The coin

This is another super cool blog I found the other day, in which you have to write something based on a picture (really cute pictures, btw) and on a suggested prompt they give you. The blog is called Pictures, Poetry & Prose ( http://www.picturespoetryprose.blogspot.com )

This is my writing on a coin:

The morning before the affair I woke up feeling a little dizzy; the night had already gone by the time I went out of the house into the streets, without pausing to have a quick breakfast. I didn't even take my utterly necessary moments to wash my face and my teeth, I just went out into the streets. The weather didn't help much either, for it was, in spite of the weather forecasts, drizzly and a bit gloomy. The discouraging dark clouds at the sky casted dark shadows on the things I saw.


Walking through that menacing atmosphere I saw a tiny fraction of a sunbeam, a small shiny piece of hope in a whole sad world. Under the sunbeam was a tiny coin, dated 1972. I picked it up. It was slightly heavy, they didn't make them like that anymore. I wondered why that unfair God of ours had put that coin in my way. I wondered if it was going to bring one more unhappiness to my life, if it was going to take away the last portions of life I had left. Maybe, though, that coin wasn't going to be relevant, for there are thousands of coins in the world, and not even a tenth of them are crucial for my life.

So I turned around, placing the one penny coin inside of my pocket. After all, it was just one penny, nobody needs one penny.

I kept on walking, with no aim at all, just for the heck of it, as I tripped. I started fumbling some senseless words when I realised what had happened: the beggar of the village, the most despisbale person according to most of my neighbours, was sitting down, roofless under the rain, and had unintentionally made me fall.

He looked at me, with the apology written in his sad eyes. The look of that poor old man scared me; I didn't think he could damage me, I was scared of not being able to help him. Then I remembered about the coin inside of my pocket. I took it out and placed it carefully on his hand, resting on his thigh. His eyes opened widely, cheerful all of a sudden. Instead of the apology and saddness, I could now see hope in his eyes, and a great gratitude, too. Without any word, I walked away, smiling.



The coin, after all, was aimed to make me smile.