I woke with a start. Napping. A luxury that I could not afford. I was about to lose my apartment. No job for weeks. No prospects. Just short stints here and there. Just like the rest of the world. Or at least like everybody in my world.

I went into the bathroom, and did my business. Then, I washed my face. Or at least splashed some cold water on my face. What was I going to do?

I tripped on the small throw rug in the kitchen. That was when I heard the jingle in my pocket. I reached in and found six quarters. A buck and a half. Whooey! I was rich. I decided that a condemned man is entitled to one last meal. Even if was just a couple Ho Hos that I could buy at the convenience store down the street.

I walked down the hall. Jimmy must have super hearing, because he called out to me as I passed his open door.

“Yo, Marty! Whatcha gonna do with all that change jangling in your pocket? Why don’tcha come play a couple hands of blackjack with us?”

I looked in the door, and shook my head. “Nah. I’m gonna go get a last meal before they toss me outa this dump. A man deserves a last meal. Right?”

Jimmy smiled. It made me think of the grin that the devil musta given to Adam and Eve way back in the garden. Made me shiver. But I still listened.

“Well if that’s all it takes… C’mon in and take a load off. Have a slice of pizza and a drink.”

“Now, you know I don’t drink. I…”

“It’s just soda. You can have a whole can. Unopened.”

“Well…”

“On me.” Jimmy smiled that smile. “Ah c’mon. Just a little blackjack. I’m the house.”

That pizza might have been greasy and cold, but it smelled good. And it was probably better than a Ho Ho. I stepped in and sat down at the table.

I hedged my bets and pulled three of my quarters out of my pocket, and put them in front of me.

“Ah c’mon now. I know I heard more quarters in your pocket than those measly three. Why don’tcha see if you can give ‘em some company in that lonely pocket of yours?”

I reached in and pulled out one more quarter trying not to scrape it on the other two in there.

“You gonna bet that all on one hand?”

“Nah. I figure I better just go a quarter at a time so I can get me some pizza in my belly.”

Jimmy winked. “That’s good thinkin’. Go ahead and have a piece while I deal.”

I grabbed a slice and gobbled it down while Jimmy dealt the cards. Two down to everybody and one down, one up to himself. Well, I got two or three blackjacks and had myself a lot more money than I had coming in after just half an hour. But I only had that one piece of pizza. And it was turning in my stomach. Or maybe I was feeling the anxiety of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Uh, Jimmy.” Jimmy looked up at me. “I know it’s bad form to take the money and run, but my gut’s doin’ summersaults, and I gotta leave real soon.”

Jimmy smiled. “I’ll tell you what. You just take what you want from that pile and put it in your pocket. Then bet the rest on this next hand, right? I’m sure it’s gonna be a great hand.”

I knew Jimmy better than that. His generosity was not his strong suit. I slid the whole pile forward on the table as my bet. I grabbed as many coins as I could without letting anybody see or hear. “Okay. I’m all in as those gamblers always say.”

Well, it was obvious that I was not going to win. I was dealt a ten and a three. I hit and got a nine. Bust.

“Well, I guess you’re done man.”

“I guess so.” I stood.

Jimmy frowned. “Wait a minute. You forgot to pay for that pizza slice.”

“But you said…”

“I said have a slice. I only said the soda, which you did’t have, was on me. But I didn’t say you didn’t hafta pay for the pizza. Normally, it’s a buck a slice, but for you, those last two quarters in your pocket ought to do.”

I reached in my pocket and fished out the two quarters. It was the last of the money I had brought into the room with me. I set it on the table.

Jimmy smiled. “Nice doin’ business with you Marty. Don’t be a stranger after they kick you out.” He and his buddies laughed.

I walked down the hall toward the front door. I put the quarters that I had managed to sneak from the pile into my pockets. So quiet that Jimmy could not hear them over the laughter in his room. Five in each pocket. Not quite double, but enough for a Ho Ho.

