Short Story / Can't Live Without Love (Analysis)
“Come on Daddy, tell us!”
“Yeah, tell us!”
“Alright but first, is everyone’s teeth brushed and ready for bed?” Colleen will never forgive me if I let the kid’s “nightly” routine slide again. Sitting in the children’s room, it always reminds me of Eleanor. The soft baby blue colored walls the same color of her eyes. The smell of the room, soft baby powder sitting on Emily’s changing table, reminded me of the soft white color of her skin. The sound monitor, sending out the whooshing sounds of waves crashing against some distant beach, reminded me of the way she spoke with calm gusts of words slipping through her cracked, dry yet rosy red lips. I was interrupted from my daydream by the shouts of four-year-old Toby and six-year- old Vanessa.
“Yes! Now come on Daddy, tell it! Tell the story about how you got to where you are today all because of that old lady, Eleanor!” I chuckled. Vanessa did well as the oldest, always in control and speaking up for the two younger ones. She also always speaks exactly what’s on her mind, always.
“Alright, alright; I’ll tell it.” Here it was again, my specialty for giving into my sweet children’s faces. How could I say no to their freckled noses and big blue eyes? “Well, you probably all know it better than I do by now, except for you, my dear Emily. I’ll start with an action scene for Toby. The day I ran away from the orphanage was dark and rainy. The clouds rumbled over and the sound of distant thunder rolled closer and closer. I was dressed in clothes, that you would now call rags, caked with mud with tears almost everywhere. My hair was greasy from not having been washed for the past couple weeks. I was running from the far away sirens that were slowly but surely coming closer, searching for me as if I were a lost dog. I took a right turn down a dark ally way. I steadied my run down to a slow walk. I was nervous and a part of me wished that I had never stepped a foot outside the orphanage gates. I had wished that it all were a dream and I would wake up any second. On either side of me were tall buildings that were casting long shadows onto the busy street ahead with cars slowly trucking down the New York City avenues. I felt a sudden shiver of loneliness swirling around me, trapping me into corner. I felt myself backing away into the walls that were coated with graffiti. The ally way came to life yet all the people walking on it looked dead.
An old woman caught my eye. She was sitting in a dark corner in the middle of the sidewalk on the opposing side of the street. She looked as if she were studying me, watching my every move. I shifted, feeling even more uncomfortable then I had before. She was holding a thin, boxed shaped item in her bony hands. She had a long stick figure, laced throughout her fingers. In the dark I could not see far but she seemed to see me perfectly and every time she looked up, she looked at me, then she would look straight down again to scratch the stick onto the boxed shaped item. She must have seen that I was intrigued by her actions because she raised a delicate, skinny arm, slowly, and waved me over.
I felt as if I were in a trance as I walked toward the old woman. When the woman saw my hesitation, she said, ‘don’t be afraid boy, come ‘ere. What is your name?’
I stuttered, ‘C-C-Christopher ma’am.’
She nodded and jotted down some letters that I could not read onto her item that saw was an easel with the stick figure, a pencil. I then saw a drawing on the easel; it was a drawing of me. ‘What do you think?’ The woman stared up at me with small, gentle eyes. I shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t really know what to think. I had never seen anything so beautiful but I couldn’t say that to her because I barely knew the woman. ‘Yeah, not good enough to sell I reckon’,’ she sighed. Surprised that she was planning to sell a picture of me I rethought my answer to her previous question. ‘No don’t throw it away, it’s good. Really good, I like it.’ ‘Really? You do? You ain’t playin’ are you?’ ‘No ma’am, honest, I think it’s really… beautiful.’ The woman raised her kind eyes at me again. ‘Y-y-you think it’s beautiful? No one has ever said anything so kind to me before. Thank you.’ I was so alarmed at her response; I never thought that I could touch someone so deeply. ‘Come on, you must be starving. I’ll make you somethin’ even though I don’t got much.’ I was drooling just by the thought of food. There was a low rumble of thunder; sounding closer than before. The sirens must have been for someone else because they no longer existed in my earshot at least. ‘Here, sit and eat this.’ The woman handed me a bowl of liquid that I did not dare ask of the contents. I devoured the food and handed the woman the bowl. ‘Thank you.’ I muttered.
‘You runnin’ from something or someone boy?’ Her question scared me. I thought that everyone could see I carried sadness on my shoulders by the way I carried myself.
‘Yes ma’am, I’m runnin’ from the police. They out to get me. I don’t wanna go back ma’am, don’t send me back, please.’
‘Hush now darlin’, ain’t nobody gonna send you where you don’t want to go if I got somethin’ to say about it.’ Was I dreaming? Had she really said that? Was a stranger really looking out for me?
