Jenna
By Chapter
The night air was cold. It stung against the cheeks of the late-night pedestrians as they hurried to get to their homes. Shop windows were barred from the icy winds by their dusty curtains, the doors locked and foreboding. Windows glowed a deep golden, their shutters closing out the suffering of the world outside, not needing to add an unpleasant view to the family's present strife. The message these bleak mid-January nights sent was a simple one. Misery.
Those trapped outside in the gale-like winds were nothing short of miserable. They huddled under discarded newspapers, trying to believe that the thin sheets of cheap paper could bring them warmth. They sat in pairs, threes or fours, huddled close, telling tales of past miseries.
One such sufferer had abandoned her newspaper and had set to roving the streets, searching for misplaced change on the streets or perhaps a kind soul. Both, she understood, were fairytales. She knew the streets well; they were her home. She had grown up in their alleys and crowded sidewalks. She had faced many such winters. For her, life was a struggle, completely bereft of any magic.
The most magical thing she had ever seen was a street magician who could make pennies appear from behind little children's ears. She had waited and waited for the magician to see her, to make a penny appear from behind her ear. But he never did. He saw the children escorted in baby buggies, the mothers swathed in elegant, colorful, satin cloth. Those children would never need a penny as bad as she.
From that magician, she had learned the sole ideal of the world that she existed in (for she claimed that she didn't really live). Money was the key to everything, was the giver of life. Without it, you were nothing, street scum, no better than her current life standing. But with it... With it you had it made. You would never be lonely with coins to jingle in your pockets. And with it, you had at least one thing insured - life.
Life wasn't living to the girl. She said that she didn't know what living was. The world was out to get her, to bring her down in its vicious claws and leave her as nothing. She had no place in life, it seemed. God must have just forgotten about her. These were wild claims to be made by this girl. She was a child, no older than ten.
***
She searched the street for warmth. When she found none, she headed down a different street in a different direction. It made no sense to her to just give up, aside from her hope, which was dwindling fast. Her faith had long before been shot.
She searched the buildings, looking for a friendly sign. Perhaps there might be someone confined by those walls she had only to find, and if she found them, all her wildest dreams would come true. She would eat and feel full. She would never again face the cold winds. These were her dreams.
A boy sat on a stoop smoking a cigar, the potent smoke creating a wreath about him. He shivered as he sat there, though wrapped in a woolen blanket, a hat atop his head, covering his ears. The child could smell the smoke a ways off and could almost feel the warmth it had earlier contained. She seized it as an opportunity. Approaching the boy silently, she waited to be noticed. Often enough people just saw straight through her. But the boy didn't. He looked up into her miserable eyes as she stood a few feet away. After a moment's hesitation, he motioned for her to come closer. After more hesitation on her part, she shuffled a few paces forward.
"What you hanging around here for at this time of night, kid?" His words weren't harsh. They didn't sting her ears as most words did.
"I don't got nowhere else to go, sir." She replied in her meek little voice. The boy chuckled a bit, perhaps at being referred to as 'sir'.
"Don't you got a home?" he asked, studying the poor creature over another time.
"No, sir." She had her head bowed.
"Well...where's your family stay? Do they live on the streets too?"
"They're gone sir."
"Oh." Silence. "Where'd they go?"
"I don't know." More silence.
"Well how bout you join me on this here stoop for a minute, give your feet a rest." He smiled. She hadn't had a smile directed at her in what seemed like a lifetime. Slowly and with great care, she took a seat next to him on the warn wooden steps. The two sat in silence for a while. "You're a small one." The boy commented, looking into her lifeless eyes. "How old are you, six?"
"I'm ten, going on eleven." She replied, a hint defensively. Again the boy chuckled.
"So you gotta name?"
"Yeah, what's it to you?" she asked quickly, again defensive.
"Ehh, just wondering. Keep your skirt on." Another uncomfortable silence settled over them.
"Jenna." She stated finally, after much internal deliberation.
"Jenna?" That's a pretty name. Well nice to meet you, Jenna. The name's Christopher. People around here call me Grant, though. That's my last name. Christopher Grant." He extended a hand towards her. She stared at it for a moment, perplexed, until she reached out her own timid hand. Grant shook it warmly, a smile adorning his lips. Jenna let a tiny half-of-a-half smile peek through, though it quickly disappeared. The two sat through yet another silence, this one a slight bit more comfortable than the last.
Grant looked around, "Well little lady, I think it's time I headed inside. Sure is cold out tonight." Jenna merely nodded. She had previously commenced to shivering, though she tried to hold it in. Grant saw her, trying to conceal her shivers. The image struck him hard. He would forever remember it as silent suffering. He looked around for a second time, now desperate, searching for something to help her in some little way. "Jenna?" he said with a smile, draping the warm brown blanket around her tiny shoulders. "Sweet dreams." He whispered, tucking it gently around her. Her face exploded with light as she beamed at him, her mouth half-open in wonderment. She threw her arms around his neck.
"Thank you!" she whispered in a euphoric trance. Grant stood, not feeling the chill of the night air. He left Jenna, cuddled up in her new blanket on the stoop, and headed inside. He laid on a blanket-less bed that night, fast asleep, having never been warmer in his life.
