A little Christmas story for you.
Done for a prompt left over at the nano-lj's comm. I thought I'd share. I like this a lot, actually.
The busy area of the Grand Central Station is overflowing with the hustle and bustle of the crowd. It isn’t hard to get lost in the flow of it, and there are times when she’s wondered what it would be like to simply step into the moving torrent of people and get swept away by the increasing pace and rapid turns that they take.
She watches a young boy trip, quickly scooped up by his mother, and her mind reverts to a time when she’d been that size, and how terrifying this area must have been. Legs, she thinks. That’s all he’d really see. It isn’t a comforting thought.
Of course, the view of people’s faces isn’t entirely comforting either. There’s a sense of panic, of urgency and loneliness that permeates this place. Curious, to be sure - after all this is a place for grand reunions, or the beginning of a trip home to family. Especially at this time of year.
She sinks back down, her back to a pillar and hugs her knees. She suddenly has the same view as that little boy - legs passing her by in a flurry. If she laid herself out as far as she could, would they step over her? Around her? How many would trip over her, or step on her in complete disregard.
It was a hard thing to know. She’d grown up thinking that life was more or less good - that things were more or less happy.
Life had proven her wrong. Over and over again she’d been bashed against the rocks on the side of that river.
She just wanted to rest for a moment, and so she’d come here. It wasn’t the crowd or the hub-bub that had drawn her, but the loneliness in the midst of it all. What was that saying; ‘misery loves company?’ She was alone in watching, but she could see echoes of her own misery etched upon nearly every face that passed by.
Not the youngsters though. Their smiles were genuine. Their eyes were still bright with the idea of travel and family and playing and adventure. She wished that for each of them - that they could just hold on to that sense of wonder.
A little girl stopped in front of her, and her bright smile faded into a concentrated look - funny on her small features.
“Why are you sad?” The little girl asked. “It’s Christmas time. You should be happy.”
She was just about to come up with an answer when the little girl’s mother came along, barely sparing her a glance before hoisting the girl into the safety of her arms, the comfort of sitting on her hip.
She longed to be cradled that way once more. The question remained echoing through her mind and she mouthed the words lightly. “Why am I sad?”
“Excuse me miss.”
This time it was an employee of the station that found her. She looked up at him with tired eyes and he shook his head sadly.
“I’m sorry, Miss, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
He did seem to regret it, perhaps his manager had made him be the one to kick her out, but he escorted her to the cold biting air of the outdoors - away from the paying customers who had been affronted by her presence.
She pulled her threadbare jacket closer around her, casting one last glance at the people still milling about inside.
It had been nice to get warm for a little bit, anyhow. After all, it was Christmas.
The busy area of the Grand Central Station is overflowing with the hustle and bustle of the crowd. It isn’t hard to get lost in the flow of it, and there are times when she’s wondered what it would be like to simply step into the moving torrent of people and get swept away by the increasing pace and rapid turns that they take.
She watches a young boy trip, quickly scooped up by his mother, and her mind reverts to a time when she’d been that size, and how terrifying this area must have been. Legs, she thinks. That’s all he’d really see. It isn’t a comforting thought.
Of course, the view of people’s faces isn’t entirely comforting either. There’s a sense of panic, of urgency and loneliness that permeates this place. Curious, to be sure - after all this is a place for grand reunions, or the beginning of a trip home to family. Especially at this time of year.
She sinks back down, her back to a pillar and hugs her knees. She suddenly has the same view as that little boy - legs passing her by in a flurry. If she laid herself out as far as she could, would they step over her? Around her? How many would trip over her, or step on her in complete disregard.
It was a hard thing to know. She’d grown up thinking that life was more or less good - that things were more or less happy.
Life had proven her wrong. Over and over again she’d been bashed against the rocks on the side of that river.
She just wanted to rest for a moment, and so she’d come here. It wasn’t the crowd or the hub-bub that had drawn her, but the loneliness in the midst of it all. What was that saying; ‘misery loves company?’ She was alone in watching, but she could see echoes of her own misery etched upon nearly every face that passed by.
Not the youngsters though. Their smiles were genuine. Their eyes were still bright with the idea of travel and family and playing and adventure. She wished that for each of them - that they could just hold on to that sense of wonder.
A little girl stopped in front of her, and her bright smile faded into a concentrated look - funny on her small features.
“Why are you sad?” The little girl asked. “It’s Christmas time. You should be happy.”
She was just about to come up with an answer when the little girl’s mother came along, barely sparing her a glance before hoisting the girl into the safety of her arms, the comfort of sitting on her hip.
She longed to be cradled that way once more. The question remained echoing through her mind and she mouthed the words lightly. “Why am I sad?”
“Excuse me miss.”
This time it was an employee of the station that found her. She looked up at him with tired eyes and he shook his head sadly.
“I’m sorry, Miss, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
He did seem to regret it, perhaps his manager had made him be the one to kick her out, but he escorted her to the cold biting air of the outdoors - away from the paying customers who had been affronted by her presence.
She pulled her threadbare jacket closer around her, casting one last glance at the people still milling about inside.
It had been nice to get warm for a little bit, anyhow. After all, it was Christmas.