[14/14]
Number: 14/14
Title: On a cold winter night
Fandom: Original
Claim: old man (not named x, D)
Extension: 991
Warnings: None ~
Notes: Duh ... left by the wayside a thousand in my computer. Used only for being an emergency for the challenge x, D
It was dark. Perhaps a dozen or two, really did not know. The old, crooked, aquiline nose, his skin tanned by the sun and rain, watching the streets almost empty, shivering, as he settled between your cards and filthy and tattered blankets. Yes, this was a very cold winter night, even more than the others. Occasionally a dealer will air rosaba his wrinkled face, covering it with frozen air. The sky was so black, so impenetrable in its immensity and so covered with icy stars at once, and he there, below freezing in the glow of these.
- Geez it's cold, "muttered the old man to himself, while trying to cover even more exposed face, with the few blankets and cardboard he had.
Yes, the night was so cold, you soaked to the bone. I wish it would rain. No, better no, because they get wet enterito and bones ache anymore. Imagine that before it was heated, the steam which would leave the body even when they made zero. But now it was a simple human stubble walking by who knew where. Yes, your old heat always afiebrante advantage it had in any season and under all circumstances. Before bed, she sought the frozen legs warm him wherever. Just found it, she fell asleep with a happy smile.
Yes, your old lady. Missed her. Some time ago I knew nothing of it. Absolutely nothing. He missed his soft, cold skin, his touch, kisses, food waiting for him every day after work, while working, and even missed the fights he had with her, because of the little girl of her daughter. Damn brat. Because of her old one day he went and never came back. If I could only turn back the clock to get back to glimpse the figure of his old lady, just that he always asked.
But nothing, not even a shadow of it looked. Sometimes, when dozing at night, I could see it, like it was yesterday, as if yesterday had been one of the many weekends in which he played ball with the old neighborhood, getting drunk as if they lost as if they won , fighting with the opposing team shock and machetes. Then came long, with cloudy saliva, demonic eyes, face bloody and violent, hitting the poor old, insulting, while screaming brat crumbled. And his blood ran down his cheek swiftly and he did not care because I just wanted to see the old mourn, begging and pleading not punish her more for things that she had no guilt.
And after he spent his drunken old lady always healed and say, "Old man, take care, that one day you can blow up the soul and there came no more." If you never did. And ... Look at me! Alive and well, here, sleeping on the street. With nothing but alive. Everything
lost after he left his old. All because of her daughter. As the hated. If he had not placed between the old and he slapped that it would give his wife will not have reached her daughter. But no, the little girl goes and gets in the way of the fight and because of him the old one was. The next day I had to work and I was, because otherwise we would die of hunger and could not pay the bills. It's that simple. Anyway, if you pegase, his old lady was always at home, waiting with the food cooked. But that Monday came and the old was gone. Missing her, the little girl and her clothes. I even made the food. What a joke! They left, but left the old me made food.
And I thought I was going to eat. It was like a joke. That night I slept uncovered, but it was very cold, like now, because she had no one turn me off. And the food began to lose there, shoved it on the kitchen. Wait several days
call, a citation, some sign of life from the old, but nothing. Was swallowed by the earth. All because of the brat. And this cold, which removes the heat afiebrante one, just like the old. Yes, she was as cold tonight, immense, imposing their own way. No, the old woman was so cold.
The old, decrepit and dirty old man gazed at the black sky in solitude, looking sad, shivering, while tears rolled down her wrinkled transparent cheeks. Suddenly, the tears stopped falling and the old man stared at the sky, eyes closed.
Morning came, white light, covered with thick mist and labyrinthine. Steps and more steps, black shoes, red heels and more steps along the paths. Clash of people against people. Speaker noise. Buildings and more buildings opened their doors to face serious and depressed. And a dog, walking slowly, scabby, with open mouth and skinny. He was hungry and still there was no trash bag with rich food. Sometimes you could catch things really good, especially outside the places where humans ate. But now there was no bag.
The dog stopped and scratched his fleas. He looked aside. There, lying on the wall, covered with blankets and cardboard miserable, there was an old man. Crooked, aquiline nose, his skin tanned by the sun and rain, looking with closed eyes to heaven. The dog approached. Perhaps the man had food and give him a little. Everyone who looked like he always gave him. Approached and sniffed. The old smell of food.
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