From the pages of a journal written by a teenage girl, homeless, struggling to survive on the streets. ~I couldn’t believe it… the smell was gruesome, disgusting! I turned around and quickly leaned out the window to get a breath of fresh air, before I threw -up all over the floor.
I looked around again and saw an old wooden door, I quickly went over and undid the bolt lock and pulled the door open. Cool night air quickly invaded the house and I could almost hear a sigh of relief, as the air circulated throughout the old rooms within.
I walked back over and looked in the room I had first entered by window, the body was covered in maggots, patches of hair black hair were left matted with dried blood. The floor had a large dark blood stain on it surrounding the body. I remember staring at the heap lying on the floor, tears in my eyes knowing death had come violently, no one came to help, no one knew.
It was beginning to get dark out now, I could feel the dampness from the dew in the night air, I shivered. The crickets began their nightly chorus. I felt so alone at that moment, like I was the only person left in the whole world.
I sat out on the back porch and listened to the sounds that night brings. I watched the lights go off and on in random windows facing the backyard. Rows of houses and low rise buildings lined the street which ran behind the back of this old building. I heard a dog barking from far away as if, expecting a long overdue reply from the dog which lay dead on the floor inside. They would never hear one another’s voice again in the lonely night.
Each time I heard the bark from far away, more tears fell, my heart ached. I sat alone and cried for his friend, for my friend, but I think most of all, I cried for myself.
It could just as well be me lying there on the floor inside that room. My head bashed in, blood staining my hair, my clothes, the floor soaked in blood, dried to inky blackness.
No one would care, no one would even know, until another lost soul came looking for some shelter and then what?
What would they do? leave me there to rot? what was I going to do?
That question swirled around in my mind, no answer came to me, nothing! Just the same question over and over again, what was I going to do now?
Copyright ©2009 The Lost Journal
written by: Sandra Lynn
All Pictures displayed herein courtesy of Google Images.
Filed under: Diary, Journal, Women, Writing, humanity, random, society | Tagged: alone, blood, heartache, lonely, shelter, stain, street-life
