My inspiration for my creative writing description of a homeless person was a thin branch from a tree.
On the Streets
I was stick thin, barely any fat on my twig-like arms. I must have been there some time, on the streets, homeless, but I had no way of keeping track of time anymore. My short stubbly beard has now grown so long that it covers my neck like a scarf, which is good in the cold winter months because I can’t actually afford a scarf.
Before it got dark I had used my ‘walking stick’ (basically a branch I had carved into one) to collect some twigs for firewood each night. I would make a little fire and keep adding twigs to keep me warm-ish through the freezing midnight hours. And no, I’m not old, but I do have a walking stick because when I became homeless I sold the majority of the things I owned, including my shoes, for money to buy food for at least one meal a day. Even that didn’t last very long.
Being homeless you have to fend for yourself and get or make anything out of nothing. I wouldn’t really call it a bed, but where I sleep is just a sleeping bag that someone kindly donated me a while ago and a large hard rock which you could call a pillow, even though it’s rather uncomfortable.
By Shannon Dalligan