“Are you cold?” Hank asked Ede. They had just stepped outside of the airport and were going to the pick-up location for a taxicab to take them to his mother’s house in Hawthorne. “Not really,” she replied as her eyes darted everywhere with excitement. They were finally in Portland after a very long flight. Being… Read More In Portland
I used to be a prostitute. And then, one night, I met a Catholic priest who changed my life forever. Father Ramirez didn’t preach at me like most religious people do. Instead, he asked me about myself and what got me into prostitution. He sat and listened as I shared my story and not once… Read More Shaniqua’s Story
“Hello, Karine.” “Hello, Jason Cheung.” “We’re still on for this evening, right?” “Of course,” she said. “I’ve been looking forward to it.” He smiled. “Me too. What’s your apartment number?” She told him. “I’ll be down in five minutes.” “I’ll be ready and waiting.” He hung up. After he checked himself out in the mirror,… Read More Dinner With Karine
We remain trapped when we allow fear to block our means of escape. She sat in bed in the Inky blackness and the faintest glow of light from around the door warned her that she wasn’t alone anymore. He was there. She could hear him moving about now. What was she going to do when… Read More Trapped
“Zoey, what are you doing here?” “I needed to see you. Please, may I come in?” He sighed heavily. “All right, come in.” She went inside and after he shut the door, he faced her. He leaned against it, arms folded, looking down at her. She looked so young and reminded him of a waif.… Read More Zoey’s Story
People who are homeless are not social inadequates. They are people without homes – Sheila McKechnie My name is Amos. I became homeless because an untreated bipolar disorder. I lost my job and ended up on the streets. I was afraid to go to a shelter because I heard so many stories of how dangerous… Read More Amos’ Story
I’m sitting in the café which I frequently go to because I love their Latte when I can feel that someone is staring at me. I turn my head and my eyes meet those of a very beautiful African American woman. As we lock eyes for what seemed like eternity, I debate whether or not… Read More Claude’s Story
My name is Sophia. I have been living with a secret since I was eight. It’s a shameful thing and every-time I think about it, I feel sick and I wish I could curl up and just die. No one at school knows but I keep wondering if they could tell just by looking at… Read More Sophia’s Secret
I was turning tricks since I was 15. My father was in prison for manslaughter and my mother was a coke head. I didn’t have any siblings. I was the only child. I thought of dropping out of school and finding a job so I could save up enough money to blow this city but… Read More Tamika’s Story
I’m a Literature Evangelist and youth leader in my church. I’m on fire for the Lord so I leave tracts on buses, trains, taxis, the waiting rooms of doctors, dentists, on sidewalks, streets–yes, I drop them as I walk. Sometimes I would stand on the sidewalk and hand them out to people as they walk… Read More Janco’s Story (Part One)
Notes to Women 