Alone

Justine Jorgensen

A pair of feet thumped down the weathered steps of the porch. Limp strands of grass were flattened as the figure cut across the lawn, while the sounds of shouting faded the farther he got from the house. Dark clouds hung low in the sky and droplets of rain fell like tiny pebbles through the muggy air. The world was quiet – not a sound except for the faint patter of water on metal. The young boy meandered through the sombre town, kicking at rocks and wishing he had someone to talk to. Occasionally, a dog would bark from a side street, but the sound would fade away almost as quickly as it had begun.


At the age of ten, the boy looked a miserable creature; eyes sunken, mouth drawn, he walked as if the troubles of the world were carried on his shoulders. Moreover, he was overweight, a fact that had earned him many snide comments and rude remarks over the years. Even his hair was wrong, a disgusting yellow colour that flopped into his eyes no matter how many times he brushed it away. He needed comfort, and the only way he came close to that was in wandering the derelict town, lost in his thoughts. He knew he wouldn’t be able to find solace at home, amidst the echoing shouts and scattered beer bottles, neither through other kids his age, for to be able to confide in friends, you needed friends in the first place. Sometimes despair almost sucked him down and he wondered if he would ever get out of this horrible town and on to a better life.

Every day he wished desperately that he wouldn’t end up like Old Joe, the resident lunatic. Old and alone, Joe would ramble through the garbage dump with his special stick, pushing the garbage this way and that. But in a way, the boy almost envied poor Old Joe; even though he lived at the bottom, even though he did not really have anything to live for, he was happy. He was always smiling that huge smile of his; grinning even as he shuffled through the reeking garbage that no one wanted or needed.

The boy sighed and kicked a rock, watched as it skittered away to land amidst other grey rocks, grey just like this whole town. He felt the pull of another life beyond the boundaries of this town give a gentle tug, and he vowed that one day, he would leave all this behind and never look back. He would leave the people he called his parents to their fighting and their crumbling home. He would leave the mean kids and their taunts, their cruelty. He would leave Old Joe to his garbage, to his life in mindless bliss.

The young boy slid down to sit against a building and pulled his knees against his chest. He curled his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees, all the while watching the rain as it fell. A lone raindrop landed on his cheek and slid gently to his lips. When he opened his mouth slightly, he tasted salt.