My Homeless Visitor

Sometimes when we help someone we take in deep consideration thinking “It’s a good thing to help someone out because maybe down the road we too may also need that help one day.”

Fine and well, I believe in the concept of doing good for those in need. However, sometimes doing good for someone may not be so idealistic especially helping someone whose whole intention of being helped can come back to you like a curve ball spinning out of control. Inviting a homeless man, I experienced being nice may not be such a good idea. Read my story.

What took place happened a little over six years ago. Nothing spotaneous on my part I was looking for a room mate at that time. I needed someone to watch my cats, and my apartment while I was away on travel. Conventions were real big then as they are now, I wanted to write in the field of horror; so I thought conventions would be a good venture to take up. See the world in a whole instead of what's on television.

Besides that I just lost a loved one who believed in me more than I could ever believe in myself and I promise that person that I would make them proud as a writer; that they would be remembered through my work. However during that emotional rollercoaster I had no idea for a book. It's difficult to put something together without a subject. A book must have an idea, a platform to base your thoughts into, and I was without anything to base my ideas.

So with that, the idea of travel was heavy on my mind; the urge to find a roommate thickly hung in my conscious aware of the time of certain conventions I needed to act quickly due to time.

In a matter of days it didn't take long to finding this roommate. We happened to work together at a warehouse. Describing this individual will not be hard although I cannot disclose names or features. All I can say is that he was not what I pictured in anything that would match my description of his character. What lived with me for six months.

The way I class him would be, in my opinion, a nerd. Someone who was not quite with the crowd so to speak. A very aloof, timid, strongly to himself individual. His appearance told on himself: the nerd that is. He wore the thick glasses, the water pants that come up to the ankles,the awkward shoes (size fifteen), the kept neat hairdo, nothing out of place, not even his clothing. Everything was nice and neat. I took him to be the 'no harm' type of person. What could he do to me? There I thought he'd make the ideal roommate. No one to throw a party while I'm away or sleep in my bed or try to take over the place with his things. Another thing about this lonely guy nobody seems to want to talk to was that he was homeless. He had no place to go other than the shelters. And I'm thinking 'Wow, what a great catch?' A guy hungry for a home...?

It came to a frightening reality letting this ‘homeless man’ stay in my home. ‘I’m thinking why not’ and soon after those why not’s my plans of travel soon fizzled. I visited not one convention nor did I contact anyone who could help me in my endeavors of writing which I wanted to do so badly.

I invited hell to my home.

Without a book, a title and a sensibility of hope, what else was I to do?Courageously things soon changed after six months; I couldn't take anymore from this traveler. Yes, a traveler, he went from state to state, to different shelters, living there for a while and pick up to go somewhere else—a drifter of sorts.

The things I mostly remember about this one eye transient was that he was legally blind, he couldn’t see what was before him and yet, his stories curtailed told to me by him that he walked down long roads, winding highways in the dark, looking for a place to stay but couldn't find anything. I couldn't believe it. He took off his glasses like taking off a mask. He had two eyes but one bulged out farther than the one with the cataract, due to overuse of the one sick eye. It was impossible for him to see anything near or far and the stories he told me set my back hair standing on end. The roads that he spoke of. Nothing where it could light his path, but just dark and dreary roads of passage.

Traveling myself, riding on Greyhound buses, I too have seen roads like that, and to my knowledge they do exist. Roads that seem endless of night. Not even a twinkle of a star glittered the sky. No sign or post to which way. I’m thinking how in the world did he do that?

The most chilling part about this ladies and gentlemen, he didn't even believe in God. This is what he huffed to me so proudly. I'm thinking who helped you? Who helped you through those lonely roads, those lonely walks in the night along the highways? Who guided your hand, your feet, so you will not stumble ? No belief in a Higher Power someone had to help him. A mermidon of evil perhaps?

Can you tell me?


To be continued…