Birthright: A Phoenix is Born

Helping Hands

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Pedestrians pushed past each other in a desperate search for cover. A dense haze wrapped my own. To walk became an Olympic ordeal. To breathe an unnecessary, burdensome, choice. Forgotten memories of us reeled on my corneas. Unspoken truths and triumphants, terrible losses and regrets.

I fought to escape each one, a battle worsened by the bitter weather. My fingers morphed into a worrisome shade of butter yellow while they tried in vain to prop up my windbreaker hood. Skin broke out in rigid goosebumps that pierced through my drenched cotton bottoms.

Pungent aromas swirled round as people continued to shove. Everyone hoping for a reprieve from the sky's outcry. However, it was the noise that got me. The blaring siren, the screaming baby, the angry customer and the overzealous kid each took their turn reducing me to a limp punching bag. When Dublin's silver mast started to bend, it signalled a clean K.O.

The search switched to a place to lie down before the numbness ate at everything and my skull laid open on the pavement side. It didn't take long to find a suitable spot. A short stretch of cardboard propped up against a towering dull white column of the General Post Office. I was out upon contact.

Night

A gentle nudge came first. Coaxing, as it waxed in strength. My eyes fluttered open to watch an abrasive force clamp down my collar bone. I wheezed, adrenaline racing through my limbs as the terror of my current position caught up with me.

A husky man pinned himself on top. This close, his face was the only thing visible. Vile gums botched with disease-ridden greens, gaps for his missing teeth were littered across. A wild warped cloud-beard added to his menace. Where the mane didn't mark, putrid flakes skin fell off. Yet the murky concoction between mud brown and sludge green in eyes deadened my ability to move. The black dot in the middle solely focused on me.

"Listen up little man." His voice harsh and raspy even when whispered.

"Because I am only going to say this once. Give me all the money you have, or I'll take something you're better off keeping." The sudden edge of his demand rocked my core. However, the sharp edge pinching my thigh blasted it open.

"I don't have any money." I squeaked. "Someone help. Please."

My plea fell on deaf ears. No. A deaf person would have still noticed my situation. To those walking past, I didn't exist. On Ireland's busiest street I watched as person after person strolled by without a glance. Unable or unwilling to see what was occurring. A one-way plane positioned between us.

"You're lying" Yelled my assailant. "Everyone always does. If you have no money what's this I feel in your pocket." He leered the remaining lemon-yellow teeth in my direction forcing me to wrench my nose away. Then jabbed my right thigh with his makeshift knife. I expected pain but all that was heard was a metallic 'Clunk'.

"See." Satisfaction lit across his face like a child. "Money. Give me. Now." The clogs in my brain spiralled into overdrive, attempting to understand. That was until someone shouted from behind.

"Hey."

The homeless guy whipped around. Muttering nonsense like "This was his moment." Instinct took over as I dug my elbow deep into his adam's apple and kicked the spasming body off. The man tumbled to the ground clutching his throat tightly. Kicking and screaming toddler tantrum in full swing. Brushing away the dust flakes, I stood up to receive a full view of my helper.

"You good?" He asked, outstretching both palms.

Large swaths of his grey trench coat were soiled brown. New fields of stubble took root across his cheek and chin. While purple bags bunkered under his sunken eyes. The usual precision in his hair cut was gone, replaced by an unkempt bird's nest. Yet it was unmistakably him. Almond toned skin and hand gestures a dead giveaway.

"Kumar?" I wheezed.

"Damian." He clenched.

Even now his voice fluctuated up and down, stressing random words at a time. Yet the roll of his Rs were still stark, cascading clearly under this starless night.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Zink of a way out of this first." He spat, pointing at the risen attacker.

"Because right now we have trouble."

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Author's Note

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*The Spire = Tall Monument on O'Connell Street, the only way some people know their way around town.