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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2014820-Silver-Bell
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Experience · #2014820
“Kling-kling,” goes the silver bell rusted over time.

“Kling-kling,” goes the silver bell rusted over time. A man of sixty, with his cap on, pushed his small box containing ice-drops for sale. It was a sunny weather, and he hoped that people will be buying from him – especially the children.

“Kling-kling,” goes the silver bell rusted over time. The man was feeling exhausted, but he had to keep pushing his small container, and make more kling-klings. But his arms were already puny. He was old.

“Kling-kling,” goes the silver bell rusted over time. The man was thirsty, but he couldn’t drink. He had no money yet to buy a bottle of water. He saw some bystanders quenching their thirst with cold soda, but none of them seemed to notice to old man – seriously staring at them.

“Kling-kling,” goes the silver bell rusted over time. The old man passed by three children playing on the street. He smiled at them, exposing his yellowish teeth. The children screamed and off they ran to their moms. The gossip-machine moms stared at the old man with much ridicule and disgust… the old man understood; he continued pushing his box with much pain in his heart.

“Kling-kling,” goes the silver bell rusted over time. A girl gestured him an interest of buying. He smiled and slowly got near her. “Chocolate, cheese, vanilla… which one would delight your taste-buds, young girl?” asked the old man. “Chocolate, please,” replied the girl. That made him his first sale of the day. She returned home, happily licking her chocolate-drop.

“Kling-kling,” goes the silver bell rusted over time. The sixty-year-old man was feeling dizzy. He has been taxing his aged body since morning. He felt as though he’s melting like his ice-drops. The sun was cruel to him… he was perspiring… he dropped on his knees, and all he could see was a bright light beaming before him, offending his hazel-brown eyes. This might be it, the old man thought to himself.

“Kling-kling,” goes the silver bell rusted over time. The old man rang his bell as loud as his puny arms could do. His vision darkened… he was losing air… he was suffocating… heatstroke! This is the last kling-kling I’ll do, he thought to himself.

“Kling-kling,” goes the silver bell rusted over time. The man smiled victoriously as the sound slowly faded. The sound of the silver bell was gone, and so was he – forever.

© Copyright 2014 V.D. Tamien (vdtamien at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2014820-Silver-Bell