Cindy Tomamichel
29/03/2026
The bells, the bells. They hammer in my head without mercy while people walk past me to go to the church and listen to stories of rebirth.
It’s just a hangover, I tell myself, you’ve had enough of them to know. I sit up, and the bells give way to dizziness, and I turn my head to puke a cascade of old wine and fresh regret.
I wrench my eyes open to the new day, hoping like a fool that it will be better than yesterday. I struggle to my feet, pressing my cheek against the cold metal of the skip bin in the alley I call home. I wipe my nose on my sleeve as an all too familiar wave of self-pity threatens to submerge me in a depth so grim the bottle is barely an escape. I take out my pocketknife and scratch one more mark on the wall. The bright sun makes my eyes water, but I counted the marks I’d made. One for every day on the streets. Today is a day I wished would never come. Today is the one-year anniversary of the loss of my life. I deserved it. I stole from work, I cheated on my wife and knocked up my young secretary. They say troubles come home to roost, and all mine arrived on the same day.
I lost them all at once. Sacked, divorced, and a termination. I sat at the bar a year ago today and wept for a life I did not deserve, a wife who despised me, and a baby that would never be. I caught a glimpse of myself in the pub mirror, stuffed another bottle in my coat pocket, and left.
I should have died that day, but the car swerved, and in a blast of foul words, I fell down the bank and rolled into the grass. That night I watched the stars wheel overhead, their axis as out of kilter as my vision. For weeks, I raged at my misfortune as I saw it. Later, when I truly knew it was my fault, I drank even more to drown out the knowledge of my own nature. I had it all and lost it, and I did not have the luxury of anyone or anything else to blame. A year on, and I was older, no wiser, and smelt like a toilet.
The street is all decorated for Easter. The smell of chocolate drifts out of the shop doors, and stressed people with shopping bags dodge around me. I nod to a few of the homeless begging on the sidewalks. I’ve heard their stories, and they’ve heard mine. I never thought about them before, but I do now.
George does what the voices tell him, Gracie flinches from a life of abuse, and Jim is too young for the things he has had done to him. All you see from the outside is dirt, the smells, and the bags of possessions they drag around. You don’t see the baggage they carry inside. At least I never did. But carrying a heavy load alone will break you, and nothing can paper over the cracks.
The Easter windows are alight with scenes of hope. Bunnies and chicks mostly, and a token nod to Jesus with a prettified crucifix covered in flowers. I stare at the cross, hoping for – hoping for what? I don’t even know anymore. But I’m pretty sure religion does not hold the answers – Jim was raised religious. I move on, head down, avoiding people.
I should have died that day. A year later, and nothing had changed my mind. I balanced on the gutter, looking at the headlights of cars and trucks, some decked out with stuffed toys. They were going fast; they all had places to go.
A tinkle of a bell at my feet. A small rattle, a cheap plastic thing of bright colours, rolled along the gutter. A baby cried, and a woman screamed.
The pram rushed past onto the road, and truck horns blasted, and tyres squealed. I heard all the sounds like a tinny soundtrack as I dived after the pram and swung it back onto the sidewalk.
I didn’t feel the impact, not really. But I am glad for that year on the streets.
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Honourable mention: Cindy Tomamichel
Cindy Tomamichel is a multi-genre writer of action-adventure novels. Escape the everyday with time travel, science fiction and fantasy stories or romance. Discover worlds where the heroines don’t wait to be rescued, and the heroes earn that title the hard way.
Links for Cindy’s work:
Website: https://www.cindytomamichel.com/
Newsletter: https://tinyurl.com/AdventureNews
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CindyTomamichelAuthor/
Amazon Author page: https://amazon.com/author/cindytomamichel
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