Saturday's Storyteller: "People inevitably get to a point where they believe things can never get worse. As so often happens, people are wrong."
by Belinda Roddie
"People inevitably get to a point where they believe things can never get worse. As so often happens, people are wrong."
He's hovering over a burning trash can as he says this, warming his hands in the ashes. The coat he's wearing was my mother's, muffled with faux fox fur. I gave it to him because it was the only thing I had on me. I was going to donate it to a thrift store.
Still, I don't see him get much worse than this. I ask him if death is worse. He shakes his head. He gives a typical answer. I don't know whether I should feel sorry for him or not.
On the way home, I stop to get a croissant. It tastes dry instead of buttery, like pastry dust in my mouth. As I clear my throat with coffee, I take a look at the trash bin outside. It's as cold as ice. The beggar has gone off like a fox in faux fur. And I await the downfall.
The prompt for this week's Storyteller was provided by "Invictus."
"People inevitably get to a point where they believe things can never get worse. As so often happens, people are wrong."
He's hovering over a burning trash can as he says this, warming his hands in the ashes. The coat he's wearing was my mother's, muffled with faux fox fur. I gave it to him because it was the only thing I had on me. I was going to donate it to a thrift store.
Still, I don't see him get much worse than this. I ask him if death is worse. He shakes his head. He gives a typical answer. I don't know whether I should feel sorry for him or not.
On the way home, I stop to get a croissant. It tastes dry instead of buttery, like pastry dust in my mouth. As I clear my throat with coffee, I take a look at the trash bin outside. It's as cold as ice. The beggar has gone off like a fox in faux fur. And I await the downfall.
The prompt for this week's Storyteller was provided by "Invictus."
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