Inside the Mind of Isadora


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Story of a Broken Man

Grenada Drunk Man & Shell Art.web (1024x884)

Broken

While on vacation in Grenada, we decided to drive around downtown which could be quite a challenge. Suddenly, I was overcome by the sight of a man sitting on the sidewalk.

“Stop,” I shouted.

Startled, my husband stopped the car assuming he was about to hit something or someone he hadn’t seen.

I said, “Look,” while pointing to this man. “Please!” “You’ve got to find a place to park.”

He drove a bit and found a parking spot.

Since we were unfamiliar with the downtown area, we had to walk several streets in search of where the man had been.

I thought I should purchase one of those shells he was selling since he looked like he was in need of a sale.

Eventually, we found him.

He was unaware I was standing next to him until I said, “Hello, I see you have some shells for sale.”

Tear filled hazy eyes glared at my me. I felt sucked in by his sadness. He was dirty with a profound odor of the unsanitary kind. It was the type of odor you knew was from a lack of any type of facilities. Yet, I felt compelled to talk to him. In one hand he had a cup of rum; the other hand held a blunt, doobie, marijuana joint. Drugs!

After briefly talking about his shells, I told him, “I noticed he was drinking and smoking marijuana at such an early morning hour.” It was 10:00 a.m.

He said, “There’s no set time for me to kill my pain.”

I didn’t dare ask what his sorrow was.

I asked, “Does it help your pain?”

No words were said. Just a tilt of the head in my direction with a curved smile that led me to believe he didn’t think I’d understand.

We spoke for a short time.

I handed him the money for the shell with a little extra. I recommended he use it for food or shelter. I told him to keep the shell so he could sell it to someone else.

As I began to walk away, he took another puff from his big sweet scented herb and shouted, “Pretty Lady” …

I turned.

He continued, “Someday, when you get to heaven, say hello to my angel. I know you’ll meet her there. Tell her, I’ll be with her before long.”

2018©written by Isadora

 

~ Kindness is loving people more than they deserve ~

Grant that, we may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console,
to be understood, as to understand … Saint Francis of Assisi

*****

 

*****Definition of Broken: forcibly separated into two or more pieces; fractured. incomplete; being in a state of disarray; disordered;

**** I received the Bronze Award for a: Street Life/Slice of Life: A photojournalistic photograph, camera as observer.

*****This story was originally posted in February, 2014 


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Friday Fictioneers – The Bills

friday-fictioneers-9162016-shaktikiff2The letters were stacked high on the kitchen table. Bills. They were four months behind on their mortgage. The last letter warned of foreclosure.

Sighing wearily, she walked to the basement where her husband often hid-out, drinking booze and smoking marijuana. He’d told her it made him relax.

She could smell the pungent odor as she descended the stairs. Her decision to leave him hardened.

He was lying on the cement floor.

Shocked at the needle hanging from his vein; a note on his lap.

‘The insurance money should be enough for you and the kids.’

“Coward”, she screamed.

2016©Isadora DeLaVega

Word Count: 100
Genre: Flash Fiction

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers
in this challenge: click here

*****Photo Prompt©Shaktiki Sharma