500: An Anthology of Short Stories

Darren only fully realized in his eleventh year that he was the son of a poverty-stricken mother. He had never met nor known his father, but various ‘uncles’ had on occasion lived with them in their shack. It seemed his mom always found these ‘uncles’ whenever they had to demolish their temporary home and move to a different settlement.

To Darren, the life he had with his mom Marina and his three siblings was all he had ever known. He took it for granted that living in a ramshackle hovel held together precariously by rusty nails, wooden struts and lengths of plastic, was the norm. Not once did it ever cross his mind that he was the child of a dispossessed homeless beggar, for Marina always somehow managed to see that her children were fed, clean and healthy.

“This life we’re living, this daily scrounging for scraps and eagerly accepting handouts from strangers… this is no life we should be living,” Darren’s best friend Kevin said towards the end of a particularly challenging and lengthy day.

Both boys had been working the streets that day from the earliest dawn rays, first stationing themselves at traffic signals to beg from motorists, then later moving to their regular haunts – the alleys behind fast food places, the back doors of restaurants, the front gates of residences. By the time the sun had started to set, they were already back on the bare hill overlooking their informal settlement.

Kevin suddenly swore with feeling when an especially large cockroach ran brazenly over his bare right foot. “And these things! They disgust me, but we live with them as if they are just some mild distraction,” he said. He squashed the insect without even thinking about it.

“What’s gotten into you today?” Darren asked, looking with concern at his usually chilled friend. “Do you want another pull on my joint?” he asked Kevin.

“Give,” Kevin said, taking the rolled marijuana cigarette. He took a pull on the ‘doobie’ before returning it to Darren. “How can you be satisfied with living in a paper and plastic ‘home’ that stinks like crap in summer and is as freezing cold as the devil’s heart in winter? Don’t you ever think about having a life better than this?”

Kevin gestured to the large shanty town below them that sprawled out in a dizzying array of huts, hovels, lean-tos and rickety structures. Each small shack abutted another as if they were all stitched together like an unsightly quilt created by a giant with no sense of beauty or pattern.

Darren was used to Kevin’s tendency to complain and speak as if he were some educated student, but he was unnerved by the new note of dissatisfaction that he could hear in his best friend’s voice.

“What’s wrong with this?” he now asked, confused as to why Kevin sounded so bitter. “We live in peace, we do as we please and we are happy. Isn’t that enough?”

“Happy? Are you freaking serious?” Kevin blurted out.

“Yeah, I’m happy with my life,” Darren said defensively. He was starting to feel anxious, as if Kevin was taking him to a deep, dark place he would rather not enter. Or maybe Kevin was trying to pull him out of that deep, dark place. The unexpected thought rose like a specter of revelation in his young mind, frightening him more than Kevin’s unfamiliar behavior.

“You’re happy to be living in dirt, to be eating people’s leftovers and stale food; to wash only once a month, and that’s if you have some soap? You’re telling me you’re happy to live in squalor like a rat and not go to school to get an education?”

Darren was angry that Kevin had used a word he had never heard before; Kevin was always reading any book, magazine or newspaper he could get his hands on. He often got into bloody fights with other boys who didn’t like the hoity-toity way he sometimes spoke. Kevin never learned; he persisted in using big words.

“What’s ‘squalor’?” Darren asked, strangely feeling an intense need to know the meaning of this exotic word. He felt as if a door that had thus far always been securely sealed had inexplicably been opened just the tiniest, tiniest bit.

“It means ‘uncleanliness, filth, dirt’; it perfectly describes our living conditions,” the young twelve-year-old spat bitterly. Rising to his feet, Kevin once again waved his hand over the settlement below them. “This place, this ‘camp’: it’s a shabby dump for unwanted people, for society’s outsiders, those living on the edges of their community. Actually, we’re not even seen as members of society. We are undesirables, an ugly eyesore that’s more of an embarrassment than an inconvenience,” Kevin stated, angrily kicking at a huge brown rat that was gnawing on a crust of moldy bread.

The rodent squeaked angrily before it scurried off into the darkness. Darren was quiet, Kevin’s emotional outburst whirling around in his mind. The eleven-year-old was uncomfortable; his mind was trying to shut that door, seal it tighter than ever before; but Kevin’s words reverberated like crystal clear clarion calls. The shadow of a disturbing truth was gaining sharper outlines, becoming more defined.

“Why did you say we are unwanted people?” Darren finally asked, his voice hushed, as if dreading Kevin’s reply but also desperate to hear it. “Undesirables. That’s what you called us.”

