Hello everyone - This is a sneak peek out of chapter of my second novel.
If you like it check out my first novel: www.amazon.com/The-First-Kipjo…@
Alison Jefferies would be a statistic by tonight. She was already a statistic, being one of the 633,782 people across America that was homeless. She lost her job in the recession of 2008 along with her health benefits. Her unemployment would not be enough to cover the mortgage for her condominium despite selling her car and other possessions leading to foreclosure and her losing her home altogether. With no family in the state of New York she would bounce from friend to friend’s house sleeping on their couch. They would all give her the same story as if reciting from a textbook. She could only stay for a week or two, after that she would either have to have a job to get back on her feet or find another place to stay. With no job prospects and wearing out all of the welcome of people she thought to be her friends, she would spend her first night with what little possessions she had left on a park bench in Central Park.
Almost five blocks away she used to look out into the same area she was sitting. She remembered the day she sat on one of the very same park bench eating lunch, only to get up in disgust as a vagrant sat down next to her. On that same night, she contemplated suicide, but she was a Catholic all be it not a steadfast one. Within four years, she endured four muggings, two of them happening within a shelter, two physical assaults, and one sexual assault; also within a shelter. The hardened life of streets put an additional twenty years on the thirty-two year old’s face and body in less than six years.
Four days ago, Alison found herself caught in the middle of a freezing downpour in the middle of March. Fear of the shelters kept her from seeking warmth and cover. She now sat huddled in the corner of a building on Park Avenue two blocks from her former employment dazed with a sickening cough and heavy wheezing in her chest, all clear signs of full blown pneumonia.
Her eyes watered and snot ran for her nose as she cried out for help, but the difficulty of her breathing kept her voice small among the noise of the concrete jungle. She was now among the ignored. People walked by not even giving her a second glance as if she was a part of the trash on the street, while those that did acknowledge her tossed whatever spare change they had into her plastic cup. Clearly, not the assistance she was looking for.
Each attempt to breath became painful to her. She would not last another cold night. By tomorrow, the police or cleaning crew would walk by and give her corpse a sharp kick ordering her to move. She doubted she would even get a proper burial. Slowly she closed her eyes accepting her fate, and dreamed of better days. She dreamed of finding true love and children, things no longer in her future.
She would not see the world come to a halt around her, watching an angel descend from the heavens.
She donned what appeared to be a skintight red and black two-piece running outfit.
Debris would kick up as vehicles both big and small shook from the powerful near invincible force of propulsion keeping her airborne as she hovered getting closer and closer to the streets of Manhattan. Two feet off, she canceled out the power landing on her cherry toe red bare feet. She walked with purpose and authority ignoring the cameras and video recordings. Now towering over a semi-conscious Alison, she knelt down gently touching her cheek.
“Hey…honey, are you with me?” Sophia ran her hand across her cheek.
The warmth of Sophia’s touch made Alison slowly open her eyes.
Immediately she believed she had passed on, beholding a woman whose eyes glowed a bright warm blue color. However, she could still feel cold, the soreness of her throat from cough, and the difficulty of breathing. She should not feel pain if she had passed on.
“You’ve come to take me…to the light?” Alison asked as tears fell from her eyes.
“No dear,” smiled Sophia.
“You’re not an angel?” inquired Alison.
“I’m a doctor,” responded Sophia, “And from what I can tell, you have a severe case of pneumonia…can you tell me how long you’ve been like this?”
“I…I don’t know” she got out between violent coughs, “Am I…am I…going to die?”
“Not on my watch”, reassured Sophia stroking her hair, “Can you tell me your name?”
“Alison…” she answered her.
She could not remember the last time someone spent more than a minute with her. She knew she smelled putrid with snot and bile running from her nose and mouth, and yet this woman was stroking her thin greasy black hair and dirt-ridden cheeks as if they had been friends for ages.
“Alison…would you like to come home with me…so I can take care of you?” Sophia got straight to the point extending the invitation.
“Till I get better”, asked Alison nodding in and out of consciousness.
“No…for as long as you like,” Sophia answered.
She was conscious enough to hear the words “as long as you like”. She burst into tears hunching forward as the violent cough rang through her again allowing her only to nod her head. Without hesitation, Sophia scooped her up in her arms cradling her like a newborn.
Images of her late father holding her whenever she fell asleep in the back of his station wagon came to her thoughts.
She rested her weary head against her bosom feeling warmth and a powerful heart.
As Sophia walked back to the center of the street ignoring the flabbergasted masses, she whispered into Alison’s ear,
“Hold on tight…the take off is a little bit rough.”
She coiled her powerful legs causing the ground to shake underneath her before leaping into the air leaving a small crater where she stood. Once again, the powerful force that gave her flight erupted from the soles of her feet allowing her to ascend above the skyscrapers into the heavens above Manhattan. She would go slow adjusting to the precious cargo in her arms.
Alison Jefferies looked down, and saw that she was no longer one of the ignored. She was not a statistic. Those that looked up would remember her and this day.