Creative Writing

Crowded the streets are, filled to the brim with anticipation and excitement. The day is at its beginning. Children skip to the beat; their heads filled with ideas for the days ahead. Snow. It waits up above. Ready to fall and grant the children’s wishes. It arms the storefronts with all the latest colourful winter styles. Women gather in their long winter coats, searching out the new best perfume, fuelled by gossip. The resulting scent is a strong chemical like smell filling the air. It is soft and dreamlike. The men are different. They become a part of the surroundings; disappearing. Engaging in a game of hiding and seek to avoid being their girlfriend’s doll in which to play dress-up. The roads are the connections between the two worlds; a place where the world of money combines with those less fortunate. The bright, postered windows of professional looking stores connected to the tacky chalked windows of run-down stores. The outcasts of the city standing lonesome at the side. Children float around it, like unruly pets as they follow their parents. Deterred by the store and the man in its presence, they change direction; preserving their children’s safety along with their own. This particular family is not alone as many before them have done the same; Just as will generations to come.

Look. Look at everyone. As the clock ticks towards lunch, some drift away to fill their stomachs. Others have just made a start to their day, fuelled by excitement. The masses of people have started to thin; but their departure brings about the arrival of new, excited shoppers. Busses have made their deliveries, now becoming the exit channel for those heading home. But. With all the commotion, the man is practically obscure. An invisible line is a barrier around. It’s not a place to enter as it’s just as sickening as the surrounding objects. The tattered blanket. A worn-down building. Even just getting close sets up someone’s life to follow the same path. One semicircle is more of an inconvenience. Stepping around, it is precisely this. It’s just a rule that has to be obeyed. Families take it in their stride and are prepared. Cross here. Walk along here. Cross back here. The method intertwined in the minds of the world’s youth. A smart method. One that will keep them safe. A steady stream of all of these people falls into the streets. Their stomachs full and their day organised. Cold, damp weather that should bring about shivering was planned for. The countless layers of coats and warm clothing were looked forward to with the impending excitement of snow.

As the day draws to a close, only determined shoppers are brave enough to fight to get into the ever closing stores. Others are on the hunt for one of the brightly lit restaurants, one that is almost desolate, ensuring a seat. Through all the commotion, standard rules apply: income level means everything, no one else matters, and everyone is responsible for the way they live their life. These rules define everything on this street. The congregation of people outside the brightly lit, well-furnished restaurants is an indication of higher-income levels. While the dwindling stream of persistent shoppers is inundated with only a few that risk the dark and ominous cheaper shops. Shops only for those disgraced. They are dirty and are not a place for reasonable, functioning people. The sky connecting the two worlds is deceitful. This colour filled blanket above us is dotted with bright lights. It is a world of beauty in a place of darkness. Like only those who gleam and their worth is shown, are reflected in the sky above. This whole area is almost void of activity now. Anyone whose value would be displayed in the sky is missing. Only the misfits of society linger in the street. They are the ones who no doubt smoke and get into trouble time and time again. Replacing the empty silence is the low mumbled chatter. The man is just another one of them. Hat low and coat backwards. A movement to hide away and protect; a boundary between the man’s body hideous body and the world in which he doesn’t belong.

Listen. Listen to the sounds. The emptiness, the silence, the lack of people. A perfect street filled with peaceful silence. This place of perfection in ruins when passers-by dare to look down. The sounds of snivels from cold noses fill the air. The lone engine rumble of a single-car gives life to the road, one sound keeping insanity away. Familiar in a world of difference; One sound the same. A few lone strangers brave the streets; their voices hushed. Murmurs of those on the street can be detected leaving their mouths; no doubt filled with hatred and disrespect. Not one would consider asking for the man if he were to disappear. The man is an irritating rap song that you look to turn off; a stark difference to the classical music of the city.

Jealousy creeps through your lips as you see the life you dream. You will never be good enough for it. The snow everyone seeks, its cold hands slice through your thin blanket. You are isolated from society. If you were someone different, they wouldn’t be so ignorant. You were a normal human being until you no longer had a job. Now a nobody. The barrier that everyone chose to build around you is disheartening. You are a burden to everyone around and a disgrace to all. You are just another man on the street and no matter what you do; no matter what you say. You will always be known as the dirty scum living on the streets. One star that has already fallen.