This Old House......

That house, the one on Elm Street that sat wedged between another apartment building and a restaurant bar on a busy street, it roomed maybe 25 tenants, cheap rent, run down, but it was there. Like a rock that withered and aged in grey shadows, never going anywhere, breathing tales of years gone past. This house was situated in a nice area, surrounded by trees, gardens and other big expensive homes, well kept for the most part, except this one. Let me tell you, the tenants that lived here, well, let's just say characters with each very different pasts and stories to tell, secrets? Yes, the house held patrons that kept secrets, lower-class living to say the least, a common hold for addicts and mentally ill - sadly they were there, trying to survive in the jungle, downtown.

Now Charlie, he lived on the ground floor, would go out every day, with his walker, he saw everything, being on his disability he had to go out to get food each day, the local soup kitchen was nearby the house.

"Going out to eat Charlie? Have u got a cigarette?" Joanie asked as she sat in the sunshine of spring on the front weathered steps, the handle broken and never fixed. "I sure could use a cigarette." She sighed, and he gave her one as always. Joanie was born on the street at the shelter for women years before, her mother a prostitute and abandoned her, she had been raised by her adopted family, none too kind for that matter. Joanie too had become a prostitute eventually, not having learned any other way to survive.

"Can u bring me one of those sandwhiches and some cookies?" She begged, her eyes dark and saddened by a life of pain, lonliness so deep it etched into her soup and stayed like dried ink on old newsprint.

"I will try, if I can." Charlie rubbed his unshaven beard and stretched up his sore back, leaning on his walker. He was glad to get out walking a little bit though, happy to get out and away from the house. He loved his little room enough, it had what he needed, a hot plate, a fridge, a bed and his tv. He couldnt complain, he was off the streets.

"Hello Charlie, how's it going today?" Jackie the soup kitchen manager asked him as he gave Charlie his meal on a tray. Today was hamburgers, potatoes, salad, a roll, and brownies for dessert, it was good food for old Charlie. "As good as can be - nice to see warm weather finally." Charlie replied as he placed the tray of food on his walker bench in front. He ate his meal, not looking at anyone, he didnt want to get involved with too many people here, they were downtrodden, poor as church mice, dead frozen expressionless faces all the same looking, Charlie didnt like looking at them. He ate his meal, asked if there were any sandwhiches and cookies left, and took his little bag of food back to the house.

"Hi Charlie, nice day today." Sam the dog walker waved to him as he left the soup kitchen entrance, today Sam had three dogs, two big ones and one little one. Charlie wished he had a dog, there was a lady named Kathy who brought her little white dog over to the house to visit Steven sometimes. The little dog Roxy would bark and wag his tail happily, not a care in the world, he always made Charlie smile. Someday he would get a little dog too.

So, Charlie made it back to the house, Joanie wasnt there, he put the food he got for her in his little fridge and lay down to sleep for awhile. BANG BANG BANG, a loud knock at the door, "Open up, it's the police." Charlie got up and opened his door to see what they wanted.

"Have u seen this man before?" A young good looking cop showed him a picture of someone, red haired with a beard. Charlie shook his head, "No sir, I...I have not."

"Ok, if you see him you let us know, we are looking for him, he's got a warrant for his arrest." The other, scruffier older looking officer said, looking down at Charlie. "Yes, sir i will, but I have never seen him." Charlie assured them both. "We were told he hangs out in this house, he's not a good person, lock your door and stay away from him." The young one said putting the photo away.

Charlie went to bed that night, listening to the sounds outside, cars honking their horns, dogs barking in the distance, people talking, laughing from the bar on the corner. How he hated this place sometimes, wishing he were wealthy so he could move into a nice fancy apartment with nice people. He dreamed about his fantasy often, and then he would wake up, wash, get dressed, and go back to the soup kitchen for his morning meal. He was okay here, he decided, as he ate his eggs, toast, fruit and drank his coffee down at the table he sat, alone, he couldnt complain about the food he got, that he couldnt even afford if he wanted to on his low income. Charlie had family, at that house, the old house that sat wedged between the bar and the other building, the one with the weathered steps and broken handle. Charlie had a home, and the city was his to live in too.

Steven came in the next day, tired from working, he did odd jobs and had a painting contract, now Steven he was another tale in that house, he had the room in front, which was always in a shambles. "How come you never clean this place up"? Joanie gave him lip, she would sit there having his beers - and looking around at the mess and disorder there. "I do clean it up, it just gets messy again five minutes later." He would always tell her the same answer. Those two bickered on to no end, Charlie could hear them constantly, until he would tell them to pipe down so he could sleep. "Cant you two let an old man sleep around here?" He shouted at the doorway, and the cat that ran out between his legs. Charlie hated that cat.

"Charlie, it's 8 pm, what do u want us to do, drink tea?" Steven laughed at him, but kindly, they all made sure old Charlie was okay. Steven stood up tall, towering over everyone, rubbed the back of his head and looked down at him. He cared about Charlie, Steven had a kind giving heart, and shared whatever he could with everyone, that was his downfall. Never was there not someone looking for Steven for one reason or another, that's just the way it was at that house, and upstairs Joanie sat in her room, moaning and mumbling about nonsense noone could understand, that's what she did. Oh, if walls could talk!!!! This old house was ancient, dating back to the early 1900s, and housed the upper class and then two families and finally turned into a rooming house for the poor and underprivileged, few left of its kind in this town. It had its charm, it was just too bad the owner didnt care about it, not much profit in rooming housing. So, the house always stayed the same, it sat there, taking in tenants from the streets, with their stories and their tales, secrets and pasts unknown and staying that way. It was a home harboring to many, it was still there.