I might not have had any prospects for the next day, but I felt like I was on top of the world with more money in my pocket than I had just an hour before.

“your soul,” the man offers deceitfully in a crackling low tone. I hesitantly chuckle before realizing the offer wasn’t the joke I thought it was. Under the frantically flicking lights of the club, I fix my eyes at him. “So you just need my ‘soul’ and you’ll buy me a drink?” I question him further, hoping this delusional man would buy me something I couldn’t afford. A surprisingly wide grin creeping along his face, he assures me, “of course, a deal is that of a deal.” My hand jingling the few pocket change I had, I decide to take up the mans offer. “Sure, get me one of those Fireballs,” I expressed eagerly. “Ap bah bah bah, you must shake on it,” he interrupts, grin becoming more sinister. His slender palm extends towards mine. I notice the odd beads and gem brackets that clutter his wrists while his hand opens up. I hesitate briefly from the creepy vibes coming from this man, but I give his wrinkly hand a good shake. I’ve never felt the same since that day. I always get this tingling sensation in my left foot.

Sitting around at home alone with a beer didn’t seem like a way to spend a Friday night right?

I am out! Out and about! Grabbed all the money I had and joined the night scene. I think I have about 4 dollars in change. I’m really killing it with my job as a waiter.

I am at the bus stop near my apartment. On the floor. I guess I had more to drink than I thought. I should really get up but I just can’t help but stare at the stars. My eyelids are getting a little heavy. I think I’m going to-

Oh. My phone is ringing now. I’m getting a call. Bet all the change in my pocket that it’s my ex-wife. Maybe it’s the something to do with the kids.

I’ve pondered too long. The ringing stops and I hear the ding of a text instead. I should read what she texted. I squint my eyes and try to comprehend the characters but it’s hard. I’ll sit up. I grab the bench near me and pull my body to sit against it. I look up and see people walking past me. Well, walking over me really. They’re bursting with the energy of city night life, designer clothes, and prestigious company. I’m just as lonely out here than I was in my apartment. No atmosphere can change that.

My gaze catches something.

Nearby there is another man, sitting against an alley wall.

His clothes are torn up and dirty. He has heavy bags under his eyes and is as skinny as a stick. He’s homeless. A lonely scene. He might be thinking the same things about me. I sit up further and shake my head. I pull up my ex’s text again.

“We’re always here for you. Be good.”

Everyone knows you’re struggling with something when you’re an alcoholic with money issues, I guess. If only turning your life around was an easy thing to do. I look back up at the homeless man. He makes eye contact with me.

I slowly pull myself up to stand and walk. It’s a little wobbly but better than a toddler at least. I approach him with a surprisingly blank mind. Standing right in front of him, I open my mouth to say something, but quickly shut it again.

I hesitate once more.

And again.

Nothing comes out.

I reach into my pocket and grab all the change I have and dump it into the small cardboard box in front of him. I give a smile and nod. He does the same. I turn and begin walking away.

That’s a start right?

The dogs were not barking, they were howling. Their howls pierced the night air not like a bat piercing the side of a piñata to unleash a candy cornucopia, but like a needle-pierced water balloon with so many holes you can’t stop it from spilling.

I stepped outside of my apartment and into the night’s black with a little less than $20 and no real plan. I usually didn’t mind the neighbor’s dogs, but they usually didn’t howl. Or perhaps they did how but it just wasn’t as shrill and chilling of a howl as it was tonight. Maybe I just couldn’t bare to sit alone on my couch with the thought of what I’d done. Or rather what I wanted to do, but didn’t do, and then what happened because of it, or because not it.

I had the intention of going into a random bar and sitting there alone at the bar, sing us a song you’re the piano man vibes. But as I walked past a Chinese restaurant- not one of the trendy ones with graphic designed menus with bold fonts and cute drawings, but one old and run down one which I’d never bothered to even look into- a plate of streamed dumplings suddenly seemed like a necessity. Not a craving, a need.

