(Part 2) Jack in the box

A man. The first Nameless of the year is a man, I see as I hurriedly approach his limp, lifeless body. Covering him with the plastic bag I got from the cottage I can’t help but notice his strong, prominent features, he was young and very, very skinny, more than me or nona. I lift his damp body on the trolley, he is even lighter than he looks, and I pull him to our living room. Nona nods at me and hands me over the shovel that she got from the closet. I know what she wants, “I’ll be quick.” I say, turning around and leaving for the graveyard. I find a nice spot and start digging for… Jack… nona said not to give them names, but I must. I think of who Jack could have been before he came to us, his life story, him. As the shovel in my hands hits the dry, crumbly ground I look around at others nona and I have buried. People talk about nona, they call our backyard “The cemetery of the nameless”… they are not wrong. For decades nona has had people wash up on her dock, lifeless, they were unidentifiable and no one, even the local authorities didn’t want anything to do with them, so nona took it upon herself to keep them safe, she buried so many bodies until she couldn’t anymore, now it is my job. I step in the hole I dug, now knee-deep, and swing the shovel once again dozing off thinking about how Jake came to be.

Jack

I feel my clothes get more wet as the raindrops slip from my hair on my neck and down my back. Cold, it’s so very, very cold. I try looking for shelter but to no avail, I am dirty from the ground I slept on and it is visible I have no acces to anything that I might use to clean myself up. I look at the people I can see through the windows on the street, happy, warm, dry. I try looking for alleyways where the roofs cover some areas, I can’t stand next to or in front of any shop for they do not approve of beggars. I see a small group of people lying next to some dumpsters, they wear the same ripped and dirty clothes as me and the stench I smell even through the thick rain is not only coming from the dumpsters. I slowly approach them and with a pleading tone in my voice I say “Excuse me, I was just wondering if you would have place for one more person under that roof, only until the rain stops…” I trail off. Their gazes piercing through me, one of them starts laughing, the others join shortly after, they throw the empty bottles from the garbage at me while shouting a thousand curses. Completely soaked by rain I turn away, my head hung low I continue walking straight. I am only 21 years old but I look nothing like my peers, I have no home, no money, no family… nothing. I tried getting a job but all I succeeded in was rich men kicking dirt in my direction or even sometimes kicking me. I have no worth, and I never will. I was young when my mother died and I didn’t cry, for I did not understand what it meant… maybe this is my punishment, for leaving her like my father did. No one cares for me just like I cared for no one… but I was a child. I lift my head up noticing I was in a forest, in front of me a cliff with a beautiful view on a river below. Danube I believe is what the locals call it, it is beautiful. I slowly approach the edge and feel a warm wind wrap my skin just like a hug, my clothes rippling slowly drying, I breathe in the beautiful smell of the forest after rain and wonder if I would smell that nicely if submerged into water completely. Oddly enough I feel calm. I glance at the river below and without a thought take a step forward.