Death of the Short Story

Street Corner Angel

              I let out a shaky breath, as I shoved my hands deeper into the pockets of my jacket. My arms were tucked, firmly to my sides as I tried to keep as much body heat in as possible. I was shaking slightly, but it wasn't nothin' I couldn't handle.

The dark Chicago streets surrounded me and the tall silent builds casted looming shadows that stretched from sidewalk to sidewalk. The streetlamps shone brightly like stars breaking up the dark shadows, but they were just far and dim enough to leave voided darkness in between. In this part of the city, the officials rarely sent anything or anyone to fix it up, so the cracked pavement and iron bars, that could be found on every window, was evidence enough. I don't blame them though, who would willingly come down to this part of the tracks. It was dingy and dangerous. It seemed like everyday a new somebody would be on the front page, sprawled out after a bad gang fight. "Examples of poor children being led to crime and delinquency due to their harsh upbringing" is what they called 'em. It's partly true, but they never did anything about it. They would preach about how they would up police in the areas where it was the worst, but again another day goes by and another nobody shows up in the paper.

I nervously checked the small wristwatch I had, before glancing up and looking down the street. My eyes uncontrollably searched the empty sidewalk, picking up every little piece of moment they could. He was late. I was supposed to be meeting one of my friends here, but he still hadn't showed after thirty minutes of waiting. I was always good at numbers, I didn't even really need the watch to tell me what time it was, I had subconsciously been counting since I had left my tiny apartment at 8:04 pm.

My Ma would have strung me up if she knew I was out here this late, but she works late on Tuesdays, so I had waited until she'd left before I did. She always worried about me and Nick. Wanting the best for us, but not having a way to give it to us. Speaking of Nick, he usually would be getting home around this time, and I prayed that he would be tired and just collapse on the couch without checking in on me. Nick wasn't my brother, but he was close enough, I guess. He had come to us at the age of thirteen and had been on the streets, we didn't how long. He never liked to talk about it much. At first, he refused our help, even as a kid he was as stubborn as a jackass, but eventually my Ma convinced him with a lot of help from the homemade meals she always left out for him.

He was now nineteen and he'd practically become another son to my Ma, and she loved him just as one. Nick had always looked out for me. He didn't go to school like I did, claimed he had started to late and instead convinced my Ma that when he'd walk me to school, he'd go too, but would run off. He was always waiting for me though. When I got out of school I mean. He was always waiting for me by the time I got out there. He told me it was just so that Ma would see that he had 'come home for school', but I figured it was just to make sure I got back safe.

I felt guilty about bein' out here, but my friend had said it was urgent. However, like I had said I'd been out here for more than thirty minutes, and I wasn't about to freeze to death in a Chicago street corner for a no show. I shoved my hand back into my pocket, muttering curses to myself as I turned from my spot. I had made it around five steps away from my spot under the lamppost when I heard a sharp call of my name, making me stop. I tentatively turned my head to look over my shoulder, but felt my shoulders drop when I saw it was Randy, the guy I had been waiting for.

"Where do you think you're goin', Paulie?" He sneered out, with a smirk plastered on his acne ridden face. He was a skinny guy and the fact that he always wore jeans and jackets to big for him, didn't help. He had greasy brown hair that was slicked back, with a park in the middle. His beady black eyes shown in the low light, and his yellowing teeth, gleaming in the lamps.

"How many times have I told you not to call me that?" I huffed as I turned around and met him halfway," You know how long I've waited out here for you? Nearly froze to death!"