Charity

 

The homeless man was reluctant, years of abuse and complete disassociation had damned his eyes and turned him into a person unwilling to accept any sort of gesture. The two people still in front of him, faces gleaming like they were the happiest fucking people God shit out.

“It would only be for a night sir, if you really feel uncomfortable, but it’s cold and we just think it would be nice company.”

The man did not look dangerous, the woman he was with, maybe mid-twenties, wore a styling new pea coat over her small frame with the black pants to match. A red scarf, glistening with the flakes of snow reflecting the streetlight off, looked almost majestic to Harvey. The woman kneels down next to Harvey, her leather boots squeak , the noise sends a shiver through Harvey. She places her hand on his face, rough skin, years of decay, all covered by his gray beard. She strokes the side of his face, gently.

“It would mean so much to me.”

Like an angel she spoke. The cool bursts of her mint gum somehow relaxed Harvey.

His hand meets hers extended, Harvey leaves with the couple.

Interstate 70. Westbound. 5:16 p.m. July 30th 1997

Smoke, screams, the air wreaks of exhaust fumes and agony. Fifteen destroyed cars, twenty-eight destroyed lives. A Chevrolet lay off to the side, no longer discernible from anything other than a twisted creation of blood and metal. A man runs around the car, back and forth, one hand clutches the fresh gash on his head, a large abrasion on the left side of his head, but the blood only works its way around his fingers, pooling down the side of his face, leaving the man with little energy for basic thought. The man struggled to find a way into the car, now almost completely in flames. The screams coming from inside, still prevalent, a woman, an infant. The man can do nothing. The paramedics arrive within five minutes of the first call. Harvey’s family is burned alive in two.

For the first time in thirteen years Harvey saw the snow as being something to appreciate, not to fear. The usual signal of winter, the hardest times. Where the fuck am I going to sleep? Where the fuck am I going to get food? Being robbed of your possessions by the other animals on the streets. Total chaos. The destruction of a person.

The couple walked on each side of Harvey, her on the left. She takes his arm, cradling it, and leans her head up against his shoulder. A smile on her face that was just the finishing touch of beauty to the pleasant winter environment.

“You smoke?”

“Smoke what? I don’t mess around with that street shit if that’s what you mean.”

Amused, the man pulls out his pack of Chesterfield’s and offers one up to his new friend.

“Oh, yeah, yes thank you.”

To continue reading Charity, you must

buy the book Morning Stories

Tagged with  
, , ,

6 thoughts on “Charity

  1. fucking good story, you creepy bastard. lets play zelda sometime and get nerdy.

  2. Hell yeah boy. And thanks for the compliment.

  3. Out-fucking-standing my dear sir. The end was completely sickening glorious fun to read. The detail’s made me shiver. I felt the knife in my gums, grinding against my teeth. So, one last time just to say it. Out-fucking-standing!

  4. Have to agree with the above! The ending pretty much caught me off guard there.. i’ma miss Harvey, he seemed pretty awesome.

  5. Wow, this story is fucked up! But in a good way, a creative way. I love how the ending was so unexpected! Those people remind me of The Devil’s Rejects a bit; this is some shit they would be into.

  6. Interested in reading the rest. Are you switching from present and past tense on purpose?

Leave a Reply