Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Mother (as in maternal parent) (04/24/08)
TITLE: "Mother Dear"
By Frank Salerni
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES
The city traffic was ringing in my ears as brakes squealed, people yelled, and car exhaust blew thick. When the light turned green her hand took mine as we crossed the busy metropolitan street.
My eyes tried to focus on everything at once. My thoughts raced, as I would look up at one of the many tall buildings that reached for the clouds, or the giant bus that frightened me as it roared past us. I never forgot the small spotted dog begging for a crust of bread from the homeless man. I wondered if this might be the homeless mans last meal? I remembers a newsboy hollering, “Paper mister? Only ten cents.” I had never encountered such things before.
I was truly in awe at the magnitude of events bursting forth all at the same time.
It was hot and dry, and I remember the smell of popcorn filled the air. Every corner we passed seemed to possess it’s own unique huddle of people. We all waited for the streetlight to change from red to green. Then, we’d make a mad dash to cross in various directions. I never knew which direction we’d take.
This was my very first experience in the big city, and I can tell you it was a far cry from the small town of Weaver Town Oklahoma. We only had one blinking yellow light in the middle of the main road, (and the main road was only a half-mile long.)
My legs were getting tired, but I held on to that firm hand of security as we continued to walk among the crowds. A drunken man suddenly stumbled in front of me, and his unshaven face came close to mine as he sprawled out on the hard pavement. I could smell wine as a bottle broke within his pocket. I turned my head and watched as he sat up and started to cry over his loss.
We then turned down an alleyway and I remembered the sound of the city drifted away. Trashcans were overfilled and were spilling out on to the ground. The road between the buildings was damp and most humid. Cats made their homes in and among the debris.
It was then I glanced up to look into the person’s face that was holding my hand. I had always before got a reassuring smile. This time was different. This time was horrifying. I dug my heels into the ground and spoke in a trembling voice… “You’re not my mother!”
“That’s right… and you’re not my son.”
(To be continued…)
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.