So I, when vanished from man's memory
Deep in some dark and sombre chest I lie,
An empty flagon they have cast aside,
Broken and soiled, the dust upon my pride,
Will be your shroud, beloved pestilence!
The witness of your might and virulence,
Sweet poison mixed by angels; bitter cup
Of life and death my heart has drunken up!
I woke up with a mean kick right on my groins. A paralyzing pain unmercifully traveled down my legs. I was found out. The burly man erected beside me was grinning like a wild hog.
"Get up scum!" he sneered and threw his left leg up in the air in an attempt to kick me again.
I'm not sure how I found the energy to roll aside, but I managed to get up from the corner I had taken shelter the previous night. Obviously, I had slept undisturbed despite the rain and the dirt which seemed to fill the city in every nook and cranny. Having lived on the streets for some time, I knew that sometimes it would be impossible to find a decent place where one could rest for a few hours without getting attacked, molested or sick. When I saw the white stone building further off the downtown area of the city the previous day, I felt an incredible urge to check out the back of the building to see whether there was a backdoor or a coal bin. Luckily, there was a metallic door with double wings below the street level with loose hinges and a huge rusty lock. I went down the few steps which led to the door. The wings of the door were slightly open, almost welcoming me to have a peek inside. I placed my face at the opening and took a look. The room behind the spoiled door seemed deserted and unkempt; nevertheless, it was as close to a palace for me as I could get. The thought of having some sleep and finding the opportunity to dry my clothes was like a ticket to heaven at that moment. It was disconcerting to find that the rusty lock broke after a few attempts, but I was still relieved to find that I would at least be safe for a few hours... or until somebody discovered me. And that kick on the groins definitely told me my time was due.
"I said, get up!"
Until the man repeated what he said earlier, I hadn't realized that I was crouching. As I felt a warm feeling leave my body, a thin streak of yellowish fluid left a tiny pool on the soot covered floor. Then, I began to shake uncontrollably. It was as if every nerve I had had taken a wild dance beyond my will. My hands as always were shaking uncontrollably, as if they had a mind of their own. With a look of disgust, he picked the collar of my battered coat and flung me on the steps. As I hit my chin and mouth on the second stone step, I felt a sickening pain as blood immediately trickled down, finding its way around the cracked surface of the steps and forming a scarlet map with multiple, vein like branches. The man bellowed an obscene curse and turned to replace the broken lock with a new one. I hadn't realized that he had a lock in his hand. As he fumbled with the lock, he didn't seem to care about the fact that he had hurt me pretty badly. He didn't for once turn to me again and seemed totally oblivious to my moaning. Strangely enough, as I tried to pick myself up, he seemed to look at the blood map on the steps from the corner of his eye. But, he made no attempt to either talk to me or drag me to the street level. It was as if he was waiting for me to get a hold of myself and simply leave. That's how people treat vagrants. First they attack or scold, and then don't bother to do anything else.
The trembling having returned to my body, especially my hands, I grabbed the railing and tried to push myself up. Dragging my feet, I half crawled, half walked to the street. The trembling stopped as abruptly as it came. But my hands shook as always. There was an incredible throbbing pain on my whole face. My mind wandered far away. I raised my wobbly hand to touch my lips and...
***
I opened my eyes to darkness... Night and fog had sunk down on the city. I was lying on the pavement like a tattered rag doll. Next to me, there were some scattered coins which some passersby must have left, having mistaken me for a beggar. You see, vagrants and beggars are not the same. Beggars beg even if they are fit to work. Vagrants never beg. Never, ever. It's like an unspoken rule among us. And beggars usually do have a place to stay. However, both kinds belong to the streets in one way or the other: beggars during the day, vagrants both day and night. Vagrants are more like the creatures of the streets. Sometimes all they do is walk, look for shelter and food. Beggars have a distinct purpose, while vagrants don't. Vagrants like to think that they don't need anything from anybody. And some vagrants don't like to talk much. Take me for instance. I really don't like talking, but my mind is full to the rim with poetry. Poetry of all kinds... Things, lines and rhymes of a forgotten past dwell in my mind like the members of a family I've never had. They comfort me when I'm about to freeze from the cold and they feed me when the sides of my stomach feel as if they are about to embrace each other with a fit of hunger.
A few minutes later, it felt good to be lying on the pavement. Maybe this cold ground was the shelter I had desperately tried to find earlier. I could fall into a deep sleep, only if it weren't that cold. Then, I heard somebody speak.
"Elu".
I felt a shiver down my spine. I looked around. There was nobody; not even a stray cat fishing around for scraps of food. Just when I was about to think that I was hearing imaginary voices because of the fall, I heard some other strange word.
"Alka".
It not only cut through the dead of the city, but my soul as well. This time I was shivering from the dreadful impact it left on my body.
I first tried to raise myself on my elbows. Something inside me was telling me the trembling was about to start again. Maybe it was the fear of losing control, maybe the determination in the woman's voice that made me sit on my knees. I don't know. Somehow I had managed to sit up straight. Oh, yes, it was a woman's voice. A smooth, resonant voice had told me two words I had never heard before... What did she mean? What if I was just hearing things? What if I had cracked my skull instead of my chin? Was I so desperately losing it at the age of twenty eight? Was I twenty eight? Was I sure? Was I Caleb Stronghold?
Questions filled my mind with alarming speed, but I was sure of one thing: My name. Yes, I was Caleb. Caleb Stronghold. Ca-leb St-rong-hold... And I had become one proud vagrant many years ago. That was one piece of information I was bound never to forget. That was what I had promised myself one day... Many years ago... A name is a man's pride. What else do I know about myself? Well, I hated the dark and anything that reminded me of it. I despised ravens because of their color and hideous, beady eyes. I hated all kinds of birds. Ironically, these past two years, I had come to think that birds were vagrants too. And my hands shook all the time. There was no cure the doctors had said. It was caused by a deficiency in my immune system. So, I've always through that I was doomed to fail life early on childhood. What gave me strength to stride through the streets of the city was my last name.
"I am Caleb," I murmured to myself. My own voice seemed so weak, so damn weak that it almost irritated me.
"I am Caleb," I said with more intensity. My second try didn't satisfy me at all.
"I am Caleb, I am Caleb... Ca-leb... Cale... b... Ca..."
"Taru".
There it was again. The Voice and Darkness had almost merged. There was no way of identifying one from the other. When one starts hearing unknown and nonsense voices in a sleeping gloomy city, it's definitely not a good sign. Not good at all. I didn't know what the hell to do. I had risen from the sidewalk and was waiting for something to happen. So, I tried to stand as rigidly as I could and see what would happen. So, I waited and waited and waited... I just waited on foot with my cracked chin and numbed feet for hours. Or, it seemed to me as if hours had passed. There wasn't one soul outside. I could hear muffled sounds from the other streets but none from where I was standing. Anyway, I thought I heard the big clock's tolls a couple of times, so I just stood there like an idiot, awaiting the command of an unknown presence. I wasn't even sure there was anybody talking to me for some reason at all. But hey, when you're a vagrant, you do get to see the illusionary side of the city quite often. Though I got pissed at nothing actually happening, I wanted to do something, anything which would prove to me that vagrant or not, I was still a part of the city.