None So Blind -
05-07-2013, 06:32 PM
This may prove to be the most controversial story I have ever posted here. I promise to do my best to keep within the guidelines, but I may end up offending someone out there anyway. The following story deals with the issues of race relations and racism, bigotry and prejudice. This is a work of fiction--all characters in this story, save for Criss Angel and his family and staff, resembling any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Aliziveta Sarantakos stepped cautiously through the exit into the airport terminal, clutching her canvas bag to her breast like a child clinging to her security blanket. She was a small, frail woman somewhere in the middle of her forties, staring at the new world around her with frightened dark eyes. Her faded, shapeless grey dress was wrinkled from hours of sitting in cramped airplane seats from Greece to Hawai'i to Los Angeles to Las Vegas. In two days, she would be in New York, where she hoped to find her family and stay with them. Once in New York, she would be safe at last.
Aliziveta wandered around the terminal, alone and confused. She missed her Uncle Sergio, the last person alive who had been kind to her. She had cared for him for the last ten years of his life until he died at the incredible age of one hundred years. Even as a semi-invalid, he always seemed to find some joy in life, whether it was his favorite fish dinner, a beautiful sunset, or the laughter of children playing in the street. Now, he was gone, and all her other relatives were either dead or living in America. She had considered entering a convent, but the need for family bonding overruled that option. In desperation, she searched through the old family Bible and found a distant relative living in Long Island, New York, USA, and with the small inheritance from Uncle Sergio's estate, she made the long journey from her homeland to America.
It had been a long, roundabout trip, but it was the best the man at the travel agency could do under the circumstances. All the direct flights had been booked, not to mention too expensive for her. This jumping from city to city wore her out. Hawai'i had been nice, but she had been there only for a few hours and so couldn't go and see the sights. Los Angeles had only been an hour's delay, and she almost missed it because she couldn't read or speak English. Now, here she was in Las Vegas for the next two days, with nowhere to go and very little money to live on. Maybe there was a Greek Orthodox church somewhere...?
Bracing herself for whatever was out there, Aliziveta clutched the canvas bag containing her precious few possessions and ventured outside the terminal. She wished she could read and speak English so she could find her way around. Her only guide was Uncle Sergio's battered Greek-English dictionary that she kept inside the pocket of her shapeless dress. At least the signs inside the airport used symbols instead of words. Outside the terminal, Aliziveta looked around at the alien landscape before her. Nothing but black asphalt, concrete and steel. She wished she could see a tree again, or at least a flower. Sighing deeply, she began to walk away, not knowing where she was going, her clumsy shoes creaking with every sorrowful step.
Holy Mother, guide me, she prayed. Help me survive in America. Help me find my relatives so that I may have a home again.
It was growing dark. Aliziveta could see bright lights in the distance from the terminal. One light in particular seemed to stretch all the way to Heaven itself like a glowing blue-white pole. She had never seen anything like it. Curiosity overcame fear as she made her way toward the light. She had thought, or rather hoped, that she could just follow a straight path to it and she would be there. Instead, she found herself lost in a twisting maze of streets she could not recognize, her senses bombarded with loud noises from the cars passing by, and the flashing glare of neon signs. Scantily clad women and gruff looking men sauntered down the sidewalks, oblivious to the poor woman in the faded blue kerchief and shapeless grey dress clutching a canvas bag to her bosom.
Hours passed. The night deepend. Aliziveta was tired and hungry. She hadn't found anyplace to stay nor anyone to help her. Exhausted, she slumped onto a bus stop bench and began to weep, clinging to her canvas bag as if it was her only friend in the world. She felt so alone in the world, so lost and abandoned. If only she was in New York with her relatives; they'd be sitting around a big table right now, feasting and laughing, talking about this and that, warm and safe and happy. But she couldn't go to New York until two days' hence.
Her stomach growled. If she didn't get any food, she thought, she would not live long enough to catch her flight to New York at all.
Last edited by Veritas; 05-09-2013 at 08:45 PM.