Unnoticed

Sometimes places can engulf us. Making it seem we are not alone, that there are others out in the world, which also are fixed in a place, a time, where they may not be counted in a specific group or a member of…

Have you walked down a crowded street, so crowded that you know that if a family member come to look for you, it would be very difficult fishing you out among the crowd. People circling you, walking this way and that way, zooming by you—some curses you as if you were on wheels—to get out of the way. And they, trying their best to get to their own destinations, have no time to fool with you; so can you imagine your family perspective fishing you out would be an impossible feat, right? But what if you had no family or no friend, that isn’t looking for you? You are in this crowd, by yourself, you probably can stand on a corner and no one would lift an eyelid your way.

To be unnoticed can be a hurtful thing, especially if you have something to say, you can feel it in your chest, your bones. You just want to let it out of your system—there’s something that concerns you but no one stops to listen or even lift an eyelid to see you standing on that lone corner of a sidewalk being passed-by unnoticed.

There are millions and millions of people who like this, are unnoticed. You could be walking down a street and you see a guy lying down on a cold ground, in filthy clothing, disheveled hair, and worn out shoes, asleep; the only thing supporting him is yesterday’s newspaper. The only thing descent for him to lie upon between the ground and himself to try to keep what little left ‘clean’—‘I guess he never lost respect of, let us see who is in today’s obituary—could be a playing thought for him. He probably had a life just like the rest of the people in the crowd. The working class, who storm down busy sidewalks just to get to their 9 to 5’s, this homeless man, can say ‘I once had that.’ Of course he did but somehow something happened along the way changed things. Leeching, drawing this man to a world he now knows as the streets. And here he lay sleeping away where once help was a skip away and now is forever gone, just like his years. And people now pass him unnoticed. However this is one example. What if there were families going on in life unnoticed. Children suffering the fate as this poor man. There are many. I have written a story called “Unnoticed.” I hope you enjoy it.



Title: Unnoticed by Lavel Wideman


A mother swiftly walks, carrying heavy bags of food, carefully propping them in her boney arms, making sure they don’t fall to the wayside, as her children toddle behind her—hand in hand—they follow eagerly anticipating the goodies that awaits them once they reach home. Only enough food to last a few days—no more, no less, will probably last with effort.

They live in the projects, ‘the concrete jungle’ as some would say. They live in the projects—apartment 38-B to be exact. In a big city, with big people who happens to have little bitty hearts. Doors shut from anyone from begging.

Their apartment is not so big, not too small either, with few furniture humbly displayed throughout the small one bedroom unit. With long curtains draping the window, as plastic seals the cracks from cold air from seeping in, while they cannot look out for the sake of being unnoticed.

A faucet drips constantly echoing through the hallway; mother tried to get the super to fix the problem, where only cold water comes through, as hot water comes in sparingly. No one answers her call and so they must bathe unnoticed.

Time is spent. Dust gathers in crooks and corners of empty cupboards with cans tucked in the back, all arranged in order. Spiders make webs, spinning their homes, laying eggs, feeding off the flies that swoon in the air, sticking to tapes made to trap them.

Breakfast was little, so was lunch, and dinner. Welfare says they must cut back and no one can split the bill, and so the family must tighten their belts as their stomachs growl of rage, inch by inch. There’s nothing to fill them for the groceries are all gone and now the cupboards bare. Tears fall and mouths sag, they fall unnoticed.

Flies increase. There maggots have found themselves away from the room, where the taint of miasma, the smell of something putrid fills the air, they build. And now the water bugs have found themselves up from the drains, where water drips constantly, they are visible in corners of floors.

Today someone knocks at the door, it’s the super, he finally came. The door squeaks open and a smell of death protrudes, making someone very sick with fear, he moves to search for the little family: mother, son, daughter. His heart beats quickly for in the little corner of their bedroom, this small family, he sees little Son is cuddled underneath one arm, and little Daughter under the other as Mother sits in the middle, all bowed, as in prayer, quietly still. You see, they have died; it’s been weeks, no one cared for they died unnoticed.