By Chapter
The night air was cold. It stung against the cheeks of the late-night pedestrians as they hurried to get to their homes. Shop windows were barred from the icy winds by their dusty curtains, the doors locked and foreboding. Windows glowed a deep golden, their shutters closing out the suffering of the world outside, not needing to add an unpleasant view to the family's present strife. The message these bleak mid-January nights sent was a simple one. Misery.
Those trapped outside in the gale-like winds were nothing short of miserable. They huddled under discarded newspapers, trying to believe that the thin sheets of cheap paper could bring them warmth. They sat in pairs, threes or fours, huddled close, telling tales of past miseries.
One such sufferer had abandoned her newspaper and had set to roving the streets, searching for misplaced change on the streets or perhaps a kind soul. Both, she understood, were fairytales. She knew the streets well; they were her home. She had grown up in their alleys and crowded sidewalks. She had faced many such winters. For her, life was a struggle, completely bereft of any magic.
The most magical thing she had ever seen was a street magician who could make pennies appear from behind little children's ears. She had waited and waited for the magician to see her, to make a penny appear from behind her ear. But he never did. He saw the children escorted in baby buggies, the mothers swathed in elegant, colorful, satin cloth. Those children would never need a penny as bad as she.
From that magician, she had learned the sole ideal of the world that she existed in (for she claimed that she didn't really live). Money was the key to everything, was the giver of life. Without it, you were nothing, street scum, no better than her current life standing. But with it... With it you had it made. You would never be lonely with coins to jingle in your pockets. And with it, you had at least one thing insured - life.
Life wasn't living to the girl. She said that she didn't know what living was. The world was out to get her, to bring her down in its vicious claws and leave her as nothing. She had no place in life, it seemed. God must have just forgotten about her. These were wild claims to be made by this girl. She was a child, no older than ten.
***
She searched the street for warmth. When she found none, she headed down a different street in a different direction. It made no sense to her to just give up, aside from her hope, which was dwindling fast. Her faith had long before been shot.
She searched the buildings, looking for a friendly sign. Perhaps there might be someone confined by those walls she had only to find, and if she found them, all her wildest dreams would come true. She would eat and feel full. She would never again face the cold winds. These were her dreams.
A boy sat on a stoop smoking a cigar, the potent smoke creating a wreath about him. He shivered as he sat there, though wrapped in a woolen blanket, a hat atop his head, covering his ears. The child could smell the smoke a ways off and could almost feel the warmth it had earlier contained. She seized it as an opportunity. Approaching the boy silently, she waited to be noticed. Often enough people just saw straight through her. But the boy didn't. He looked up into her miserable eyes as she stood a few feet away. After a moment's hesitation, he motioned for her to come closer. After more hesitation on her part, she shuffled a few paces forward.
"What you hanging around here for at this time of night, kid?" His words weren't harsh. They didn't sting her ears as most words did.
"I don't got nowhere else to go, sir." She replied in her meek little voice. The boy chuckled a bit, perhaps at being referred to as 'sir'.
"Don't you got a home?" he asked, studying the poor creature over another time.
"No, sir." She had her head bowed.
"Well...where's your family stay? Do they live on the streets too?"
"They're gone sir."
"Oh." Silence. "Where'd they go?"
"I don't know." More silence.
"Well how bout you join me on this here stoop for a minute, give your feet a rest." He smiled. She hadn't had a smile directed at her in what seemed like a lifetime. Slowly and with great care, she took a seat next to him on the warn wooden steps. The two sat in silence for a while. "You're a small one." The boy commented, looking into her lifeless eyes. "How old are you, six?"
"I'm ten, going on eleven." She replied, a hint defensively. Again the boy chuckled.
"So you gotta name?"
"Yeah, what's it to you?" she asked quickly, again defensive.
"Ehh, just wondering. Keep your skirt on." Another uncomfortable silence settled over them.
"Jenna." She stated finally, after much internal deliberation.
"Jenna?" That's a pretty name. Well nice to meet you, Jenna. The name's Christopher. People around here call me Grant, though. That's my last name. Christopher Grant." He extended a hand towards her. She stared at it for a moment, perplexed, until she reached out her own timid hand. Grant shook it warmly, a smile adorning his lips. Jenna let a tiny half-of-a-half smile peek through, though it quickly disappeared. The two sat through yet another silence, this one a slight bit more comfortable than the last.
Grant looked around, "Well little lady, I think it's time I headed inside. Sure is cold out tonight." Jenna merely nodded. She had previously commenced to shivering, though she tried to hold it in. Grant saw her, trying to conceal her shivers. The image struck him hard. He would forever remember it as silent suffering. He looked around for a second time, now desperate, searching for something to help her in some little way. "Jenna?" he said with a smile, draping the warm brown blanket around her tiny shoulders. "Sweet dreams." He whispered, tucking it gently around her. Her face exploded with light as she beamed at him, her mouth half-open in wonderment. She threw her arms around his neck.
"Thank you!" she whispered in a euphoric trance. Grant stood, not feeling the chill of the night air. He left Jenna, cuddled up in her new blanket on the stoop, and headed inside. He laid on a blanket-less bed that night, fast asleep, having never been warmer in his life.