Homeless for the Holidays

The Hyperion Chronicles

#330 Homeless for the Holidays

His eyes glaze over and he looks up at…what…I don’t know. His expression is…not lost…but traveling. In his mind I could see him taking a journey back…to places I’d never been, things I’d never seen. He stays there for some time, and then he opens his mouth and begins to speak.
-December 25, 2002

I first decided to do this about a week before. I was home alone for the month, and much like now having a lot of trouble walking. Getting to my immediate family was a luxury that wasn’t going to happen, and while there was extended family not far way who would have been more than happy to come get me, instead I isolated myself. Go figure.

I knew a little about the periphery of my neighborhood homeless population. I’d take long walks—when I could walk properly—late into the night and often run into several old mainstays. I was extremely curious about these guys and decided to spend Christmas with a few of them, hoping to see the world through their eyes and what made them tick.

The day started off a little bit after 7. I had a small tape recorder with me, and my pen and notebook. I left my wallet at home. It’s not like that would have made a difference money-wise, but I didn’t want any identity today.


With the sad passing of Maureen O'Hara, I broke out my Top list of Redheads from back in 2006. (Originally the list was 50, but upon publishing I immediately realized I made terrible omissions, and a supplemental list was necessary.)

Remember, all the jokes are nine years old! But don't focus on that, focus on the lovely Gingers, especially Maureen.

The 100th Word

[this was my first attempt at a 100 word scary story, based on the painting La Tentation de Sainte Antoine by David Teniers the Younger. What makes it (potentially) scary? The Title.]

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me….

Have a drink with us. The Lord would be pleased if you thirst.

Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed by thy….

You need to relax. Enjoy yourself a little! That fine girl down the lane might be just what you need.

Oh Lord, hear me! Demons surround me and I feel afflicted! I cannot hold them off!

What demons? There is none here but friends.

Okay. You win. I will go. What if her mother sees?

It was her idea. She was tired of raising a toddler.


[part of the 100-word story series, where stories have to be exactly 100 words.]

He sits, 
The only sound a faint rasp of his 
Shadow-laced breath. 
To look at him, he might appear asleep, 
Certainly docile, in no way threatening. 
Except, to look at him is to invite your own destruction, for 
No mortal has ever laid eyes upon his form and lived to tell the tale. 
He is the Enemy of Hope, and more precise I dare not be, 
For it is not only seeing him that draws his attention, 
But mere awareness. 
Even now, 
He feels your eyes 
Glide over these words; 
His breathing 
Quickens, and 
Searing Flame. 

When I Died

When I died, 
            there was a parade in my honor.

Just kidding: 
            there was no parade. 

When I died, 
            people were sad. 

Just kidding: 
            people were not sad. 

When I died, 
            there was no parade in my honor 

and people were not sad.

Just kidding: 
            I did not die. 

But now I know what happened when I did. 

Shimmering Sadness

Once upon a time her scent assaulted;


Now Sadness shimmers off her body in waves.

Her eyes see no sight to comfort,
Her lips speak no sound to heal.
Her skin seals her together,
Stopping the exsanguination of sorrow,
While her soul splits at the seams.

Sadness is not learned;
It is earned.