Taking Out the Trash

Late night craving can be a bitch, Jordan Freelander thought. Not only do they spoil a fun night out but I gotta find food. And at this late, it’s gonna be rough. It was then that Jordan spotted the old, tattered bag woman pushing a red cart full of what seemed of trash. The best part of it for him all was that she was alone, and headed straight for him.

The old lady drew near, stopping by each trash can to find something of value Jordan stepped out towards her. Her movements seemed almost ritualized in the pale glow of the night.

“Hey, lady, isn’t it time you went home. Ya know this area of town isn’t all that keen towards folk like you.”

Slowly the woman turned around to face him. Jordan could see that her face was young and wrinkled and her teeth appeared nonexistent in the moonlit sky. Her hair was long and tangled, almost in the fashion of punks he hung around with.

“I know young man, but ever since my husband died and I lost my social security pension, these streets are my home. To make my living I have had to resort to digging around in the bins to find what I like to call Old Forgottens’. ‘Cuz these are treasures, not worth anything to anyone else but have lots of value to me.”

It was this last line that caught Jordan by surprise. All his waking life he felt like the old woman’s “old Forgottens,” discarded by people, left to fend for himself. Only after his reawakening did he feel he fit in with the crowd.

“Don’t you have any family to go to? Savings accounts to draw money from. Anything?” He questioned, his cold stone heart going out to the woman.

“No, ” she began, sitting down on the dirty sidewalk. “That was all spent trying to keep my husband and myself out of debt, and when he died the rest went to paying off the funeral expenses. Now its just me and ol’ Nellie here, my trusty collection wagon.”

When she talked, Jordan saw the lifetime of experience and hardship pouring from her fawn colored eyes. She has had a hard life, he thought feeling something that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Sadness. Sadness for all the people that were left behind by the great United States of fucking America. Sadness, for all the people like her, having to defend their livelihood against creeps like him. People wanting something from them.

“Ma’am, ” he began, “isn’t there something I could do to help you out?”

She glared at him wondering if she could take his offer seriously or not. Then she arose, shaking off all the dirt from her tattered dress.

“Child,”she said,” there ain’t nothing you could do to help me. I am too old and too tired to continue on like this. It’s enough to wonder if the good lord has forsaken me and refuses to end the suffering that I’ve had to live with for the past few years. But unless you can put in a good word to the Lord to help me out then I guess there’s nothing you can really do to help me.”

Standing up, Jordan grinned a grin so fiendishly that the hair (or what was left of it) on the arms of the bag woman stood on end.

“Lady,” he called, “this is your lucky day. For I am an angel of your God and he has asked me to take you away from all of this.”

Then as laughter poured out of his mouth, he bared his fangs toward his dumbstruck prey. Then reaching out both of his arms he cradled the old woman in his arms. All forgiveness left his body as he bit down and drained the life from her body. Looking down at her dead corpse once more, he noticed that the woman did not appear scared but relieved that the suffering had ended.

As he turned to make sure that she was comfortable in her final resting area Jordan thought to himself, Just another nameless victim, wanting the escape that only death can provide.