What Little Remains
year 11, St Kevin’s College
SNOW fell softly through the smoggy skies of Victorian London.
Far below, in the shadow of night, an elderly man with a crooked posture and empty stomach searched for a meal.
The moon was hidden and his figure was barely visible in the dim light of the lamp posts overhead.
Beneath his threadbare coat and torn shirt, a wireframe body moved creakily underneath.
He moved in small steps, occasionally stumbling under the pressure of fatigue.
His eyes were planted on the ground in front of him in an attempt not to make eye contact with the intimidating factory buildings above.
To him, they were concrete giants blowing smoke from their chimney cigars.
He stumbled over to a rubbish bin, only to find it devoid of food.
His bushy eyebrows furrowed in disappointment. This was his regular expression.
Indifferently, he abandoned that bin in search of another.
Some nights he would repeat this futile exercise for hours on end without success.
He would search the wealthier neighbourhoods if it weren’t for the children who made sport of throwing rocks at him, or the disdainful faces looking down their noses.
In one gnarled fist, he clasped a faded photograph in iron grip.
The photo showed a young couple cradling a newborn baby.
A tender smile played across their faces as the child slept peacefully in their arms.
The man’s face was cleanshaven and his eyes looked bright with joy — something that had since changed.
The withered man unclenched his hand and unfolded the photo.
With one trembling hand he reached slowly towards the photo.
Carefully, as if he truly believed making too much contact with it would turn it to dust, he brushed his fingers over the photo.
He stopped as he reached the child and his hands began to tremble, not because of the cold.
Deep in his eyes memories stirred and fought to surface from beneath the blue of his eyes.
He grimaced and looked away.
Eyes screwed shut, he fought to regain control of his demons.
No use.
He crumpled to the ground.
His body was wracked with shuddering sobs.
Time passed.
He opened his eyes once again and picked himself up off the ground.
With utmost care, he folded the photo back up and tucked it into a pocket over his heart.
Far below the smoggy skies of Victorian London, the elderly man set off once more.