Author's Notes

The following piece of writing is called a vignette, which is defined as a short, descriptive literary sketch. The term, "vignette" was first introduced to me in my Humanities class my sophomore year of high school; if it weren't for that introduction, I wouldn't even be writing vignettes.

Since poetry is one of my strengths, my vignettes tend to flow like poems, but they do not follow the poetry format. I usually write vignettes when I need to get an idea out on paper without writing an actual story or expressing it in a poem.

All walks of life roam this place…this desolate place of thirst and starvation. A lonely city where children travel by blistered foot and cloak in filthy rags. I see them everyday, battling it out on the streets, punch for punch, rock for rock. Until the prized crumb of bread is soiled by the boiled blood as it splatters across the cold pavement. It reeks of anger…and pain…the stench an invasive, yet familiar odor to my senses.

They’re so stupid…fighting for their lives with brute strength; they don’t have their wits about them. I’m surely smarter than the lot of them that seem to consider themselves “leaders.” They don’t lead; they only follow suit, doing what every other living thing in this place does to survive. They act like they care for and must protect their packs, but really all they care about are themselves.

Especially you…your hair-brained ideas and stupid plans of attack make me want to puke…though if I did, I’ve no idea what would come up. If it were I down there, in charge, the bread would be more than a crumb and buttered rather than soiled. At this thought, my stomach often rumbles like an active volcano…but I wouldn’t take anything from the likes of you…except maybe this bean. This simple, tiny thing waiting to be crushed at any moment. I think I can take a bean…maybe now that you trust my methods, I can do more than just watch you from my trash can perch. You say I’m just that…a bean…but maybe I’ll soon get my chance to sprout. If you’ll let me.