The Dark Journey - Chapter 4: Street Smart

[The Ravyn]

I suppose I should start this off with a strong warning about subject matter and content. This is a story of childhood sexual abuse, rape, drugs, prostitution, homelessness, slavery and ... eventually ... freedom.

Lonely tired and cold
terrified of the strange faces
wandering through the darkness
hiding where I can
searching for anything
Finding nothing
only more pain
despair
too worn out to go on
too hopeless to find hope
too angry to find peace
too frightened to be safe
A star
bright as day
shines on me
guides me through the maze
of temptation and necessity
sets me on the path of hope
helps me feel safe
lends me strength
and assures me that I can find peace
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Wandering the streets at night had become a habit for me since leaving home. I frequented the dumpsters and trash bins behind restaurants and grocery stores looking for food and anything else I could make use of. You would be surprised at the things people throw away just because of an expiration date.

As autumn moved along towards winter, I found myself in need of warmer clothing and bedding. My hideout was rather drafty and even putting up cardboard against the worst of the cracks didn't keep the wind from blowing through. I had been living in the crawl space under a building on California Avenue for two weeks. I was learning about street living, about downcast eyes and avoiding others.

Early one morning I was awakened by a sound from the other side of the building that I called home. I cautiously peered out of my hidey hole and saw a man setting up his own little space over there. I watched as he put up some old boards around his space and filled the cracks between with mud that he was pulling out of a large coffee can. He glance in my direction once or twice, but I didn't think he saw me. He was an older man of about 45 or 50. Even in the dim light I could see the gray of his beard and hair. He worked diligently on his space most of the day. I was impressed at his ingenuity and decided that I should mud up the holes and gaps in my walls as well.

I waited until he left on some errand or other and slipped out to find some mud and a can to put it in. The Kern river flowed southwest along here, so I made my way over there hunting through trash cans along the way. I found a large Van Kamps pork and beans can and decided that it should work for now. At the river, I found a nice patch of clayey mud and scooped it up and filled the can . As I entered my space, I noticed a small piece of paper tucked between one of the boards and the cardboard wall I had built. Curiosity filled me and I lit one of my candle stubs to read it.

'Hello. I hope you don't mind if I share this area with you for awhile. I promise you that I mean you no harm.'

I stared at the note for a few minutes and then shrugged. If he wanted to use the other end of the building, then why not. At least he was polite. Besides, I thought as I applied mud to the cracks and holes in my walls, he had just taught me a good trick in the fight for survival.

It took several trips to the river to get enough mud to fill all of the cracks and joints, but I finished up by midnight and retired to my makeshift bed knowing that tonight I wouldn't care if the cold wind blew.

The next morning I woke up to a knocking sound. I peered out from behind my cardboard inner wall and saw my new 'neighbor' peering back at me. Instinctively I retreated back into my refuge, but when he knocked again I thought 'He is knocking at my door!' and giggled a little bit. I returned to the opening.

'Hello.' He smiled and I could see the nest of wrinkles around his eyes.

'Hi'

'I was wondering if you would care to join me for breakfast this fine morning? I have taken the liberty of procuring a pound of bacon and some eggs from the local market place. I should consider it an honor if you would allow me to fix you a decent breakfast.'

Well, I was shocked and completely taken aback. Not only was he polite, he was well educated as well it seemed. I hesitated for a few moments, then smiled and said that it would be my pleasure to join him for breakfast. Stating that I would be there in a few minutes, I scurried back to my food cache and found three marginally smashed pop tarts and a small container of orange juice that I had scrounged up the previous day. After all, I couldn't go to breakfast empty handed!

As I approached his side of the building, I could smell bacon frying and hear the sizzling. I knocked on one of the support beams near his inner wall and he poked his head around the corner and motioned me to enter.

I was completely amazed at what I saw. He had transformed the dark and dingy crawl space into a very nicely organized living space with a kitchen area in the far corner, living area complete with an old and tattered but still quite comfortable looking waterbed backrest, and a curtained off area that I assumed must serve as a bedroom. There were small pictures on the wall, most appeared to have been cut from magazines and were of people in various costumes: knights and queens, flappers from the twenties, Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn from an old movie that I learned later was called African Queen, many other actors and actresses adorned his wall. There was a board set up as a bookshelf and it was lined with books.

I sat stunned staring around me. He put this all together in one day?

Noticing my attention to his decorations, he said 'So, you seem to be admiring my luxurious domicile and it's many fascinating works of art.' His eyes were dancing with good humor.

'It's amazing! I've been working on mine for weeks and I don't even have a picture on my wall! Oh, I want to thank you. I watched you patching the holes in here yesterday and I sort of copied you.'

'Good! I was hoping you would catch on! Now, let us dine on this fine repast that I have so humbly prepared for our pleasure and sustenance!'

After we had finished our breakfast he took the plates and utensils and placed them in a small canvas bag. When he returned to the 'table' he gave me a stern look.

'Now, I don't want to tell you how to live, young lady, but you have just made one of the worst mistakes you can make if you want to survive. Never! Never go with anyone you don't know into their dwelling place! You never know what their intentions are! Luckily for you, mine are completely honorable but the majority of streeters would love to do you harm. Now! I am going to educate you on the ways and means of street living at its finest ... And at its worst.'