I walked in and no one noticed me. I sat myself down at a table which, luckily, had a menu on it so I didn’t have to ask anyone for one. $6.99 for a plate of chicken and shrimp dumplings, $4.99 for a vegetable only. I ordered the chicken and shrimp ones and opted for tap water, no, excuse me, a beer? Yes please just one.

(Use imagery and descriptions of what things are NOT, not so much what they are) hauling is play on howling but hauling his guilt for what he didnt do

It is the third year of the pandemic and it has been a rough year for Nolan. First he lost his parents to Covid, the deadly virus that has taken the world by storm. Then he was furloughed from his job in the service industry because the government has determined that his position was not “essential” in managing the pandemic. Lastly, the family grief and financial stress of this pandemic has put a strain on his marriage of twenty-seven years. More and more bills were piling up and not getting paid, and Nolan’s decision to numb his grief with pain medications did not help the situation. Tonight was the last straw, not only did Nolan’s wife, Danielle, change all the locks on the doors at home, but she obtained restraining order against him due to his destructive nature of punching holes in the wall when angry and she froze his accounts in order to save all that they had.

With only handful of change in his pocket and no where to go, Norman heads for the men’s shelter for the night, but there is no room; so it is a night on the streets for now. “Whoa, it is cold and windy tonight, that is for sure” as he pulls up his collar to his neck as an attempt to block out the cold.

He heads to the local pub to hang out for awhile at least it is warm for now. He just asks for some tonic water, if it looks like he has a “drink” he won’t be asked for another and he can stay awhile longer.

Last call! That is the sign, and Norman heads out the door. Again he is on the hunt for a warm place to sleep tonight. He gets two blocks down the street and suddenly someone shouts to him, “Hey, Sir! Wait!” as the shadow runs toward him. It is a young woman and she seems to be in distress. “Please, sir do you have any spare change, I need to use the pay phone to make an urgent call. It is a matter of life and death!”

Immediately, Nolan gives the stranger approximately three dollars in change, no questions asked. Early in his life, Nolan remembered learning, “Be kind to strangers, for you might be entertaining angels,” Hebrews 13:2. The woman thanked him and before he knew it she was gone in the darkness. Nolan found a place to sleep that night, near the pub he had visited.

Surprisingly, the next day Nolan was walking around town looking to see if any of the local merchants were hiring. “Excuse me, Mr. Roberts, may I have a word with you?” a young man approached him, “Were you at Smitty’s last night?” Puzzled by this inquiry, Nolan responded, “Yes, yes I was, how may I help you mister..?”. “Anderson, John, Anderson” as he hold out his hand to Nolan. “I overheard the story you told the bartender last night and I wanted to come over to talk to you, but you left before I able to do so.”

The young man explained that he founded a new hair care product line right before the pandemic hit. He was about to lay off the majority of his staff when he realized he could change one or two things in his processing plant that allowed the plant to produce hand sanitizer. With the pandemic continuing and an increased demand for hand sanitizer he is planning to open up another plant in the next month. After hearing about Nolan’s background, he thought Nolan would be a good fit for a sales manager position within the company. “Why don’t we go back to Smitty’s and discuss the details?” John advised, and Nolan agreed.

When they returned to the pub, the bartender greeted them and said, “Oh Mr. Roberts, you forgot your ID last night,” as he slides the card back to Nolan. “I also have a message from your wife, she asks if you to can give her a call, she would like to talk to you”. The bartender, explained when he discovered Nolan had left the ID card he looked up the information on the card and called his address thinking Nolan would be home. The bartender talked to his wife for a moment and she began to look at things differently, she then asked the bartender to give Nolan a message if he should return to the pub anytime soon.

