Wednesday, October 5, 2011

On Her Way to Somewhere...A Wink of Fiction

Here's another Wink of Fiction. The theme for this week's Wink of Fiction is, there's a story around every corner. Literally, in this case. I decided to write about a photo taken from my husband's smart phone while he was in town one day last week. He emailed it to me. As an artist, I look at this photo and see character & story. Many stories. Here is what comes to mind as I first glanced at this photo. Hope you enjoy!

On Her Way to Somewhere

She is just passing through on her way to nowhere, somewhere, everywhere. Hundreds of people see her everyday, but she sees no one. Hears no one, except the voices in her head, telling her this and that. There are so many voices now, she cannot name them all. They come and go freely, like a crowded mental expressway.

She feels content when the good ones are around, but the bad ones, they make her do mean things. Like spitting on the sidewalk, throwing her cigarette butts on the ground, stealing from others, breaking into buildings to pee or even peeing in the street. The bad ones tell her not to care what others think. There is a young one who sings her a sweet lullaby every night when she closes her eyes.

She puffs on the cigarette she stole from the construction worker.  Finders keepers. He shouldn't have left his pack on the bench.

She pops a squat in the middle of a parking lot. This is a fine place to read a bit of Sparks. Oh, how I love me a good love story. The Notebook. Could of been me, except my husband walked out on me all because I was sick. Dirtbag.

Hmph! Well, I will sit right here and smoke my stolen cigarettes until the police kick me out of here. I will put up a stinky fight though. I sure will. Hadn't showered in over two weeks. And, I wish this dern hospital wristband would come off.

What's that? Hush now, child. The mean one's coming, and you know how she likes to boss us around. You rest, I'll wake you later.

"Excuse me, ma'am? You can't sit here. This is a parking lot. You'll get yourself run over," the policeman says, bending down closer to the woman. "C'mon now." He put an arm out to help her up.

She lunges for him, hissing, her eyes wild. "Leave us alone!" she screams. She crouches back down on her haunches and reads.

The police officer backs away, talking into his hand-held radio. He calls for backup. Sheila, his partner was good at handling these kind. She'd know exactly what to do. While he waits, he directs traffic around the woman. His good deed for the day.

He observes the peculiar woman who's hunched over a book. A cigarette dangles from her mumbling lips. He can't make out what she's saying. Maybe she's reading out loud to her herself. She's filthy and grungy and looks like she's been in the same teal dress for weeks. Her tangled hair is wrapped in a lavender bandanna. He can't help but stare as he wonders who she is and how she became this way. He wishes Sheila would put a move on it.

Thinks he's gonna tell us what to do! He better think again. Dern cop try and bully us.  See how he backed off, girls? I showed him!

Now, who picked this soppy love story anyways? Fine! Where were we? Oh yes, the wife just woke up and remembered who she was again...


  1. Really powerful! I always feel especially bad for homeless or crazy women on the street, as I imagine how hard it would be. Good job with sketching out an emotional picture.

  2. Thanks, Catherine! I appreciate your comments. The photo struck many chords in my heart and mind.