Writer's Assignment - Someone Calls Your Name

It was late and it was cold. The street was dirty, filled with muddy water from the recent, heavy rains. It was dark; most of the street lights shattered by vandals and the few that were left seemed to make it darker rather than lighter. Random pieces of trash floated down the gutters turned impromptu rivers. My shoes were sodden, filled with water from the multiple openings in the soles. Had it still been raining, my heart would have filled with water as well, flowing in through the holes in my soul.

I tried to pull the threadbare coat tighter about my shoulders but it, too, was sopping wet and having little to no effect on keeping me warm. At least the boonie hat had kept most of the rain off my head. Both had come from a thrift store that wasn’t too concerned with how clean things were before they sold them. I had waged a small battle with certain bugs for several days before the folks at the shelter had helped me conquer them. Life hadn’t been all that wonderful lately.
“Hey, Frost, where are you going?”

I stopped dead in my tracks for a few seconds and then slowly turned around.

No one was there. Just more trash and more water. More cold. More emptiness. More darkness.
Had I been so sunk in my misery that I had started imagining that someone cared about me? I started to laugh but the dry, hacking cough I had developed in the last day or so stole my laughter and drowned it in its infancy. I couldn’t even begin to believe that someone had some sympathy or concern for me.

I turned back around and continued my plodding trek down the street; stumbling now and again over things hidden beneath the brown water. I don’t know why I continued in that direction – all directions led to that ultimate destination of a destitute and useless end.

“Hey, Frost, didn’t you hear me? I’m talking to you.”

I stopped again but didn’t turn around. What would be the purpose?

“What do you want?” I whispered.

“You, of course,” the voice spoke. “I want you.”

“Why?”

“Because you have no time left and I am here to collect you.”

Ah, I thought – the Grim Reaper. Thanatos. Apollyon. Abaddon. Death. Well, he would get no argument from me; I was more than ready to leave this mortal coil and shuffle off to my reward or, more likely, to my punishment.

“What took you so long?” I asked. “Why didn’t you show up a couple of years ago when I was on top – why wait until I had lost everything? Why the prolonged suffering?”

“Not my choice, friend. I’m only the transportation; it’s someone else’s decision as to when I show up.”

Surprisingly, the water in my face was warm and the pavement was soft as any mother’s love.