“Yes!” Kevin nearly shouted, picking up a small rock and hurling it mightily at another rat that had appeared out of nowhere. The rat nimbly dodged the hurled missile, giving Kevin a baleful red glare before vanishing into the murk.

The dark curtains of night had by now been fully drawn across the firmament; weak glows emanating from stumpy candles, drum fires or cooking braziers haphazardly lit the squatter camp below the two boys.

“Nobody wants us around; nobody desires to even acknowledge our presence!” Kevin stated fervently. “How many times haven’t you and your family been forced to move? How many times did the government send in their pigs to bulldoze our shacks, as if we were nothing more than insects whose nests had to be destroyed? Darren, we are the unwanted masses, my brother. We are better off dead than living in this extreme poverty.”

After his rant, Kevin threw himself down on the ground, stretching out on his back, his hands pillowing his head, and stared up at the multitude of blinking stars far above him. Darren knew his friend had retreated for now into a personal space he often visited. He respected and loved him enough not to intrude on his thoughts.

His own thoughts were a maelstrom threatening to drown him in uncertainty. That sealed door had opened even wider, the gap large enough to fit through. Darren feared what might emerge from behind it.

“Kevin,” Darren said after what he judged to be an appropriate interval, “why are you suddenly saying these things tonight? We’ve always been okay with our lives, haven’t we? At least, I thought you were fine with how things are, right?” he asked hesitantly. “I mean, I know our lives are not perfect and people look down on us, but we are free. We come and go as we please, we don’t have responsibilities, no debt, no bills to pay –”

“Shut up!” Kevin rudely interrupted Darren. He had jumped to his feet and was angrily facing Darren. “You can’t even see how pathetic our lives are,” the young man shouted bitterly, sudden tears pooling in his eyes.

A few of the homeless walking past them to their hovels in the squatter camp cast furtive glances at the two arguing boys, but none interfered. It was an unwritten rule to grant everybody privacy in a place where there was none. Only the chirping crickets, the last few singing cicadas and the ubiquitous mosquitoes joined in the conversation as uninvited participants.

“To answer your question about why I’m not ‘fine’ with things anymore: my eyes have been opened, Darren. I’ve removed the blindfold from my own eyes and seen the truth of the life we lead. It’s not a life, it’s survival. It’s nothing but grime, dust, poverty and indignity, and I’ve had enough,” Kevin declared as he paced like a caged panther, angrily brushing away the odd tear.

“What are you going to do? Kevin, what are you planning to do?” Darren asked his friend, his level of fright reaching its peak. That mysterious door was now nearly completely ajar.

“Do? Nothing much, Darren. Just what I should have done years ago,” Kevin said as he turned his back on the settlement, facing the trail that led through the bushes to the main road just beyond the hill.

The man grunted as he pushed himself off Marina, placing the paltry payment in her grimy hand as he pulled up his dirty trousers. He left the hovel quickly, suddenly overcome with the need for some fresher air. Marina was relieved that he was the last one of the day.

She was equally relieved that Darren hadn’t returned yet; she hated it when he was here while she ‘entertained’ her visitors. The other three children knew to make themselves scarce when a paying customer came calling.

Marina reasoned they were probably within hearing, so she hollered, “Jody! Greg! Donovan!” Some minutes later the three entered their home, Greg and Donovan plonking themselves down on the pile of rags that served as a bed in their corner while Jody went to Marina, still half-lying on the thin pallet on the bare floor in her curtained-off section. The two boys fell nearly instantly asleep in each other’s arms; they were hungry, nearly famished, but their exhaustion trumped their all-too-familiar hunger.

Jody quickly and efficiently got rid of the used condom, then handed Marina the can of Ricoffy. The empty coffee canister served as Marina’s ‘safe’; it held a measly few notes and some coins. Putting back the lid on the can, Marina said, “Make sure you cover the hole nicely, Jody. That money is for tomorrow’s food, baby.”

Jody nodded, placing the can back in the hole in the dirt from where she had dug it out. She made certain to brush sand back over the hiding place before moving a heavy crate containing some crusty pots, pans and donated tinned foods like beans and shredded tuna as well as half a loaf of brown bread over the hidey-hole. Then she went to lie down in her corner, near Marina.

“Did Darren not come back yet?” Marina asked Jody, anger rather than concern riding her voice.

“No, Mom. Maybe he’ll be home soon,” Jody answered sleepily. She worried though because Marina had a volatile temper which she frequently took out on Darren, thrashing the boy mercilessly with her leather strap whenever he displeased her. Jody prayed there would be no violence this night.

