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Early Holiday Cheer?

Uploaded by Staindspikez on Oct 20, 2001

“Mommy, I’m hungry,” I yelped from the depths of my frost infested throat. “Mommy, I want some food,” I demanded as I vigorously pointed at my throat. My mother pulled the crumbling, mold-stained half-slice of bread from her mouth, her teeth imprints remaining where she had begun to gnaw at the flaking, green crust. She took my hands from my mouth and cupped them so I would not drop any of the olive drab dough.

The rotting smell of the bread was masked by the fumes pouring from the towers of the factories that lingered overhead. The vapors rising from the drains flooded the area with the putrid smells of the warm sewage clashing with the chilled air of the streets. The bread was smothered with the taste of soil that had probably lined the sides of the garbage can for months, or at least a couple of weeks. This, combined with the remains of various insects that had once resided in the festering piles of waste, made for an appetizing meal. The mound of dough found its way to the bottom of my stomach and hit with a devastating splash, sending my previous meal back to the surface and all over myself. It was the best meal I had eaten in a month.

My mother wiped my mouth with the excess of the scarlet scarf that concealed her neck.

“Mommy, you’re pretty,” I told her, hoping to see her smile. Of course, she did. Her chapped, cracking brick red lips curled at the corners as her eyes fell into that sunken lull of drunken happiness. Mother had such a warm, beautiful smile. I loved it. She cuddled me into her arms, covered my face with her scarf, and kissed my forehead. Ten years old and living on the streets was the best I could ever ask for.

The next morning arrived with the half-sun over the horizon and the shards of ice falling from the building above me. Mother was gone again. It was the usual thing. I never knew where she went in the mornings, but she always returned. I was left to spend the day at home. What I knew as breakfast was nothing but the leftovers of the previous night.

I put my hand into my pocket, hoping to find some crust or even crumbs from that wonderful bread. As I searched through my pocket, I found nothing but the...

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Uploaded by:   Staindspikez

Date:   10/20/2001

Category:   Creative Writing

Length:   7 pages (1,674 words)

Views:   1658

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