the palm of my hand so many summers ago.

I live now with a blinding heart, not sure when the jerky, tortured rythm will stop.

Lightning can not kill me.

My soul has been stripped clean of my former self. My soul drifting like a leaf in a dark stream.

I am no longer able to paint. My music is slow and tortured. I thought I could write, just ask the neighbor's cat.

Perhaps it would be better if you just listened for a while. At least until the storms come and the lightning chases me off the porch."

julia ward

Other poems are from:

Francis Scudellari, the poet, writer and the quintessential artist has written one superb poem too. He has a main site FrancisScudellari.com , which features all his creative works. It is one awesome site you would not like to miss. Read his interesting short stories and marvel at his brilliant poems and sketches/drawings.

Zorlone - a new, but fast rising poet and writer has also contributed a number of poems. His poems are highly ranked at Helium.com. He also writes for Triond.com and his blog is gaining readers and visitors at a phenomenal speed (19 followers within a span of less than 3 months). This is because his poems speak from the heart and soul.

And of course, yours truly.

Visit Julia's site, and contribute too, to her Poetry Friday.

Was Love Meant to Last Forever?

By Jena Isle

“Will you marry me?” he asked breathlessly. Her smile was like the sun breaking through the darkened sky.

“Yes,“ she said, and their hungry lips met to seal their undying love for each other.

What a wonderful love story!

I closed the book and stared dreamily at its cover. There were two figures blissfully entwined in a tight embrace.

Alas! I sighed. Real life stories usually do not have “happily-ever-after” endings. Broken families around me were enough proof of that. I would rather fantasize about my “knight –in shining armor” through the novels that I read than be part of the drama in real life.

July 01, 2000:

Life is one big irony; however, for on this day, I said goodbye to being single. I understood then what lovers meant when they said that “Smoke gets in your eyes” or that “Love is blind.” Indeed, I was so madly and deeply in love with Jayson, that I opted to be “blind” to the uncertainties of the future and was willing to “cross the seven seas” for him. So on this glorious day, we exchanged marriage vows and it was the start of a new life for me.

August 23, 2004:

God had blessed us with two bubbly kids: a boy and a girl. They had their father’s chinky eyes, thick eyebrows, obstinate nose; each complemented all the other facial features to almost perfection. I was thankful they got nothing from my plain looks.

As I had forseen, married life was a bed of roses - with countless thorns. It entailed lots of sacrifices: I was expected to do all the countless household chores even if I had an 8 to 5 daytime job: in the office –piles of paperwork , screaming deadlines, tumultuous meetings; then when I went home – smelly diapers, baby tantrums, sleepless nights and many more. There were also times that I would have to tolerate my husband’s behavior. When he came home from a drinking spree with his comrades in uniform, I would patiently sponge his body with lukewarm water. These were all the sprinkles of salt that had made my married life more meaningful. I had no complaints because I knew these were all part of the package.

June 03, 2006:

Life though had so much more in store for me, for on this fateful day, I sat staring dazedly at the phone. I tried to control the spasms of sobs that rose to my throat. We had three kids by then and they were joyously romping with their father in the backyard. I thought my Calvary was over when Jayson was acquitted from a “robbery case” and was eventually reinstated in the military service a year before, but how wrong I was! Here was another tempest about to wreak havoc in my family.

“Jayson told me that we’ll be together soon,” she had purred into the phone. “A few more years perhaps, until your youngest is of an age to understand.”

I believed her then, for she had known a secret which I had always thought, only I and Jayson knew about.

I did not have enough courage to confront Jayson. What I knew was that I still loved him with the same intensity, after all the years that had passed. Did he still love me? I wanted to ask him then but whenever I started to do so, my eyes would brim with tears and a lump in my throat would choke my words. So, whenever he caught me teary-eyed, I made plausible excuses.