‘I’m Eleanor by the way. Where you runnin’ from exactly?’ ‘The Children’s Orphanage; a horrible place, I hate it.’ ‘Don’t blame you. I grew up in one of them orphanage’s. They lonely places with no love to be shared. I had to get out of there. You can’t live without love.’ ‘You were an orphan too?’ I was dumbfounded that I had found a soul who could relate to my problems.
‘Yes sir, I ran away when I was sixteen. Never regretted it. The police didn’t come lookin’ for me. Nobody cared for me then, why should they start now? But anyway, that don’t mean I ain’t loved, oh no. I got my easel and my pencil and my drawing skills. My drawings love me because I give them a home, I love them because they give me life.’ I had never known that non-living things could give you such love. We were interrupted by the sound of loud sirens. Close sirens. Then we saw the flashing lights of police cars. Eleanor got her easel and pencil and put them into her shopping cart full of her only belongings.
‘Get ready to run boy. You one of us now, you gotta learn how to live harshly. They comin’ for us. They comin’ to kick us out of this ally so we can just move to another. They just don’t seem to get it.’ She must have seen the fright in my eyes because at that moment, she pulled me close and hugged me. Surprisingly, I hugged her back and we stayed like that until she pulled away and grabbed my hand and started to run. I turned to look at what we were running from. I saw a group of policemen grabbing some of the other inhabitants of that same ally way. I looked forward again and say that we were headed out of the ally way and into the busy city life. We were almost there when I felt a sudden jerk of my hand. I looked to see what it was and a policeman had grabbed Eleanor and held her with one arm across her neck and the other across her stomach. ‘No! Let her go!’ I screamed and kicked at the policeman who swung at me with a club but I ducked just in time to feel the wind of his blow ruffle my hair. ‘Don’t worry about me; I won’t live much longer anyway. Runaway while you get the chance, find a good family to take care of you, you hear? I’m sorry I can’t come with you. Remember, you can’t live if your not loved. But you can live because I love you. You have what it takes. I know you do. Just use it Christopher.’ I felt the hot tears sting my eyes as they overflowed over my eyelids.
‘I can’t leave you.’
‘You have to baby. Restart your life and make it count! Don’t waste it on running away from things. I love you Christopher.’ I glanced at her for a few moments longer then seeing tears swell up in her eyes I had to look away.
‘I love you too Eleanor.’ I took off running but stopped when I got to the corner of my future and my past, I looked back at my most recent home that was now full of tension and cries for help. The overflowing trashcan that’s contents were spilled out all over the already crowded sidewalk, then I looked at Eleanor. I heard her sobs and seeing her tears roll down her cheeks. The rain started to fall and the thunder crackled above like whips on horses bare backs. I watched for a few moments more. I shouldn’t have, but I did. In those last few moments, I watched my only friend Eleanor, wrapped up in the policeman’s tight grip, gasping for air. The policeman took no notice. I started to run back but stopped when I saw her eyes close and the tears stop. She was gone. I dropped to my knees, crying so violently that I felt I was able to shake the raindrops of my back. Suddenly, I felt a firm grip on my shoulder. I looked up to see a policeman.
‘You the one who escaped from the orphanage aren’t you?’ I scowled at him and bit his hand as hard as I could. He released his grip instantly and howled with pain. I scrambled to get up and I started to sprint away.
‘I’ll get you, you brat.’ I didn’t stop running until I collapsed from exhaustion on a doorstep in a land that was unfamiliar to me but I was too tired to look for a land I did know. The door opened and I felt soft hands picking me up and carry me into the house. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew I was lying on a couch with an old man and old woman looking down at me.
‘Don’t worry sweetie, your safe now.’
‘This is your new home.’ Again I thought I was dreaming but when the old woman poured some cool water over my cracked lips and into my mouth, I knew that I really was loved. The end.”
Again, my sweet little children had fallen asleep to this tale of sorrow, love and happiness. I gave them each a kiss on the forehead and walked to the door, shut the light off and whispered, “You can’t live without being loved.” With that, I closed the door.
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This was a very heartwarming story. It flowed well from beginning to end. It evoked emotion in the reader and made them have apathy for Christopher. His character was well thought out regarding his appearance and mannerisms. The connection the reader makes will keep them reading should this turn into something more. The thing I am curious about is why were these old people so quick to offer assistance and shelter. I can see the first woman and her reason, but the couple who just stated, “This is your home now”, seemed a litttle strange. Also, why was Christopher in the orphanage? What happenned to the sketch of himself? The answers to these might lead to a bigger story than what you have here. Just something to think about. Spell check your work, ex. ally—alley. Watch your spacing. Overall, good story. I hope you get a A.
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