Creative Writing On Homelessness

It's silent. As the darkness wraps around me and I cannot see. I suppose the darkness has chosen me. I feel alone but I know there are others in the van. Men, dressed in black and holding guns seated on both sides of the van. Suddenly, some light flares up across from me, illuminating the face of the man sitting on the furthest left of the van. The disturbance comes from a small device, I recognize it as a cell phone, like the one I used to have. How I missed those days when you can hear another's voice so plain and clear. I keep watch of the man waiting for his next move.

He glances briefly at the screen and flips it open. His voice is deep yet contains something I have not heard since Luke. A combination of power, worry, and kindness.

There were days when I only wanted to hear Luke's voice. Especially in the time before I became pregnant, it would soothe my worries that I would fail at motherhood, at giving Luke the chance of being a father. We'd lie in bed under the faded rose-printed sheets, his arms circling me in like a cocoon, swallowing me whole. He whispers in my ear, assuring me that it was just not our time yet but that our time would come. His voice would ring with the power of his belief in us and me but I could always hear the undertones of worry that I would fail and he never get his wish.

I am jolted out of my revelry by the gruff voice, an ending to his conversation.

"Yeah, we got her."

I was given a small bottle and told to drink the contents. I looked down at the liquid in the bottle that swirled around as the van bumped speedily along the street. Not much could be seen by the dim light available in the blacked-out vehicle, but I could tell it was not going to be pleasant. I was right. The bitter liquid slid down my throat like acid. It coated my stomach with ice and I felt nauseous. My vision began to blur and colorful shapes danced before my eyes. I glance back to the men in suits one last time before everything goes black and the darkness claims me.

I woke up with a startle.

Rubbing my eyes as I slowly set up on the bed. As my vision becomes clearer I see all around me was white. Was this dream? No, I can feel my own hearting under my breasts, as I breathed in the humid air. I felt a sudden and unexpected stab of panic as I tried to remember how I had ended up here, and not in my own room with the Commander and Serena Joy and Nick. I slowly glanced around me, looking at all the white. White walls, white wardrobe, white carpet, white lamp, white lilies sitting in a white vase on the white dresser. A white clock tick-tocks steadily high on the wall and right below it a white door. I get up to explore my new surroundings. It is then I realize that my red habit has been replaced with a white nightgown. It feels unnatural. I haven't worn anything other than red since before my time in the Red Center. I cautiously move to the dresser, my back turned from the door. I search through the drawers. They are empty. Same with the wardrobe. I hear a sudden sharp click from behind and then I hear a delicate female voice "Please return to your bed, Miss." I do so because there is nothing else to do. Who are they? What are they going to doing to do me? As I lay down back on the silky white sheets, a luxury handmaids were never given, I heard a slight sound coming from the door again. Not too long after sleep claims me again. What world would I wake to

next?

When I woke again, it was to delicious scents. What day is it? How long have I been gone? I can feel my sanity slowly being chipped away with every question it goes unanswered. Blinking my eyes open, I once again take in my surroundings. Not much has changed except for the presence of a new desk and chair, which stand out due to their rich mahogany color that contrasts the blinding whiteness of the room. Was someone in here, while I was asleep? A tray sits on top of the desk and I can see steam rise from it, though I cannot from what it rises. Someone was here not too long ago. Curious, I get up to find a plate of roasted chicken, mashed potatoes and asparagus, still hot, on a blue and white china plate. The smell reminds me that I haven't eaten in while. On a separate, smaller plate the farther side of the desk, there is a single iris in a vase. I puzzle over its meaning as I savor the meal, relishing each bite. Finishing, I swear I shall never be hungry again. I turn my attention once more the flower. Reaching over to smell it, I realize it sits over a small card sealed with wax, on which is written in a beautiful script, June. With a sense of wonder at whoever these people are, I break the seal and read the card.

To Miss,

I hoped you enjoyed your meal. No doubt, it has been the most food you have seen in quite some time. In addition, you will find some clothes in the wardrobe and dressed. I hope they are to your liking. I apologize for your rough treatment at the hands of my men but it was necessary to sell the story. I wish to see you in person, and I should guess that you are very confused over your new abode and have many questions. Allow