Discoveries...or Remembrances?

He was staring at her, gaze direct and unflinching, from the edge of the grassy patch just outside the breakfast area. Linda could feel his dark big eyes boring into her face, eating it up as if that would give him some solace in his desolate state.


The irony of the situation had been tugging at Linda ever since she had sat down to have her eggs and bacon a good half-hour ago. Here she was, quite fortunate, able to afford this wonderful little budget resort, get away from the hustle and bustle of city life, and enjoy a good whole week in the middle of no where. It was just what she needed, and just what she could afford. And then there was he, standing just some distance away, kneading the grass with his brown toes and waiting for someone to pass by, maybe give him a pat on the head, and walk on, oblivious or purposefully ignorant to his hunger, his helplessness.


It was claustrophobic, really, Linda realised. Knowing how much she had, though perhaps back in New York this would not have counted as much at all…in contrast to the poor brown beggar, who literally had nothing but the rags she had seen him wear for three days straight now – he probably never took those off. The thought made her shudder inwardly, but she suppressed her outer reaction, and looked up at the boy with a calm face. As soon as she nodded, the little boy scampered to her table and stood there, brimming with excitement as she counted a few gold coins into his hand, giving much more than she normally would – much more than he would have expected – before he scampered off again God knows where, probably to count the treasure, share it with his poor family…if he had one.


Linda sighed. It was not a sigh of annoyance or frustration…well, yes – frustration with reality. It was a sigh of helplessness more than anything. Perhaps the very root of frustration? Linda’s mind whirled as she struggled to settle her calamitous thoughts.


The little brown boy’s face phased in and out before her eyes, replaced now and again by Sylvia’s, then by Susannah’s, oh no…Susannah…


And suddenly thoughts of him were pouring back into Linda’s carefully blocked out memories, channelling the full force of their daggers at her body. She hurt all over, wanting to curl up in a little, insignificant ball. Why had she come here, after so many years, when she knew how close it was to…to the place…? That place.


The last remaining piece of fried egg Linda had been holding to her mouth never made it up the whole way, but came down with a rattling accompaniment of its metallic holder onto the breakfast plate before her. The last the confused waiters and waitresses at the breakfast bar saw of the young slim woman suddenly running for the bungalows at the far end of the green outside the main hostel building, was the fair hair streaming in the wake of her rush. The tears streaking down her pretty tanned face as she raced blindly for a place of solace among this suddenly so tremendously foreign land remained unseen, uncared for.


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You are becoming a masterful story teller Anna. The visual of her flight from the cafe was so well crafted that I could see every strand of hair flying behind Linda. She clearly is tormented by him. This puzzled me as I found myself trying to figure out who him was. Not the beggar boy, we know that. And I don't recall any mention of him in the earlier chapter. Might be an idea to give us just a bit more when you go back through this so we get a sense (we don't need to know everything - just enough to keep us from getting frustrated with trying to figure out who and where he fits in. He is clearly an important figure. We need just a bit more about him to keep us interested.