“We are on red alert. I won’t be coming home tonight, please go to sleep early,” he would say, during the nights he was not able to come home.
I convinced myself that he was telling the truth, but now and then I would catch a whiff of a woman’s perfume on his shirt.

The kids were unaware of my Calvary, however. They adored their father and he loved them in return, that I wallowed alone in my misery. I consoled myself by reading the Holy Bible. “Love beareth all things…”

September 18, 2006:

During the past two years, my heart became numb with pain from the constant calls of his mistress. I suffered in silence, ignoring his late –nights out, his missing shirts, and the indications of his infidelity. My love for him and our children was greater than my pain. You may call me a fool, but the happiness of my children was foremost in my mind.

But that day, the woman called, “We will be starting a business, do you want to be our guest?”

A nerve snapped in my head and that did it! I had had enough of this BS!

When he came home that night, I confronted him and had hoped to high heavens, that he would deny my accusations, but all I got was the silence of acceptance. I pounced at him when he attempted to take me in his arms and snarled vicious words at him in my anger.

That night after the kids slept, I slept in a different room for the first time. I prayed so hard for divine guidance. God help me to be strong!
When morning came, Jayson acted as if nothing happened and I joined his charade in front of the children.

December 24, 2007:

My husband urged our youngest son to light the Christmas candle. We all cheered when it exploded into a kaleidoscope of colors.

“Happy new year!” Jayson kissed and hugged me tightly.

Our children trooped to kiss and hug us both.

I gazed happily at the family that I had fought tooth and nails to keep whole. I thank my lucky stars my love for them was great enough to weather the storms that had crossed our path. I thank God for making me realize that the painful events that occurred were just some of the crosses I have to carry stoically, for they will all come to pass.

It was difficult at first to forgive Jayson when he had pleaded for forgiveness. He realized that he had to choose between his family and his mistress and that he could not have both.

We had moved to another town to start anew , and it was all worth it. The woman attempted to call Jayson several times through his cell phone, but he ignored it. He decided to change his number when it was evident, she would not stop. She was an ardent pursuer –that woman! Any man could fall into her claws just because of her persistence. I thank God, we were able to evade her venomous reach.

Happily- ever- after endings do happen in real life. It takes TRUE LOVE, understanding, and forgiveness to be able to achieve it.

I’m happily snuggled up with my husband right now, as I write the draft of this story. He’s contentedly watching our children opening their gifts.

Indeed true love was meant to last FOREVER!

I would like to acknowledge the efforts of Jean Knill of Jean's Musings for this story. Thanks Jean.
Photo 1 by victoriapeckham
Photo 2 by Peter Giger
Photo 3 by notsogoodphotography

A SPHINX PICTURE FROM JEAN OF JEAN'S MUSINGS

This picture was generously shared by Jean of Jean's Musings from her recent travel to Egypt. The Blogosphere is a good world to be in with people like her. May her tribe increase! Thanks Jean.

Patricia Rockwell's Response to my Query

PATRICIA ROCKWELL, author of the blogs COMMUNICATION EXCHANGE and SUBJECTIVE SOUP has responded kindly to my question and request for a post on ONLINE EDUCATION and its benefits and drawbacks.

Patricia is retired now and has been a professor at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette and the Northern Illinois University.

Her expertise in the field of education and communication has provided her with appropriate credentials to speak on topics such as Online Education and communication. She writes about a lot of topics under the sun, e.g. entertainment (Dancing with Warren Buffet), medical related articles, girl chat and many more. She does not only pen formal and academic papers but also has a creative venture - a novel, Sound of Murder, which she completed in the month of November for NaNoWriMo .

She writes too for Helium and Associated Content and has a book for sale entitled: Sarcasm and Other Mixed Messages: The Ambiguous Ways People Use Language .

Due to these, I had nominated her to the Blogger's Choice 09 Awards for Best in Education Blog. Kindly click this link to vote for her.

Visit her blog and read various, interesting topics that could be very useful and relevant to you.

Thanks Patricia and all the best!