The Beggar

1. An awakening

The air, cold, paints over the hair on my arms, leaving the skin dry and rigid. 

My hands are trembling, but not from the wind that grates across my knuckles. I open my eyes to look down at my hands. Bruised, filthy, tormented hands. They grieve and ache of loss.

I have not seen another human in months. How many, I’m not sure. The clock makers have abandoned this wretched word, leaving all who have survived, to a timeless echo of the past. No future, no hope.

Hope is a beggar my father would have said in a moment like this. He’s not here though.

It seems that no one is. As familiar as this loneliness is, I find it difficult to comprehend its finality, that I, strange and unusual, would have been the only person to survive such darkness. But what have I ever known of the light.

2. The Light

It was a locket, heart shaped, silver and cold. She picked it up off the edge of the porcelain sink, she placed it there the night before where she washed her face before bed. Gracefully she put it back on, opened the locket and gazed at it for a moment. She smiled, her heart began to beat so hard you could see the pulse in her neck where the chain to the locket met her collarbone. Also crossing her collarbone was the scalloped edges of her nightgown, a gentle linen gown too classic to be modern. Hardly a modern woman, and certainly not a post modern one either. She craved classical thoughts and never humored irony. The cynical were, in her eyes, like children, crying for solace after seeing their own shadows dance across the bedroom, illuminated from a full moon just outside. 

There were no more shadows though. No post modern men acting like children. It was Just her. She stoped counting the days long ago, even before the power went out and the world went silent. There was never any understanding as to why chaos tore down civilization, or if this was even a global even or not. But there were no planes or no birds. Still, she knew, chaos is only ever the beginning.

3. The Beggar

I could smell fire in the distance. Looking around I was able to spot where it was coming from. A half a days hike at least. I had to move fast if I was going to make it before dark. They could be friendly or un friendly, it made no difference, I had no desire to emerge from the darkness in my introduction. 

I arrived at sunset to a barren suburban neighborhood and what seem to be a mostly lifeless home, except for the smoke exiting the fireplace. I braved to walk up to the front door, knock and introduce myself out loud. 

A calm confident woman opened the door. I was in disbelief. I didn’t even have the words. She could tell I’ve been struggling to get by. Torn clothes, dirty, absolutely unkept, my appearance alone pleaded for help. 

She stepped all the way out and sat on a bench on her well kept front porch. Her hand gently signaled to the space next to her, inviting me to sit. With a gentle approach, as not to startle her, I softly sat by her. She was obviously un alarmed. I was clearly shaken though. The first sight of another human in a long time. I felt like a wild dog skeptical and silent and she knew it. 

After a moment of silence. She took her heart shaped locket off and handed it to me. She told me there was no need to be afraid anymore and told me to open the locket. I looked down at my weathered hands holding this beautiful silver heart. The contrast felt like hope. Carefully I opened it. My eyes suddenly began to water, my heart began to race. I stood up sharply, as though I was called to action, but was quickly betrayed by my knees, as they collapsed beneath me, dropping me to the floor. I began to sob, No longer afraid of the shadows.