“He better get back pretty quick or it’s the strap for him,” Marina stated as she wiped herself between her legs with a flimsy piece of cloth. She lit the stub of a cigarette, taking deep drags from it before it gave up the ghost.

Still awake in her corner, sleep eluding her like a swiftly-moving wraith, as it did most nights, Jody suddenly had a crystal clear revelation: she would never see her brother again. Fat, warm tears flowed freely from the young girl’s eyes. She was still trying to decipher if they were tears of sorrow for herself or ones of relief for her brother’s escape when she slipped into peaceful slumber.

“Tonight I’m beating you bloody, you useless pig,” Marina said, reaching for the darkly stained leather strap. “Should have killed you when you were born for ruining my life,” she hissed, drinking thirstily from a bottle of cheap wine. “Your face reminds me far too much of your stinking loser of a father,” she said, spitting into a corner of the shack. “Just you wait,” she promised before falling back onto her straw mattress, out cold.

“Kevin! Wait!” Darren shouted at his friend who had started to walk away from the squatter camp. Pedestrian traffic into the settlement had long since stopped; the two boys were the only ones still out in the night which had suddenly turned chilly.

“No, I’m not waiting for anyone or anything,” Kevin said harshly, his body held rigidly, hands fisted at his sides.

“You misunderstand,” Darren said. “I’m not asking you not to go. I’m asking you to take me with you.”

Kevin whirled around in surprise, although he immediately realized he shouldn’t have been. Darren would follow him anywhere.

“Why would you want to go with me? You said you’re happy with your life. What about that? You’re happy to be free, without responsibilities,” Kevin threw at his friend, hoping against hope that Darren had finally seen the truth about their lives.

“I lied,” Darren admitted, his eyes downcast, refusing to meet his friend’s stare. After a few seconds though, he lifted his gaze. “You’re right, okay? This life isn’t life at all. It’s only survival, like you said, as if we are animals living from day to day on the mercy and kindness of others,” the no longer ignorant boy said. “I can’t go back to it if you’ve got something better in mind. And I’ve had enough of my mother’s hatred and her constant beatings of me,” Darren said very softly.

Kevin’s heart opened like a water lily in sympathy with his friend; he was all too aware of Marina’s cruel abuse of her son, as was everyone else in the camp. Kevin was just surprised it had taken so long for Darren to reach this point.

“Yes, I have something better in mind for us, my brother. I’m glad you’ve decided to come with me,” Kevin said and then suddenly grabbed the younger boy in a fierce hug.

“Where are we going?” Darren asked, the uncertainty and fear in his voice undisguised.

“There’s a home for destitute children in the city. I found it purely by luck about a month ago,” Kevin revealed. “It’s run by a non-profit organisation. One of the people working there saw me hanging outside the place and came to chat to me. She told me I would be welcome there at any time. She also told me they had an on-site school for those of us who had never attended one. It’s too good of an opportunity to get out of our miserable existence to miss out on, Darren.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me about this place before? I thought you shared everything with me,” Darren said, his tone slightly accusatory.

“You saw how you reacted earlier when I mentioned how much I despise our life. I didn’t think you’d go with me, and I didn’t want you to tell anybody about it. You know what my drunkard old man would have done to me if he ever heard about my plans,” Kevin explained.

Darren knew only too well. His mind shied away from the depravities of Kevin’s father, of how he ‘rented’ his own son out to men in the camp.

“I’m not angry with you, Kevin. I get it. I might have slipped up and said something to Jody or Greg,” Darren admitted. “I’m thankful you changed your mind though and told me about it.”

Kevin smiled in relief at his best friend.

“I guess I’ve known for some time now that the life we’re living isn’t ideal or even decent. I’ve had moments where I’ve felt deep shame at having to beg on the streets or scratch in bins for scraps. I’ve just forced myself to be blind to the truth because… what else did I have? This is the only existence I’ve known my entire life! But… for the last few weeks of listening to you and examining my place in the world, I’ve gradually been feeling that there must be more to life than this! I just didn’t know how to escape this prison, for it is one of my own making, isn’t it?” Darren asked, the innocence in his eyes nearly undoing Kevin’s control of his own emotions.

“But it’s a prison whose gates you’ve thrown open for me, Kevin. And I’m never willingly going back inside!” Darren passionately declared.

Kevin gently placed an arm around his brother-friend’s shoulder as together, the two of them began one of the most difficult journeys of their young lives.