The likely hood of a penny was good, if the person cared enough to go through the extreme effort it took stuff their tiny hand into a pocket and remove a coin. Generally it wasn't though so the only consistent sounds were those of footsteps and a silent cup. The concrete ignored its presence just like the people who streamed by in a persistent flow of freakish ignorance. No one seemed to care or even notice the figure hunched against the wall.
Persistence could be considered a positive attribute for most people, but now it felt like more of a death sentence. The persistent failure to produce any meaningful outcome from the daily effort of asking for money, asking for food, asking for help had left a gaping hole in what used to be hope. The mere act of dumpster diving caused a certain level of PTSD, the memory of the good times that seem like such distant memories. Those memories felt like daggers to it's heart and mind and only helped to further isolate.
The shelter was a joke. The same group of assholes constantly attempting and succeeding to rape, beat, or buy the new meat. The first time it happens it scars, but the subsequent times just further increased the layers of tough thick skin that build up to protect the mind and psyche. Fighting more often than not leads to a worse outcome than giving in and excepting the situation for what it is, fleeting.
Everyone will tell you that the end is easy to find but the bottom is a moving target that never seems to stay in one spot, always just out of reach. If the bottom could only be reached, that would mean it is an end and a beginning and the healing could begin, but the well had a gravity that pulled into the abyss.
The dumpsters had become its friend in a love hate relationship. The refuse represented the discarded dreams of the rich and affluent. The childrens' toys, still in the box, those were the real treasures as they could be sold instantly or traded for the necessities. The never ending transfer of wealth was not what the world thinks it is, but rather the reuse of the discarded effects of the rich. The unseen people are left to "have" the forgotten and unseen.
This is written for The Creative Writing Challenge - Task #4 put on by @steemfluencer. The details of the task are as follows.
Develop a story contrasting the way people spend their money.
Example 1: rich kids/poor kids
Example 2: people spending $50,000 for a night in Las Vegas and African families who can't afford spending money on a >mosquito net they desperately need (because the lack of that item is one of the main reasons for malaria epidemics).Please use your imagination, because this task has no bounadies and you can let your imagination go wild. Think of your >task as a mission. Your mission is to inspire thousands of people to take a look around, start thinking more about their >spending habits and actually open their eyes for other people's pains.
There are thousands of options again and this is another opportunity for you to show the best of yourself.
Check out my blog @flemingfarm
OR
You can read my blog series here:
| Time | #1.0 - Back Pain |
| Expectations | #2.0 - Weeds |
| Patience | #3.0 - Pests - Gophers |
Fleming Family Farm
FLEMING FAMILY FARM, LLC
Sustainable & Organic Methods | Heirloom Produce
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