Homeless For 10 years

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
With a man sitting on a dirty blanket on a busy street makes me reluctant to say that his life is full of potential and opportunity. Well that’s what it was like for Ricky Taylor...

Submitted: March 29, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 29, 2011




November 14th 2000

With a man sitting on a dirty blanket on a busy street makes me reluctant to say that his life is full of potential and opportunity. Well that’s what it was like for Ricky Taylor...

November 14th 1985

November 14th 1985 was the exact day when Ricky Taylor became homeless. He had not yet adapted to his future life as a lonely individual. This is when he knew that he would be disadvantaged and in solitary conditions for at least a week. On this day he had to become streetwise and relentless to survive every day’s challenges.

Ricky had one of the worse possible finales to his week ending up on the street with only the cloths on his back and a $5 note. He wasn’t
responsible for his situation, It turns out he was made redundant from his vast business, In which he had put years and years into the business but the complexity of the stock market was responsible for his misfortune and the reason he has today become homeless.

He had had a stressful year and this isn't what he needed. He thought it would be just temporary until things fix themselves, but at this early stage he couldn't tell. He sat on the promenade glum and hopeless. He was located in a nice seaside resort in Newport, Rhode Island, it had both a an ugly side and pleasant side, The town of Watch Hill had these properties. He had recently lived in one of the more dainty houses, but he wasn't paying his household bills subsequently he had to leave.

He lifted himself up from the cold concrete promenade and approached the local park, he located himself on a reasonably new mahogany bench. He sat for just a few moments reflecting on his successful past. He was what you and I would call a UN-stereotypical homeless, he wasn't scruffy or malodorous, he still looked reasonably adequate.

Days passed and Ricky was still in the same situation he was in on November 14th. One crucial thing had changed he started to look inelegant , he also gained an unpleasant smell. The local towns people started to glare at him, they would go out of there way to scrutinize him.

He was like an animal in an enclosure, being examined by many visitors. Any presence now overwhelmed him. He was now officially what you would call a stereotypical homeless man. He still continued regardless everyday...

November 20th 1990

5 years had faded into the mist since Ricky Taylor had become homeless. On this exact day Ricky Taylor knew he had to move to another destination. He had spent the last of his $5 earlier on in the year. He was never a wise spender before so this was extremely hard for Ricky. Now the 90's had arose Ricky knew that he HAD to get out of this situation being in it for 5 years.

He was lucky enough that he was able to sustain reasonable health for the last 5 years. He had spent a lot of his time in the homeless shelter down town. They were very stereotypical people they just held their noses at the sight of any dishevelled looking person.

He never liked going to those sort of places, but that was his only choice, it was either that or starve to his grave. He needed to relocate, to another place with well - mannered people, and easier access to a homeless shelter, instead of walking a mile just to be stared at on the way. So he decided this was the day he would start to voyage to another town. He went to the homeless shelter for the last time grabbed a can of Campbell’s tomato soup from the volunteers kitchen and hit the road. The next town was around 20 miles away.

He trudged past the sign “Now leaving Watch Hill”, he gazed at the sign for around a minute reflecting on his long life in Watch Hill, How he had risen to success and how he had fallen dramatically, so much so becoming homeless.

The road ahead was long but he was going to complete his journey regardless of any pain or any other difficulties in which could arise...

5 miles into his journey and already he was tired and desperate for some food. He lifted the ring-pull off the can of soup and then gently sipped a frugal amount of soup, he carefully placed the lid on top the can and placed it into his large pocket.

There was something he had always loved to do, he loved to sing on occasions, he was in a melodic mood. On the 7th mile he opened his dry parched lips and started to utter sweet melodious sounds, until about the 10th mile when he stopped, knowing that he was half way there.

He started to feel travel-worn, his ankles also started to swell. He got to the 11th mile when he gained a great deal of thoughts to stop. He found some grass to lay down on. He laid there for around 10 minutes again like he did when he started his hike, he reflected on his past. He was what most would call depressed. He had been depressed for 5 years now.

He raised himself from the grassy spot in which he had been lying on for the past 10 minutes. He had approached the 17th mile and feeling a great deal of pride he carried on for another mile, he was now feeling eager to complete his journey. Now on the 18th mile his burst of pride had disappeared into thin air. It was getting dark and he had no watch because he sold it a couple of years ago, so he decided to guess the time and sleep under a nearby tree.

Morning had approached. And Ricky awoke from a very uncomfortable sleep. He stretched his limbs and sipped the remains of the soup. He shoved the empty can back into his pocket. He didn't want to walk so early in the morning but he knew he had too, to get to the town, which had been a desired thought of his for about 2 months. Nearing his destination, Ricky was extremely enthusiastic, just as he thought it couldn't possibly get any better, he found a $2 note on the paving.

Welcome to Westerly”, he had finally made it. Westerly welcomes him, the feeling of pride drastically came back too him.

November 1995

He had now been in the town of Westerly for 5 years. Ricky had now been homeless for 10 yeas, that was just too much for Ricky. On a November night Ricky collected all of his money together; the $2 that he had been saving all this time and 5 cents that he had recently found. He walked down to the Westerly Bar . He sat down on one of the many bar stools and demanded a triple distilled vodka. The bartender reached for a shot glass , filled it with the vodka and slid it towards him across the bar.

Ricky wrapped his hand around the glass and quickly swigged it. In and agonising mood he left the bar. Trudged down the street towards Westerly park. He entered the large metal gates, and walked down the concrete path. He stopped towards the edge of the lake and took a deep breath, he gradually stepped closer and closer until plummeted into the depths of the water.

There where minor ripples, they stopped and the body sank to the bottom of the lake.

Ricky Taylor died at the age of 40...


Ricky Taylor

1965 – 1995

There’s only a certain amount
people can handle


© Copyright 2020 Chaz01. All rights reserved.

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