The septuagenarian

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(Edited)


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The septuagenarian slowly boards the passenger minibus. He is wearing bright red pants, a navy blue shirt and an extravagant, oversized red bow that doubles as a tie.

He smiles at the passengers, standing at the end of the aisle, next to the driver, as the bus moves forward.

He raises his voice to address those present, but his tone is barely audible in the back seats of the small unit, so the driver turns off the player that at high volume was tormenting them, which produces an automatic attention to the old man, who among other things says he is a retired clown, lonely at the loss of his loved ones, a poet of inspiration and who is there to offer verses to each of those present, hoping to be rewarded by them.

From one of the seats close to where he is, a child with candor in his eyes gives him a coin and the old man, as if making a retrospective to his past surrounded by the little innocents, caresses his head and declaims a verse, leaving buoyant from the challenge imposed on the memory.

For minutes each one receives the rhythmic improvised verses that come from the soul of the old man, who in some cases entertains the profession of those who wear working clothes and in others the beauty of the ladies or the elegance of the gentlemen, without leaving aside the greatness of God or the stories invented for the little ones.

At the end he receives some applause and a few monetary contributions and thanking everyone, even those who gave him nothing, he takes advantage of a bus stop to get off to wait for a new one in which perhaps he will have better luck.

It is hard to wait for the end of the days wandering among strange faces, most of whom do not understand the jokes of fate, but would rather use their talent than beg a piece of bread or beg some businessman for a mediocre job.



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5 comments
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I can't imagine a reader who is unaffected by your story. The character is a retired clown, but is still performing in order to survive. Well told, and memorable.

You do have a line in Spanish. Is this intentional?

Sonríe a los pasajeros, de pie al final del pasillo, junto al conductor, mientras el autobús avanza.

Thank you for posting the story in the Ink Well community. And thank you for commenting on the work of other writers. This helps our community thrive, and also makes you eligible to be chosen for a spotlight in our weekly highlights magazine.

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It is not intentional, it was a mistake that I have already corrected. Thank you

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This is absolutely lovely, @joseph1956. Yesterday I was out shopping and as I walked through a parking lot, I heard the amplified sounds of music. At first, I thought it was piped music from the building. Instead, I saw that it was a street musician with an electronic accordion, standing in a tiny amount of shade under a tree at the end of one of the many aisles of cars. He was playing many popular, recognizable songs, and was a very talented musician. It was quite beautiful, and seemed to be the perfect complement to the beautiful and hot summer day.

I walked past him into the store that was my destination. But when I finished my small errand, I fished out a $5 from my wallet (amazed that I had it, because who carries cash these days?) and dropped it into his basket. He was Hispanic, with very dark skin and a beautiful smile. He had a large sign saying that he needs money for food for his children. I worried that he would be the object of insults and prejudice. Or even the police. But in my few moments in his presence, I only saw others who donated to his basket, and a police van that drove past him without seeming to take notice.

And I found myself wishing for a world in which every individual is honored for their talents, every summer afternoon there is music filling the air with its sweet sound, and every child has enough food.

But back to your story. Thank you for posting this and sharing the microcosm of the aging clown's life. I only wish you had shared one of his verses. :-)

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There are many complex, relegated urban cases that we often judge by their cover. I'd dare to say some of them really are what they seem like. It's good to contribute somehow to them. In your case, you do it by writing.

Thanks for sharing!

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