After having a bite to eat and an extensive discussion with Mr. Anderson, Nolan decides it was time to give Danielle a call. She answers, and the tone in her voice had changed, instead of abrupt and confrontational it was now soft and humble. She apologized for everything that had happened between the two of them and asked Nolan to come home. She also asked Nolan if he would be willing to go to counseling with her. She explained that with Covid and everything that was happening she was afraid of losing him too like his parents and so many others. She didn’t want to lose what they had built for so many years. Nolan said, things would take time and not just expect change over night. Danielle understood this and agreed to his conditions. Nolan then shared the news of his new job, and that it was more pay than what he was making previously. “It would be a fresh start”, he said and she agreed.

It’s one a.m., sixteen year old Jessica is exhausted she just spent the past six hours in Hell. A few weeks ago she met a guy online, “Brian” on Bookchat, a chat room for book enthusiasts. She had been “talking” to Brian for the past three weeks. He said he was 18 and a student over at Central. She was a junior at Emerson, she told him. They have been talking about the latest vampire series online and tonight was the first time they were going to meet in person.

Brian told her to just tell her folks she was going out with one of her girlfriends, tonight and once they were done she was just going to stay at the friends house that night, “no problem” he said. He said he would come pick her up at the school at 7pm and then they can go to a live poetry reading downtown.

“Sounds great,” she said, “See you then”. It is 7 p.m. and a 18 yr old year boy with black hair pulls up to the school in a black Ford mustang. “Jessica?” he says, “Brian” she responds. The two of them then drive downtown to “Wise Guys” a local comedy club that offered monthly poetry readings. Brain and Jessica walked in and sat down at a table left of the stage and listened to a poem called “Ode of Joy”. Things were going well until 30 minutes in the set, Jessica wasn’t feeling well, she was feeling hot and dizzy. “Uh can we step for a moment, this place is getting too stuffy.”

That is the last thing Jessica remembered, the next thing she realizes she is in a bedroom of a run down apartment building. Out the window she can see a neon sign that says “Smitty’s” just down the street. She glances down and sees her clothes are in disarray. The necklace with her name on it is missing. She glances over and sees a wallet on the dresser and checks the ID, it is definitely “Brian’s” photo but the name says Michael Dawson, age 35! She glances around the corner and sees, Brian, uh Michael, sleeping on the couch with empty beer cans around him on the floor.

With her senses coming back to her she realizes she is in a dangerous situation and must get out as soon as possible. She sees the door but it has triple deadbolt locks, “no time to look for a key now,” she thought. She looked out the window and saw a neighbor’s fire escape. “That is the only way”, she thought as she quick grabs a few bills from the dresser and climbs out on to the window ledge. The fire escape is just a few feet over.

Jessica makes a leap for it and lands on the fire escape with a “clang”, luckily at the same time a car backfires and muffles her sound. There is no response from the apartment over. She immediately travels down the fire escape and runs down the street toward “Smitty’s” looking for help.

The city clock strikes one, and Jessica is exhausted. She sees the pub has closed and she sees one of its patrons walking down the street. Hey, Sir! Wait!” she shouts running toward Nolan Roberts as he turns around. Jessica explains to him,”Please, sir do you have some spare change, I need to use the pay phone to make an urgent call. It is a matter of life and death!”

Without any pause, Nolan hands her all the change he has, appropriately three dollars “thanks,” she said, and off she goes in the darkness to find a pay phone. She sees one on the next street over and immediately calls her parents to tell them where she is and to contact the police immediately, it is a matter of life and death.

The police are dispatched to her location and they pick Jessica up to take her to station for questioning. She is reunited with her parents a few hours later. As she walks out of the station she sees a homeless person asking for donations. She slowly walks up to him and gently places two bills and some change into the cup….

