Ever have one of those times where you plan to work on a project, but then you find yourself working on something else instead? Yeah, that’s me right now. In light of that, I think January’s Weekend Writing Warrior posts will be random excerpts from random stories, at least until my brain is able to focus on one project for an extended length of time.
Today’s excerpt comes from “Dust,” a short story I wrote while taking a class in southern India a couple years ago.
* * * * * * * * * *
Dust is everywhere; it blankets the streets and sidewalks, stray dogs and trash. Dust is disturbed by passing buses and motorbikes and rickshaws, mixing with their exhaust to form a perpetual haze throughout the city. Dust, along with the odors of garbage and spices and a million people crammed together, is inescapable.
Gheeta, a creature of the streets, has been surrounded by dust for so long she no longer notices it as it cakes her bare feet, decorates her sari and hair, and flavors whatever food she is lucky enough to obtain.
She hobbles along a street near a bazaar that attracts both tourists and locals. A tumor on the bridge of her nose has rendered her nearly blind, with just enough peripheral vision to avoid vehicles when she crosses the street. They wouldn’t intentionally hit her – too much bad karma – but to be safe she follows groups when she can, groups like the one approaching now, made up of Westerners. Perhaps they’ll be generous and give her many rupees, not knowing their value in her country.
“Feed Gheeta,” she keens as she approaches them, pantomiming scooping food to her mouth.
They continue walking.
* * * * * * * * * *
Post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.
If you’re a writer, sign up to be a Friday Five author, which gets you and your latest work featured on my blog.
And then sign up for my mailing list to get a FREE ebook short story, “A Place to Die,” about a guy in hospice who’s in denial about his illness.