Rare Hospitality
Shivering, I walk towards the house, thinking up my best begging voice. Their warm fireplaces funnel light into the surrounding area, dispersing heat into the dark, cold night. Thick snow covers the ground around me, glues my feet to the sidewalk, and prevents me from reaching the haven that can save me. The unbearable cold chills my bones, freezing every atom of my being to a slow, cold pace. The only thing I need is a warm shelter, and maybe some water. I could go without proper food. They could even kick me out the next morning. But please, god have mercy on me, for I don’t want to die of hypothermia in this cold, unforgiving world. I make my way towards their abode, and I knock on their door, hoping that my knocks are loud enough for them to notice me. But I feel that the howling wind will drown out my cries for help.
People got out of work early that day because of the snow. I could see all the men and women returning to their families, enjoying their warm food by the fireplace. Oh how I envy them. I’ve forgotten what the inside of a house looks like. What a family looks like. While everybody went home to their loved ones, I stayed tucked away under a bridge, subjected to the screaming winds and the thick snow blankets of December. As the day progressed, the air grew colder and colder. The luxury which is not my own became clearer in the absence of daylight. Nearby houses taunted me with the sound of jolly laughter, with the smell of good food, and with the light of fireplaces.
I wait for somebody to come. I wait for them to open the door and say, “Go away.” A few seconds feels like an eternity of suspense - cold, dreadful suspense. Then somebody comes. There is a man at the door. He yells at me, spewing profanity, so I don’t try to beg. But his wife intervenes, stops him, and welcomes me inside. I receive food, water, and blankets. I sit by their fireplace, forever grateful for the rare hospitality I’ve stumbled upon.
The part that really gets me is that the speaker’s isolation and misfortune became “clearer in the absence of daylight.” The paradox of that sentence (things shouldn’t be clearer to see in the dark) is heartbreaking. You really communicate his desperation with how he imagines himself bargains in the beginning—shelter and water, don’t even need food. I’m so relieved this had a merciful ending.
ReplyDeleteBrian- Although we are currently experiencing a very Hot Summer I was transformed mentally to a very could place while reading your Story, and just as your character felt ,I too was waiting with anticipation as he/she knocked on the door in the hope of meeting a kind person. I was greatly relieved by the outcome.
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