“Only a few euros and cents.” Said Emma, a hand into her pockets. “I won’t go far. But might as well enjoy it while it lasts.” Nicolas shrugged. “As you wish. You know I don’t have anything left personally. So you’re in charge. We do whatever you want.” “I want to go out.” She looks at him quizzically. “But I never said “we” would do anything.” Nicolas smiled. “Like you could get rid of me that easily, sis.” She rolled her eyes but didn’t fight him. She still likes having him around. She just didn’t want to admit it. “So, to the fair, then!” She smiled when Nicolas growled. He didn’t like fairs. Rides made him sick. “Relax. We won’t be able to do much without money. I just want to go there.” The fair was just outside of town and they soon git there with the car. It was Saturday and people where out on the town. Or out on the fair. As they were taking their bags, Emma showed Nicolas she took a knife. A warrior’s knife. “What the … ? Do you know something I don’t ?” “I have gotten intel, but I didn’t know how much I could trust it. But yes, thdre might be some monsters here.” “Well, I don’t like the fair much, but that night has gotten way more interesting suddenly. But why not tell me before?” “Because you’re never inconspicuous when you’re prepared.” And on that note, she decided to buy cotton candy at a stand with the rest of her change.

With only a handful of shillings left in my pocket, I take a stroll. What have I left to lose?

The sound of freshly shoed horses echos through the alleyways. I make my way to the pub downtown. I might as well pick up an ale with the last of my earnings. I enter the pub from a door in the back. Years of piracy lead to a keen sense remaining in the shadows. I make my way through the back of the brewery, a few drunkards lay asleep against old oak barrels. The fruity aroma fills my nostrils. I inhale… time for a drink! I step over the drunkards and walk through the wooden swinging doors leading to the back side of the bar. I glance to my right, stools lined beneath the dirty bar. To my left, tables full of old sailors drinking their sorrows away. They’re not too keen of my kind of people. Though, I’m not much of a pirate without a ship. I’ve settled with the fact that I, too, will be an old drunken sailor drinking my sorrows away. Longing for the past, dreading the future.

I tighten up my tattered cloak a bit, hiding the stories of the sea inked across my body. I walk towards the bar, scanning the room for escape routes. They change from night to night, depending on which exits are blocked by sleeping drunks. I’ve tripped over a few since being washed up here. I’ve also been tripped over a few times… I grin, laughing in my head at my own self deprecating quip.

I toss the last of my shillings onto the bar. The sound of silver hitting the wooden bar was enough to grab the attention of the bartender. She made her way to my end of the bar. This is a new face. A much nicer looking one than the brute normally working here.

“You gonna tell me what you want or stare at me like I got somethin in my teeth?”

She’s spicy.

“Pour me whatever THOSE guys had”. I point towards the wooden swinging doors at the slumbering men in the back. I can see her struggle to stop the grin from taking over her once furrowed brow. “You ain’t got enough shillings for that, pirate”. She grabbed a wooden stein from beneath the bar. She fills it with beer from the tap and slams it onto the bar in front of me, drawing attention from sailors at the tables to my right. How did she know I was a pirate? One of the sailors approach me from behind, gripping my shoulders tight. “There a problem over here, doll?” He squeezes my shoulders tighter. “No thank you hun, now go sit down and behave yourself”. He loosens his grip, grabs the beer from my hand, and walks slowly back to the tables. He turns and mutters “Put it on his tab” and plants himself back in his chair like a barnacle on the hull.

I cast my gaze back towards the bartender. She’s got one arm on her hip and the other against the edge of the bar. She’s no longer fighting the grin as she chuckles a little and turns to walk back into the shadows of the dirty bar. “I guess that’s a no on the beer?”, I muttered in her direction. It catches her attention, she whips her head around, takes a few fast and heavy steps in my direction. She grabs a cloth and slams it on the bar right in front of me, wiping away the grime left from years worth of spilled beer.

“You’re a brave pirate comin into a bar like this.”

“You’re a brave bartender to stand her talking to someone you assume to be a pirate.”

Her grin returns. She tosses the wet rag into a bucket of water just to her left.

“I see your kind around here every now and again. I ain’t got to assume.”

I straighten up my jacket a little, now self conscious of what gave me away.

A stein flies past my head and smashes against the wall.

I don’t stick around for anymore drunken talks with sailors.

