Story of a lost journalist

January 1, 2007

Joy didnt come in pennies

Filed under: Fiction — Cris @ 14:24

The sky looked dark. As I looked up I felt a raindrop fall on my face. It seemed the perfect time to whistle. So, I did whistle. And coincidentially, everytime I whistle I get this weird feeling someone is listening to me. I turn back and forth expecting to catch an unsuspecting listener. So what do I think I am? Someone worthy enough to be admired? Sheesh a secret admirer for me? No way. This was just my imagination. Noone would bother to listen to me. Me a street boy! A 17 year old in his worn out jeans and torn jacket! Geez I havent got a penny on me!

As my hair fell on my face, I stopped whistling. I decided to sit down and mourn for a while – you know what people do when they feel life is stuck at a point. Yeah I do that kind of thing every evening. I have chosen a spot to sit and do the mourning. A deserted bus stop where no bus stops. No one notices me. Well as long as I am in the streets that is. Enter a hotel or a shop and I have got all kinds of suspecting eyes on me. They seem all ready to fall upon me the minute I lay my hands on something. Well I dont say I have never robbed. But hey I am not a small kid anymore. I know my right from my wrong. Hunger or death or what come may, I am doing no robbing!

One day, just one day I’d like to show them. I am not going to dawn on white handsome clothes and appear all rich. Nope. I will be the same self, except I’d have money in plenty to throw at every little thing my eyes would fall on! I have seen Pretty Women like 18 times just to watch that scene where she tells those girls “You work on commison rite? Big mistake! Huge”. I have framed in my mind the exact same lines to tell one day to one of those dumb girls giving me that look.

Rain started pouring heavily now. This roof isnt much. I am getting all wet. Boy do I love it! I went to the road and let my hair fly in the wind. I could feel tiny drops trickling through my slightly unshaven face. This was an occasion to smile. And smile I did. I faced the sky, eyes closed, mouth wide open. I felt I could stay like this forever. Whoever said money was everything had to watch me now. They’d know how wrong they were.

As I walked back, I could get the same weird feeling of being watched. I’d like to imagine these were angels watching me up from heaven. Those saintly white creatures pouring their purity over my head. Maybe I should be a writer. They say all you need to be a writer is to know to dream and imagine. Thats all I do!

It is getting darker. I should find some place to sleep.
As I was about to cross the street, a speeding car came from the wrong direction and knocked me down. I lost my consiousness.

Some time must have passed. I dreamnt of heaven and angels and all good things. I opened my eyes to see a fellow in white coat. The doc! Oh darn back to the real world. They would know I have no money and throw me out of the hospital. But hmm they didnt. Maybe the car-hitter was a kind man. A tall man wearing a funny cap came to my bed. He must be the hitter. Poor fellow. He didnt have to apologise.

“How are you feeling”
He asked.
“I am alright. Thanks”
“Charles Daven.”
“Chris Dawson”
“What do you think about acting in a movie?”
Alright so I havent woken up yet. I started pinching my left hand.
“Haha dont do that. This is real. As I came out of my car to take you up, I saw this bright light on your face. Now I dont know how that happened. You looked perfect. You looked like Jesus! Well a very young Jesus! And I am a director. So well.. what do you think”
I tried to express my gratitude.
A 1000 things went through my mind. The Pretty Woman scene. The money. Everything that would solve my problems. But I felt I’d lose something. I was surprised to hear my own words as I said
“No Sir, thank you so much though”

I was back on the streets. I started to whistle. I could feel someone listening. I looked up and put my thumbs up. I said “Thanks dear angels I know you are behind this but I wouldnt ever want to miss this! Nothing could replace the kind of joy I get with you up there and me down here. I just want one listener and thats you!
I love my life the way it is! Thank you so much!!”

Years later I became a writer. I made money too. But I never said those Pretty Women lines. I made sure I never lost my listener as I whistled, as I wrote. I must be mad but I am happy. And yes, I do still believe in angels. I dedicated my first book to them. My first book – Joy didnt come in pennies.

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7 Comments »

  1. hmmm…goood attempt at writing from a different angle…u never wrote as a boy till now….u know what i mean….. lil bit girly feel crept into it….still good attempt crissie
    not one of ur best…but as a first attempt at writing from a different perspective ..rating it as “good” (just made that grade.. barely)…next time its gonna b better

    Comment by just a jester — January 1, 2007 @ 18:07 | Reply

  2. This was different…good work crisie…but looks a bit animated at that movie thing in between…any way nice to see ur exploring and experimenting…go cris go!

    Comment by Gov — January 2, 2007 @ 09:47 | Reply

  3. ahaaaa…..the name Chris just ahs to appear huh!
    neat work 🙂

    Comment by me! — January 4, 2007 @ 23:54 | Reply

  4. liked it very much…

    (somehow, i feel this would have been a bettah cwistmas stowy… 😉 )

    Comment by jest a juster — January 7, 2007 @ 15:12 | Reply

  5. taptap… taptap…(waitin impatiently for the next entry)

    Comment by just a jester — January 14, 2007 @ 17:00 | Reply

  6. me too waiting…
    write fastki…

    Comment by jest a juster — January 19, 2007 @ 16:19 | Reply

  7. A male character but yet feminine at times, may be the influence of the author’s self. Hope and wish my dear friend someday soon will write her book too..

    Comment by Javed Miandad — January 23, 2011 @ 08:38 | Reply


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