Page 17 - Contrast1962v6n1

This selection received first prize in the short
story division of CONTRAST'S writing contest.

and a little child shall lead them

by harry p. rumberger

A PAIR OF trembling fingers twisted a grayed cigarette from a dirty
breast shirt pocket. It was painfully cold as the lean young
man tried to scratch a fire to the match. The fire burst to life, flick-
ered, then whipped out. The unkempt creature muttered, took two
steps, and spit into a sooty gutter.

Down the street a woman in a black coat crouched in the dark
quiet doorway to "Ken's Show Bar." Her eyes pierced the black haze
and concentrated on the slow stumble of the young man toward her.
She too was cold and lonely. Her hands struggled to feel the heat of
her stomach while her head lowered itself into a shivering neck hid
behind a peaked black collar.

The purple sky overhead was coldly crystal. Stars speckled with
the sharpness of a diamond waved in warm sun, and the whole dome
looked like nothing more than white dandruff flakes on a blue-velvet
evening coat. It is strange that the universe twinkles brightest while
shivering winds whistle through alleys, and creatures huddle in the
niches of burnt-brick buildings to keep warm.

The young man, his gnarled cigarette lit, straggled toward the
curled-up female in black. She watched with a child-like warm smile
in her eyes.

Once the man halted, braced himself backward and started up-
ward in a boyish gleam. His eyes surveyed the purple panorama, his
grizzled head stretching backward further until a chill darted in and
pinched his neck and chest. Grumbling in his throat, he bundled up
sharply, shrugged his shoulders, and pushed forward over the frozen
cement.

From behind a post that allied the entrance to the bar the lady
scrutinized the approaching creature. It was 4 a.m. The night had
not quite gone to sleep, and the day had not yet stirred to shower and
shave.

"Wouldn't have an extra cigarette, would you, mister?"
The young man looked up sharply at the dark form in the door-
way. He shuffled toward her straining his sight.
"Don't have a spare weed, do you mister?"

15