SHORT STORY: Track 10 – Eyes of a Child

Track 10 – Eyes of a Child

Clarissa Ewings ran through the park as the sun almost finished its descent of the day. Beads of sweat were escaping down her face as she hastily hustled towards home; if only she had lived closer. So much to do and not enough hours in the day, she thought to herself, allowing her mind to become overwhelmed once again.

Clarissa had to get home to Johnny and Jacob before six so that the babysitter would not charge an additional hour; money she could not afford to hand out. She had to make a quick dinner, probably pasta, before Bethany and Clyde had to leave for their part time jobs; it was sweet of them to help out, but Clarissa wished she could support them all so that this was not the case. She needed to help Frank with his math, help Susan with her reading, and make sure the other seven did not kill each other with rough housing while she did all that. On top of the children, she needed to find a cheap plumber to fix the toilet, but how to would find the money to pay for it she did not know. She wished that the broken toilet could go the way of the broken toaster and vacuum and that was to just stay broken, but a toilet seemed like a necessary item.

Lost in her thoughts Clarissa tripped over something on the sidewalk and almost lost the small brown bag she was carrying, which was the whole reason she was out in the first place. In her bag were Johnny and Jacob’s cold medicine, and a full array of her prescriptions for anxiety, depression, and various other medications to treat the ailments of an overworked, overstressed, single working mother of thirteen. Clarissa looked down on what she had tripped over and her eyes went wide and her heart sunk.



Meanwhile, on the other side of the park Royston Jenkins trudged along in a zombie like state as per his typical daily ritual. His mind was thinking of nothing but sleep as he clung to the worn newspaper gripped in his fist. Visible on the newspapers pages were highlighter marks and red circles around various employment opportunities for anyone with no discernible life skills.

Royston coughed into his free hand and looked down at the paper thinking, how was he going to handle a fourth job? He got no sleep as it was, waking up at four in the morning to get to the hotel to serve as their watchman, and then for a few hours later he would head to the hospital to serve as a file clerk if they have anything that needed filing, and then after filing, he headed through the park to wait on tables at the diner, sometimes until two in the morning; and then the routine restarted.

When would he even have time for another job, he asked himself, but he did not really want to know the answer, all he knew was that he needed money to get his car back, pay his lousy ex-girlfriend child support so that she did not have to lift a finger and could just float through life. He also needed to earn enough money to pay for the medication and doctor’s visits he had to frequent as of late; ironically enough, his decreased health was due entirely on overexerting himself and running himself down, which he did so partially to pay the bills to make him healthy again. As Royston let his mind go he could not help but see a woman standing over a crumpled form, and even though he was already running late and his tips would suffer as a result, he had to stop.



Cat saw the two adults standing over a small and filthy boy laying there on the ground, and even at her mature age of thirteen she could not help but reminisce about when she first hit the streets seven years ago and degraded herself to once thought unthinkable things to earn money. That was around the time she ran into Rick, who said he would take care of her, and in a way he did, but it was not exactly the caring a young girl would have hoped for. Cat knew that she was just a tool to Rick to turn a profit, but for a while she was alright with their arrangement as she had no other options.

Not sensing the girl behind her, Clarissa looked down at the quietly whimpering boy and extended a hand. Should she take him in, she asked herself. She already had thirteen children at home and, although she may not be able to identify which deadbeat father sired which one, as if it mattered because they were never going to come around anyway, what was one more? He was clearly in need and she thought about what it must be like for him living all alone on the streets. Children are supposed to have high hopes and ambitions, to dream of the stars, and not have to go on day by day wondering if you will eat any time soon. Being a child was supposed to be a glorious feeling of ignorant bliss before learning of all the turmoil in the world; this boy needed love.

Royston watched as the woman leaned in and touched the boys shoulder and he let a tear run down his cheek. His whole life he was thinking about himself and by doing so he filled himself with rage. He was working hard to earn all the money he could to pay for his child, and who cared if his lousy ex-girlfriend lived off of it? He was providing a home for his son, he was providing food for his son, and that was all that really mattered. This tattered boy lying on the ground in a dark park did not have any of that Royston knew; and it broke his heart.

Cat watched the two adults and she felt a sudden twitch of nerve run through her, a side effect of one of the toxins the wonderful Rick had introduced to her, and she was beginning to go through withdrawals. She then looked down at the boy and she smiled. This boy has no home, and has no family, and has no food, she knew. These two adults see that and they feel sorrow for him because they think a better life exists out there for him, Cat sighed. I know there is a better life out there for him as well, Cat smirked and raised her hands in front of her, and I know that the optimistic thoughts of the fools won’t do anything for him, but that doesn’t mean they are of no use.

“Empty your wallets,” Cat demanded as the two spun around with stunned faces as a thirteen year old girl waved a pistol back and forth between them.

The two obeyed in fortified shock as the girl collected the small amount of money while her filthy and despicable accomplice stood from the sidewalk and joined her at her side. Cat smiled at her partner, an eight year old con artist in training named Tim, and the two ran along their way; just a few more scores like this and they could truly run away from it all for good.