Human Trash – Friday Fictioneers

I was having a lazy day, darlings, and I didn’t realize that it was Friday Fictioneers day (that’d be Wednesday to the uninitiated into the ways of the great purple addiction — and our mutual dealer, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields)

This week’s story is a sad one, I’m afraid. I hope you enjoy it.

If you want to read the others, or participate, do be sure to GO HERE and read and comment.

Rochelle also provided this week’s photo.

———————-

copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“How long you reckon she’s been here?” The young cop asked his partner.

The woman, wrapped in an ancient parka and lying amid bags of trash, had been dead for days.

“Awhile, kid,” the older man said. “She lived here, more’n likely. People probably passed her a hundred times. Others threw their garbage on her. Thought it was funny.”

The younger man gritted his teeth and spat.

“Human trash!” He said with disgust.

His partner rebuked him. “Hey now! Have some respect for the dead.”

“Not her,” he said, fighting back tears, “the people who let this happen to her.”

—————–

100 Words precisely.

 

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64 responses to “Human Trash – Friday Fictioneers

  1. Sad. I am reminded of the bag ladies that push their shopping carts around Orlando all day. I wonder where they go at night. The downtown homeless shelter charges three dollars.

    • Yes, that’s what I was going for — these people often sleep in doorways or stairwells, or inside ATM booths. Sometimes they huddle up against the trash bins outside of restaurants and such because the trash is warm. Really sad.

  2. You told this one just right, Helena. I often think that being a policeman must be very difficult as you’re dealing mostly with people doing things they shouldn’t and with the underbelly of life. I hope this young man can keep his sympathy and still function as a policeman.

    janet

  3. It’s all a matter of perspective, and it takes an insightful person to see the humanity inside anyone. Actually, it takes a blind person not to see it inside everyone. Beautifully written story, Helena. I think yours could be sort of an alternate universe parallel to mine, if the woman in mine hadn’t been found when she did.

  4. Pingback: Friday Fictioneers – Stars | The Blurred Line·

  5. Nice! I like that the anger of the rookie seemed to be directed one way, but was intended in the opposite. Lovely irony to this sad scenario. You really put together a terrific one,

    • Yes, but imagine the K.Z. continuation: Suddenly, the trash shifted slightly, and the two cops jumped, startled. Then they laughed at each other to ease the tension. Their hearts had nearly returned to the usual cadence when the trash shifted again, and a hollow howling sound began to rise from the heap, accompanied by a miasma that smelled so foul that the men began to retch, their eyes watering. A sea of rats poured out from amid the black plastic bags and food waste, fleeing some unknown horror. Slowly, a re-animated hand rose from the darkness beneath the stairs, and an inhuman voice cried out:
      “Filth! Trash! Human waste! Bring me more!”
      Frozen in place, the younger cop felt a warm stream of urine pour down his leg, and all the spit in his mouth dried up. He looked to his partner for assistance, but the man seemed to be considering some decision.
      “I’m really sorry about this, kid,” the older man said, and grabbed his young partner by his shirt. “But it’s either you or me.”
      Officer Brock walked off shaking his head and dreading the paperwork he’d have to fill out by the end of the day.

      • I just read this writing above – Wow – and you’re right there would be a hell of a lot of paperwork to fill out when he got back to the precinct. It pays to be the stronger policeman. Wonderfully Creepy Helena – how do you do it so easily? Nan 🙂

  6. Good story. The youger policeman still has a great deal of feeling. The older policeman feels no doubt, but has learned to protect himself, developed a protective shell, because he’s seen so much. He can’t let it effect his work. He’s also in charge of helping to train the younger man so he has that responsibility.

  7. Very nice. I wonder how much longer the younger policeman will keep feeling the way he does before he sees enough that he begins to disassociate.

  8. Oh sad, indeed, Helena. You really captured a dreary scene that may be all too true. Really well done. I liked the humanity shown at the end there.

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