I make my way out of the pub the same way I entered and no hangover to show for it. I walk down the alleyway, hands in my now-empty pockets. No ship, no shillings, no grog.

I make my way towards the only place I’ve called home. The sea. Though, alleyways have been my home a few weeks now. The smell of wet straw and wood smoke overwhelm my senses. Not a smell I’m used to. It’s quite repulsive, as I prefer the smell of saltwater and rum. The moon lights the way, as it did when I was at sea. I hear the ocean lapping against the hull of ships docked nearby.

I stand at the end of the pier, staring into the endless waters of the place that once rocked me to sleep every night. Much like a mother, her waves sing lullabies that lull even the hardest of pirates into a deep sleep. I take in a deep breath.

“PIRATE!”, I hear a familiar whispering voice.

Down Low tugged twice on his door to make sure it had latched. Then he pulled on it a third time. Nothing wrong with being extra cautious, especially in this neighborhood.

He stood at the top of the staircase down to the street. Fifteen steps. He could do it. He’d gone down every step every day for the past two months, three weeks, and six days. But it never got any easier on his leg.

Lowell — Down Low to his neighbors since he never appeared to have two nickels to rub together after his rent had been paid every month — felt at the brace on his leg. Still there, just like every time he checked. Maybe one day he’d reach down and there wouldn’t be one, and so he wouldn’t have to deal with the cold sweats and trembling hands that came with standing at the top of the stairs.

Today, though, he had found two quarters laying side by side in a ditch on his way home from work. To Lowell, that was a sign. A sign that things would turn out okay. Eventually. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, or even the next day. But eventually. People destined for eternal bad luck don’t find two shiny quarters laying next to each other. No sir, no sir.

Two quarters meant that it was HIS turn to pick the song at the jukebox. It was HIS turn to be the man with the plan. It was HIS turn to be in control for the one-hundred and sixty-one seconds that it took Tom Fogarty to croon out “Up Around the Bend.”

One Step. Two steps. Three st—

Down Low’s knee buckled, the rest of his two-hundred and fifty pound frame collapsing with nothing to support it. And suddenly it wasn’t just one step at a time — it was all of them all at once.

His head struck the pavement at the bottom of the staircase at such an angle that he didn’t feel any pain as his neck snapped and his spinal cord ripped apart like hot spaghetti under the faucet.

His hand in his pocket was wrapped around those two quarters. When Lowell went up the steps earlier that evening, he was Down Low.

But here at the bottom of the stairs, dead as a door nail and with a great big grin on his face, he was someone else entirely.

He was Up High.

Denis places his last ten pence in the hungry slot. The claw aching to grab him a prize, him hungry to have not wasted his money. He takes a breath. Toggles the lever and hovers it above a small pink teddy bear. The claw plummets towards the teddy’s neck. It grabs and holds as it floats towards the prize door. The teddy slides out and Denis grabs it holding it in the air screaming with joy. A small girl tugs at his jacket, he turns and smiles at her.

“I wanted that one” she looks up at him with sad eyes as her father rushes over. “I’m so sorry, Lacie he won that teddy fair and square.” Lacie looks to the man with a final attempt at pleading. “But it was the last one, I was gonna call him Rhubarb and he was going to be friends with my yellow bear called Custard.” Denis smiles at her and offers her the bear. “Who am I to split up Rhubarb and Custard” Lacie’s Dad Tony smiles at Denis as Lacie runs off to show her friends.

“Thank you for doing that” Tony smiles. “Do you want a drink?” Denis pulls out the cloth from the inside of his pockets “that was my last ten pence” Tony laughs “it’s on me silly” Denis blushes as Tony winks at him. And the pair head over to the bar shoulder to shoulder.

I leave the house The night is still Quiet as the mouse On the windowsill The stone cold wind Gives me chills As I creep out Of the house With the change In my purse The creepy night Feels like a curse The screech of the owl Creatures complain Coyotes howl Vulnerable prey October night Still and scary Stars the main light The street lights blink And I don't think It's safe out here...