The Old Man Walking

873 Words Feb 23rd, 2018 3 Pages
Taking a sharp left turn, I headed down an alleyway, which looked very dark and ominous. A mist was slowly coming up from the ground, it had a orangish tint from the reflection of the lone, dim gleaming light, it looked as if were about to burn out. The only sounds of the evening were from a stray cat who dawdled near a dumpster looking for leftovers. The air was very bitter it pierced my body like a thousand nettles all at once.

Somewhere in the darkness we sensed movement. As I moved closer, nervousness and fear set in. One of the first things I noticed about him was his clothing. The old red and blue checkered shirt that this old man was wearing looked as if there would be no point in wearing this shirt at all. His tattered old grey slacks, were too short for his long legs, which exposed parts of his frostbitten legs. Paper bags, tied around his feet were used as shoes. The one thing that kept his face warm was a lengthy, broad, white beard that looked as though it had been growing for many years. The small amount of hair that he had was grey and blew in the breeze causing parts of it to go every which way. Judging by this, and and his wrinkled skin, it looked as though he was in his 70’s.

He sat on a filthy cardboard box on the ground, pulling his knees up close to his body trying to keep himself warm. His eyes were dark and sunken, and his gaze never left a large pile…

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