-Carlos-
New Member
These lines are just a brief (ideas only) piecing together of what may end up as a short story. At least that's my hope.
The Educated Bum
If he were a she, he, James, would be called Lucy. It was his gait that demanded such a (gender) name change. To a science buff James’ locomotion resembled that of our original primate. Like James though, primates only roamed about seeking daily sustenance. But unlike Lucy, James had something she never had - an aspiration to evolve into a civil member of society, a productive, tax-paying somebody.
James did not possess the piercing foulness that other unfortunates carried either. He kept himself clean and orderly thanks to the library bathrooms and a bar of soap he toted about in a gym bag: A King James Bible, with a slip of paper marking the Book of Job, one change of clothes, fruit (some days), and a large water bottle - these items made-up his earthly possessions.
He also carried a phone number in his memory; he would call Father Thomas if the previous night’s dime up yielded a coin or two. James had brotherly love for Father Thomas. The elderly priest was his anchor, his counselor, hope.
The library books became his only path out – so James prayed. His rose-colored complexion, grey hair, and bony shape made him almost invisible to anyone else seated among the quiet repository. In passing he would sometimes greet you with a quick bow of his head; a slight smile escaping on fair days.
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The Educated Bum
If he were a she, he, James, would be called Lucy. It was his gait that demanded such a (gender) name change. To a science buff James’ locomotion resembled that of our original primate. Like James though, primates only roamed about seeking daily sustenance. But unlike Lucy, James had something she never had - an aspiration to evolve into a civil member of society, a productive, tax-paying somebody.
James did not possess the piercing foulness that other unfortunates carried either. He kept himself clean and orderly thanks to the library bathrooms and a bar of soap he toted about in a gym bag: A King James Bible, with a slip of paper marking the Book of Job, one change of clothes, fruit (some days), and a large water bottle - these items made-up his earthly possessions.
He also carried a phone number in his memory; he would call Father Thomas if the previous night’s dime up yielded a coin or two. James had brotherly love for Father Thomas. The elderly priest was his anchor, his counselor, hope.
The library books became his only path out – so James prayed. His rose-colored complexion, grey hair, and bony shape made him almost invisible to anyone else seated among the quiet repository. In passing he would sometimes greet you with a quick bow of his head; a slight smile escaping on fair days.
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